Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
His hand brushes mine.
I almost jump at the contact. When we’re out and about, we’re careful to avoid touching in case Kit notices.
“Finding the egg a better home, you mean?”
“Well, yeah.” I lean back, staring up at him. “And us.”
A line forms between his brows. “What do you mean?”
“Every time you ask what I’m thinking, I can practically hear you thinking. And I don’t want you to feel like you need to…” I chew my lip, trying to figure out how to say this nicely in a way that will let him feel safe and secure.
Holden doesn’t do things lightly.
Not even this weird, unexpected thing we’ve started by accident, but I don’t want him getting too caught up in putting a label on us. Making it official or deciding it was always a mistake after all.
There are a million reasons why we don’t make sense.
But this feels so right, I can’t believe it’s not meant to be.
It also feels fragile, this quiet peace we’ve carved for ourselves. Like if we make one wrong move, it’ll all come crashing down on our heads.
The truth is, I’m scared of that happening.
I’m afraid to let go when we’ve just barely begun to hold on.
“No need to decide anything right now,” I whisper, and he’s still watching me intently, that desert night back in his eyes. I can’t believe I get to call him mine, even if it’s just for now. “What we are. What this is. Where we go from here.”
“What brought this on?” His eyes search mine.
“Anxiety, of course. The story of my life. I don’t want anything to change. Not yet,” I whisper.
He reaches up and drags his thumb down my bottom lip. The rush of heat through my body feels incendiary.
“What makes you think it’ll change so fast?”
“Because. You’re the kind of guy who likes to make things happen. You don’t dillydally once a decision gets made.”
“And that’s bad?” He drops his hand. I already miss his touch.
Ridiculous.
“It’s okay to just chill in the moment, you know.” I force a smile. “Just breathe, big guy. Enjoy life without overthinking.”
“I don’t overthink.” Amusement flashes behind his pointed frown. It’s all in the twitch of his lips, the warmth in his eyes.
“Daaad!” Kit calls, and we both look over. “Dad, Cleo, come look!” She’s pointing at a rocky tower offshore where a group of puffins are nesting.
Holden doesn’t answer, but he does offer a hand to me when Kit turns back toward the birds.
A silent acceptance that stops my heart.
God, I should follow my own advice.
Live, chill, breathe.
Exist and enjoy.
Just hope nothing changes before I’ve figured out how to stop myself from falling all the way down to rock bottom.
That night, Dad calls. Long overdue.
I’m sitting in bed in the guest room—the one across the hall I haven’t spent more than a few hours in since I arrived, mostly for appearances.
“Hey, Dad,” I say, steeling myself.
“I’m surprised you’re not home yet,” he growls. “I heard Uncle Leo’s old place got broken into. Elvira said Ethan was scoping it out. Why didn’t you tell me?”
The man doesn’t miss a beat.
I roll my eyes.
“News travels fast. No need to worry, it wasn’t a huge deal. The bad guys were pretty skittish and they ran off the second Holden went after them. Props to Gramps for leaving me a bodyguard,” I lie. “Let me guess, Elvira hyped it up? You know how she is.”
“I know someone’s telling me what’s going on with this bullshit, Cleo.” His voice cuts deep.
I feel a little bad.
Sometimes, it’s easy to forget that he actually cares in his own messy, bitter way.
He’s an ass, but he’s always cared about me.
It’s just a million other things that get in the way.
“Dad, I’m sorry for not telling you. I didn’t want you freaking out over nothing.” My shoulders slouch.
“Dealing with prowlers in that old house is hardly nothing. Are you okay?”
“Last I checked.”
“What happened? Why was there a break-in? I thought Evie said the place was nearly cleaned out?” His voice sharpens. “What did he leave you, girl? I’m not letting another wild goose chase fuck with my daughter.”
I huff loudly and lean back, staring at the ceiling.
I never bothered to put the light on, and the streetlights pour in through the blinds, sending ribbons across the room in pale white. The scent of sea salt seeps in through the cracked window.
Melancholy vibes, but it’s the concern in his voice that breaks me.
“Don’t worry about it. I really am fine, Dad,” I whisper, fighting the guilt that gnaws at me. It’s just like I’m a kid again, and some small part of me hopes he’ll be my white knight if he’ll just sober up.
He never does.
Even when he tried to rescue me from my own mistakes, he never saw anything for what it was. He’d rip into teachers and principals if I acted out, without ever encouraging me to take responsibility.