Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
So instead, I nodded toward the stove. “The chicken’s done.”
His eyes lifted to mine, and something in them softened with gratitude before the wall slid back into place.
“Let’s eat, then.”
He moved through the rest of dinner on autopilot. He plated the rice first, then the chicken, spooning the creamy sauce over the top with practiced care, making sure mine looked perfect before he set it in front of me.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
“Of course.”
He sat beside me at the island with his own bowl, but after a few bites, it became clear he wasn’t really eating. He pushed the food around more than he touched it, gaze fixed somewhere beyond the kitchen, beyond me, beyond this house entirely.
And I sat there in his shirt, eating the dinner he’d made for me, watching that softer version of him retreat in real time.
There was nothing dramatic about it, no obvious shift I could point to and say there, that was the moment.
It was just the quiet, devastating understanding that whatever had existed between us all day had been interrupted by the truth of his life.
And the truth was this:
Braden never really got to put anything down.
He couldn’t ever fully abandon his fear, his responsibility — not even for a few stolen hours in bed with me.
By the time I set my fork down, the cozy warmth of the kitchen had gone cold around the edges, along with the man sitting next to me.
And no matter how badly I wanted to, I had no idea how to bring him back.
Emily
“Okay, I was really hoping for something kinky, but this smells a little like a school gym,” I said, smirking from under the blindfold Braden had fastened around my eyes.
He chuckled, the sound a low, delicious rumble in my ear as he guided me by the shoulders, steering me slowly through some sort of building. “I promise to fulfill your kinky wishes by the end of the day.”
“Can it involve this blindfold?”
“Whatever you want, birthday girl.”
“Wow. The whole blowing out the candles thing really does work.”
I felt that low chuckle in my ear again, just as Braden carefully helped me step through a door.
And for a second, I let myself relax into it — into him and the ease that felt so familiar, even if a small part of me still noticed the way he’d been just a little quieter lately. A little harder to read.
But he was here. With me. Laughing again.
So maybe whatever had shifted between us had settled.
Or maybe I just didn’t want to look too closely at it yet.
I couldn’t see a thing, but the moment we were inside, the hum from the part of the building we’d been walking through before quieted. I heard Braden flick on a light, felt the cool air of the room wash over my skin.
It was my birthday.
I was thirty years old.
In some ways, it was turning out to be the best birthday I’d had in a long, long time.
First, I’d had my cast off this week, which meant I was free to move my wrist — carefully, at least. It was delightful, wiggling it and stretching it after being restrained for six weeks — even if it did feel a little weak and stiff. It was one step closer to recovery, and it was the best birthday gift I could have received.
Or so I thought.
Darcy and Marcus had surprised me with a homemade brunch, knowing how much I love French toast and mimosas. They’d gone in on a gorgeous Louis Vuitton bag for my gift, one so stunning it had my jaw on the floor when I unwrapped it. I’d never been given something so luxurious, and the fact that I knew they’d had to save up for it made my heart burst.
I felt so loved.
My parents called me to wish me the best day not too long after Darcy and Marcus had left, while I was getting myself ready for my secret date with Braden. He hadn’t told me what we were doing, just how to dress and when to be ready.
It had been a lovely day already — friends, family, and surprises. I was on the road to recovery with my wrist, too, and everything was falling into place.
But I couldn’t shake the unsteadiness in my soul, like I was standing on the precipice of something new and scary and I was about to fall head first into it because I didn’t know how to take a gentle step.
Thirty was still young. I knew that.
But it felt old in an expectant way, in an urgent way, like I needed to have things more figured out than I did presently.
That unsettled feeling had been in my stomach when I went to sleep last night, and it was still hanging on as Braden grabbed me by the hands, carefully holding my injured one as he guided me forward a few more steps.