Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 61591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
I took a breath and added, as I studied my fidgeting hands, “I don’t know why I put that last part in the past tense. I’m still broken, even after countless hours of therapy and years spent trying to heal. Not like I was, but I have a long way to go.”
Ever closed the distance between us and ran his knuckles along my cheekbone. The gesture confused me at first, but my confusion turned into embarrassment when I realized he was brushing away a tear. “There’s nothing wrong with being a work in progress,” he said gently.
I started to reply, but we were interrupted by loud, cheerful voices coming from the front of the building. A moment later, two of the shelter’s residents joined us. They wanted to help when they saw the decorations, and as the boys began rummaging through the boxes, I told them, “Sawyer MacNeil dropped off some fancy coffee. I’ll go make us some.”
After I brought the box of coffee to the kitchen, I exhaled slowly and braced my hands on the counter. I hadn’t planned to spill my guts, and I could only imagine what Ever thought about all of that.
He needed to hear it though, because I was pretty sure he’d been about to kiss me before Sawyer walked in. I was someone who should come with a warning label—Ever had to see that now. All the reasons to stay away from me had just been spelled out for him in big, bold letters.
9
Ever
I wanted to go after Tracy when he left the rec room. He’d told me some pretty personal stuff—maybe more than he’d intended—and it had obviously stirred up some emotions for him. But he probably wanted a few minutes to himself after all of that, so I stayed with the boys, and the three of us finished putting up the decorations.
Half an hour later, the place looked great, and the residents settled in to play a game on the X-Box. When I went to wash up, I found Tracy scrubbing the ground floor bathroom. That wasn’t in his job description, but I’d noticed he started cleaning whenever he had something on his mind.
“The rec room and dining room are both totally decorated,” I said. “We used everything, and then we put away the empty boxes. What else can I do to help?”
“I can’t think of anything.”
“Then I guess I’ll head home and hang out with Phil. Want me to pick you up when you get off work? It’s supposed to rain this evening.”
“No, thanks.”
“Okay. Text me if you change your mind.” He nodded, but he didn’t look up from the perfectly clean sink he was scouring.
I wanted to stop him—to grab his hands, hold them in mine, and beg him to talk to me, instead of trying to lose himself in busy-work. He probably would have hated that, though. So instead, I gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and told him I’d see him soon before leaving the bathroom.
I could still hear him scrubbing that damn sink when I reached the exit at the other end of the building.
Phil was in his usual spot when I got home—on Tracy’s neatly made bed. He looked pissed, but resting bitch face was his default expression.
“Hey, buddy.” I sat beside him and ran my hand down his back. My cat ignored me and started licking his paw while I looked around. The room was blank as ever, with the exception of the shark-shaped cat bed I’d left on the dresser. Surprisingly, Tracy hadn’t chucked it into the hallway yet, even though he probably found it annoying.
I glanced at Phil and murmured, “You like him, don’t you? That must be why you’re always in here. I like him, too.”
Actually, I’d nearly kissed him today. Would that have been a mistake?
I wanted to talk to someone about it, so I thought about calling Roger. But since he was friends with both Tracy and me, he couldn’t exactly offer an unbiased opinion.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and posted a quick selfie with Phil before scrolling through my contacts. There were plenty of names, but nearly all of them had something to do with my job. It had seemed like I’d had a busy social life when I lived in LA. There were parties, dinners, and other events every weekend, but they were hosted by clients or colleagues and nothing more than a chance to network.
I kicked off my sneakers and sighed as I stretched out beside Phil. I had too much time to think. That was the problem. The lack of friends hadn’t bothered me when I was working seven days a week and busting my ass to make my business a success.
My head was on Tracy’s pillow, and his clean scent caught my attention. It was familiar and comforting.