Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
I put my monitor to sleep and get to my feet, my back creaking. “I’m done for the night. I’ll go up with you.”
She smiles, and I tell myself not to notice the way her cheeks dimple. As she climbs the stairs, I ignore the lovely curve of her backside and the sweet fragrance that trails after her.
She reaches the stove first and pours cider into the mug she already has waiting for me. Her cup is nearby, steaming. “Anything new down there?” she asks.
“Nothing noteworthy. How about you?”
“Finished two more rows on the blanket.” Before giving me the cider, she adds a slice of orange that had been waiting on a plate, and drizzles the top with caramel sauce. Her additions elevate the simple drink in the same way her presence lights up this dark house.
She steps close to hand me the drink. “I was getting bored.”
“Sorry about that.” I wrap my hands around the mug, but she doesn’t let go.
“It’s not your fault.” Her fingers slip away, but she stays close.
Too close.
My body moves with a mind of its own, leaning toward her, breathing in her warmth.
Her eyes go to my mouth, and my breath catches.
My world narrows to the soft pink line of her lips. Her wide, trusting eyes. The inch of cleavage visible at the top of her V-neck sweater.
I could kiss her.
It would be the easiest thing to do right now. The most natural thing in the world.
And it would break me.
With the mug in my right hand, my left hand twists my ring automatically. The motion serves as a warning, and I pull back abruptly.
Kira blinks. “Andrew?”
I back away. “We should get some sleep.”
Her expression tightens. She’s hurt and confused. “Did I—”
“No,” I cut in quickly. No way I’ll let her feel bad about this. “No. You didn’t do anything.”
She holds my gaze. “Then what?”
I can’t tell her the truth. That something stirred in me that I haven’t felt since I buried my wife. That her strength makes me want things I swore off long ago. That I want to make up for all the pain she’s been through.
“You’re pregnant.” I hate myself for using that as a shield. “And you’ve been through hell. I’m not going to take advantage of that.”
Kira steps closer. “What about how I feel?”
I set down the mug. “I think you’re tired.”
Her body goes stiff, and she lets out a breath. “Please don’t dismiss me like that.”
I have to close my eyes for half a second, because I heard Sarah’s voice in that line. Please don’t dismiss me. She only had to say it once, early on in our relationship, back when I thought protection meant control.
I meet Kira’s eyes and give her the respect she deserves. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”
“Then tell me.” Her voice is as soft as one of her sweaters. Her hand is, too, when she briefly slides it over mine.
My ring is heavy on my finger. The past is heavy in my chest. “I can’t.”
Kira’s lips press into a line. “Because of Sarah.”
I flinch. “Yes. Because of Sarah.”
“I’m not asking you to forget her,” she says quietly. “I would never do that.”
“I know,” I say, “but I feel like I’m betraying her.”
Kira steps closer again but stops an arm’s length away, as if I’d drawn an invisible line between us. “She passed away, Andrew.” Her words are exceedingly gentle, without a trace of cruelty or disrespect. Still, she manages to deliver a hard truth. “Sarah’s gone, but you’re still alive.”
We stand there for several seconds, searching each other’s eyes.
“I don’t know how to do that,” I whisper.
“Neither do I.” Her eyes are shining.
My thumb finds the ring again, twisting it until it aches.
Eventually, Kira’s chin lifts. “Goodnight, Andrew.”
“Goodnight,” I manage.
Mug of cider long forgotten, she turns and heads to the stairs without looking back.
I don’t move until long after she disappears. Then I pour a shot of bourbon into the drink that’s no longer hot, and sink into one of the chairs at the counter.
Guilt weighs heavy.
Sarah’s been gone five years. In that time, I rebuilt a life, relying on routines to keep me from having to think too hard about anything except work.
But when I almost kissed Kira, I felt Sarah standing in the room with us.
I grip the edge of the table until my knuckles go white.
This is why you don’t want things. This is why you stay in control.
Because the second I let myself care, the universe proves it can take it all away.
I take a long gulp of the cider, as the terrifying truth becomes clear.
I already care.
Not because Kira’s under our protection, and not because I made a promise to keep her alive.
It’s because there’s steel in her softness. There’s fire inside her she carries with grace.
She makes me remember the man I used to be. She reminds me of what life had been like before grief hollowed me out.