Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
One look at your heart and I see beauty
Beauty
I know
You need to feel safe about your future
You need to feel loved and like you matter
You matter
Life isn’t perfect, it’s full of surprises
And not many guarantees
All I can tell you is that I can promise
You’ll always matter to me
Baby
Look in my eyes and see it’s real
All that I feel and how I need you
And miss you
I miss you
Her eyes are filled with tears. As the final notes fade, one of them spills over; then she whirls around and races down the hall. The bathroom door slams, but even from a distance I can hear her sobs.
Fuck.
I set the guitar aside and go to the bathroom, but she’s locked the door. I wish she’d let me in. I’ve made her cry, and the least I can do is hold her. But when I tap on the door, she doesn’t respond.
“Emmy,” I say softly.
Her voice sounds broken. “I can’t talk to you right now.”
“I can’t leave you like this.”
“I’ll be all right.”
“Emmy,” I say again, a little less patiently this time. She can’t seriously expect me to go home while she’s sitting in the bathroom crying. For any reason at all, let alone because I sang her a song.
“Please, Griffin.”
“I’m not leaving until you come out.”
Silence, then I hear the water running in the sink. A minute later, Ember opens the door, her face pale but composed. “I have to catch my bus,” she says, her voice still rough.
I follow her as she marches back to the front to get her things. “Emmy—”
“I’ll talk to you later,” she says quietly, and I know that’s all the response I’m going to get. I’ll take it, for now, because I don’t really have a choice, but I’m not leaving things like this. We need to have a real conversation, and soon.
She’s at the door, waiting for me so she can set the alarm. I put my guitar in its case and go outside, waiting as she locks up. When she turns to me, her eyes are bright again, more tears on the way, and it’s all I can do not to haul her into my arms and keep her there.
“See you tomorrow,” she says.
I give her that, because she needs it. “Okay. Good night, Emmy.”
“Good night,” she whispers, and then she turns and hurries toward her bus.
Fuck.
I hope I haven’t made things worse.
EMBER
My heart has felt like it’s scraped raw ever since Griffin sang me that song. I’m so used to him being a prankster, treating life like a joke, that the force of his unfiltered emotions shattered my defenses.
I didn’t know he had it in him to sing something like that, let alone write it. I’m beginning to understand that there’s more to him, and to Frank and Zeb, than I’ve let myself see before now.
But I’m still afraid to trust in it, that there’s more to this than just a lot of chemistry.
Setting all that aside as best I can, I smile at my bosses when they come into the shop at closing time. The customer complaint is still weighing on my mind, but that’s not why they’re here today. I’m nervous for an entirely different reason.
We go back to the office, and I set my laptop down, turning it so they can see the screen clearly. “Thanks for coming out this way,” I begin.
“No problem,” Gage assures me.
I gesture at the screen. “This is a project I did for one of my senior seminars this semester. It’s an expansion plan for Beasts Ink.”
“Really.” Though the word sounds noncommittal, I know Kai well enough to recognize from his expression and his tone of voice that he’s intrigued. “Lay it on us.”
So I do, clicking through my presentation, explaining as I go. There’s a timeline for opening additional locations, complete with research into the most likely neighborhoods and projected overhead and profits.
It takes me a solid twenty minutes to go through it all. When I’m done, I blank the screen and sit back, biting my lip while I wait for their reaction.
They look at each other, then at me. “This is really well done, Ember,” Gage says. “Your research is thorough and your projections are realistic, but still ambitious.”
I flush with pleasure. “Thank you.”
“You should know,” Kai says, “that we looked further into that complaint that was filed against you.”
My breath sticks in my throat. “Yes?” I manage.
“When we got more detail, the client’s story didn’t add up. Some of their claims were flat-out untrue, and the rest were suspect. So none of that is going to reflect on you or your performance.”
I let my breath out in a whoosh. “Thank you,” I say again. “That’s really good news.”
I hope my face doesn’t show what I’m thinking … which is, what would they say if they knew the whole truth?