Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
She hugged the notebook to her chest and shook her head.
But I wasn’t about to be deterred. I was serious about not pushing hard, but that didn’t mean I was going to back off, either. “I’m not letting you hide this. Not anymore.”
Her expression crumpled, not in a tearful way, but like panic had started crawling under her skin. Taking a step back, she shook her head. “You don’t understand. If I say yes—if I try—and it goes to hell…” A sharp exhale burst from her lips. “I don’t want to be a charity case. Some project you’re trying to fix. But what would be even worse is you looking at me like I failed you. I couldn’t handle that.”
Well, fuck.
She meant it. That fear wasn’t a throwaway line. It was real. And heavy. Sitting right there on her shoulders and dragging her down. Crushing her dreams before they ever had a chance to take flight.
I didn’t know how yet, but I wasn’t going to let it happen. I just had to find a way that wouldn’t send her running or give her an excuse to rebuild the walls I’d been slowly knocking down.
“Okay.” I softened my stance, putting my hands in my pockets and nodding. “As I said, I’m not going to push.” Then I grinned. “Maybe nudge.”
A trembling smile dusted over her mouth, and she nodded. Although she didn’t manage to hide the disappointment that flashed in her eyes. Which made me all the more determined to help her reach for her dreams.
“But I want you to hear me. You’re not a project. You’re not broken. You don’t need fixing. But I’m not going to stop reminding you how amazing you are.” I gave in to temptation and brushed some of her flyaway hair back behind her ear. “And when you’re ready to try…I’ll be here. No strings. No expectations. Just me, cheering you on. Every fucking step of the way.”
Her lashes were wet as she blinked fast and nodded, clutching the notebook to her chest.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Always,” I replied.
I wanted to pull her into my arms, bury my face in her neck, and promise her the whole fucking world, but I settled for brushing a soft kiss over her sweet lips. Unlike the other times, I took a step closer and deepened it, just a little. Testing the waters. When she didn’t pull away, I nibbled her mouth before pressing my forehead lightly against hers for a beat.
“Always,” I repeated quietly.
And I meant it. Because this wasn’t about me. It was about her—this girl with fire in her soul and sugar in her hands, scared to believe she was anything special.
But she was.
The whole fucking package.
And I would keep showing her until she knew it, too.
6
RYLIN
Iwoke up with worry clenching my stomach, the same way it had every morning since Micah saw my secret recipe notebook.
I’d spent three years guarding that little spiral journal like it was a piece of my soul. Which, when I really thought about it, it kind of was.
Then, with one slip of my fingers, Micah had seen the messy notes and half-baked ideas I’d never shown another living person. And he hadn’t laughed as I expected.
He’d looked at those pages like they meant something. And when he told me I had talent, it had inspired a confidence inside that I’d never felt before. Which scared the heck out of me because there was nothing I could do about my dreams right now. I needed to keep my focus on earning enough money to get Reese away from our mom.
I’d gone back to my apartment feeling raw and exposed, swearing I needed distance before I did something ridiculous. Like throw myself at Micah. Especially after the kisses he kept stealing from me.
But the universe had apparently decided to mess with me because he had popped in for a minute the following morning, just long enough to talk to the manager in the back and say a quick hello on his way out. Yesterday, he only came through to grab food before heading to Long Island to watch game tapes. I’d barely caught a glimpse of him.
I should’ve been grateful that he made it so easy to avoid him, but I didn’t feel relieved. Instead, I kept catching myself glancing at the door as if expecting him to appear. Wanting him to. And that was the problem.
Without my noticing, seeing Micah had somehow become part of my routine, and the space had left me feeling off-balance.
By the time I pushed through the front door of The Tight Line for my afternoon shift today, I’d given myself at least three pep talks about staying focused on work. But the second I stepped inside, something felt off.
Two of my coworkers hovered near the front chalkboard, whispering to each other. Maya’s eyes were wide, and Derek’s lips were pursed together.