Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84901 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84901 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Tears gathered while I pictured the fruit of his time and dedication—the gallery in New York. What I saw? A beautiful, finished product. What he’d created had taken effort, patience, and love. Hard work. Then I remembered how he had anchored me through the storms my mind still conjured. My nightmares, my sleep paralysis … no one should endure them. But he stayed. And somehow, the fear bowed to him.
“You’re like home to me, Lach,” I confessed, a feathery whisper in the cool May air.
Lachlan’s smile was gentle, but the ache in his eyes gutted me. He cupped my cheek. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be.”
“I’m sorry …” I choked. “For not offering the same to you.” My gander rose, eyes stinging, heart cracked open and raw. “I wanted to be.”
“You still can.”
As we leaned against his car in the players’ parking lot, I told him about how his sisters-in-law were our greatest champions and about Dr. Vashone. He smiled, offering to attend a session with me. After a while, silence dropped between us again. A silence where everything we’d ever buried between us was now laid bare. Then he said the words I hadn’t expected to crave.
“Come home with me tonight.”
Not rushed. Not a demand.
Just … a promise wrapped in invitation.
I nodded, slow and sure, heart pounding against my chest.
“I’ll go slow,” he promised, brushing a kiss to my forehead so reverently it made my eyes burn with unshed tears. “Only what you’re ready for.”
Tears spilled down my cheeks before I could stop them. Not from sadness. But from finally feeling secure when it came to … to him holding me through the darkness.
My voice came out broken, but sure. “I trust you.”
And I did.
With every bruised, beautiful part of me, I trusted Lachlan MacKenzie.
The ride back to Lachlan’s place was quiet.
Not the tense kind.
The full kind. His hand rested on my thigh, thumb tracing slow circles while he drove. No words. Just that comforting presence that anchored me more than any breathing technique ever had. The city blurred by outside the window.
When we entered his apartment, my attention trained on him. At the man who’d waited for me to stop running. At the man who looked at me like I was worth it—even when I didn’t believe I was.
I toed off a shoe, then the other. The soft lamplight cast shadows across the hardwood floor, and everything felt quieter than usual. Or was I less guarded?
Lachlan slipped his hand into mine and led me to the couch.
“You hungry?” he asked, voice gentle.
I shook my head. “Just tired. This girl had a long day.”
Though he didn’t push, I felt the urge to elaborate. Lachlan took off his hoodie and handed it to me without a word. I smiled and pulled it over my head. It swallowed me whole. Warmth clung to my skin, along with his scent, and I exhaled.
“I could get you a blanket—”
“Boy, stop.”
“Girls run cold.” He shrugged. “That’s why I’m a puir millionaire.”
“A what?” I grinned, reaching for him, fingers brushing over his massive forearms to his biceps, then slipped around the back of his neck.
“Puir. Poor. If you counted how many hoodies I own, you’d think I was broke.”
“Oh? I steal all your hoodies.”
“Aye.” His low-throaty laugh burned me up with desire.
Things hadn’t been this dangerous for my heart since Greece. I embraced that danger rather than pushing it away. I wrapped my arms around his waist and attempted to squeeze solid muscle. Must’ve looked like I was hugging an oak tree.
We curled onto the couch, the TV off, no music. Just his arms wrapped around me from behind, my back pressed against his chest, and his breath warm against the crook of my neck. His fingers found mine, clasped them. Every so often, he’d press the softest kiss to the top of my shoulder. Like he couldn’t help it. Like he needed the contact to remind him I was really here.
And for the first time since he last touched me, I didn’t flinch from physical contact.
I wasn’t afraid of the memories.
Or the dark.
Lachlan’s arms were my shield. The rise and fall of his massive chess, a lullaby. The ache I carried around like armor loosened. When his heartbeat steadied against my spine, and his breath slowed into sleep, I whispered, “I won’t run anymore, Lach. I promise.”
Come morning, when light poured in, we’d be here. Still holding each other down. Because I’d fight for Lachlan with all of me. And despite the lies that told me baseball came first, I knew he’d fight for me too.
31
LORENZO
She slept, tangled in the sheets, one leg half off the mattress like she was fighting zombies in her dreams. I hooded my eyes … suddenly realizing that because of her race, Rain’s light skin held a similar glow to Natasha’s. Natasha. Had to see more of her after we’d planted that stupid tree earlier.