Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 63608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Twelve
Kelly
My Body remembers him even when my mind can’t
By the time we pull up to the cabin again, my nerves are stretched so tight I feel like they might snap.
The ride back wasn’t silent but it wasn’t not silent either. It was full of things unsaid between us. Thick, heavy things that sit between us like heat on a winter morning to defrost a windshield.
Every time Ledger shifted, I felt it. Every time he glanced at me, I felt that too. And every time I closed my eyes, flashes of something half-remembered flickered through my mind.
The gently way he always grips my wrist.
His hand on my waist.
His lips brushing my temple.
Laughter echoing through a kitchen.
Warmth. Heat. Want.
His body heavy over mine in the best ways.
But when I try to hold onto the images, they disappear like fog. Now, inside the cabin again, the walls feel too close. The air too thick. The quiet too loud.
Ledger walks ahead of me, scanning the room automatically, like he expects danger hidden inside the walls. Stunt is somewhere outside. Dodge is too. I know I’m safe.
I know the Kings of Anarchy brothers are all looking out for me.
But my heart hasn’t gotten the message. There is nothing about my emotions that feel safe.
I sit on the couch slowly and try to focus on breathing.
In.
Out.
Just like the therapists taught me after that panic episode in middle school. Why can I remember that but not what I shared with him?
And right now? The air won’t go in deep enough.
Ledger turns back to me, and his whole expression changes instantly.
“Kelly,” he says, voice dropping into something low and steady. “What’s going on?”
I can’t answer. I can barely breathe.
My fingers twist into the hem of my sweater, gripping it tight like it might anchor me. My vision starts to narrow at the edges, colors dimming, the world shrinking to a small, suffocating tunnel.
Ledger moves so fast I don’t even see him cross the room. He crouches in front of me, big hands braced on his thighs, eyes locked on mine. “Hey. Sunshine. Look at me.”
I try, but everything is shaking. My breath comes in sharp, uneven pulls.
He doesn’t hesitate, not even a second. He reaches out and covers my hands under the hem of my sweater with his without touching my skin directly, just letting the warmth of his palms ground me through the fabric.
“You’re safe,” he murmurs. “Right here. Nothing’s gonna touch you.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “I can’t. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“You had a hell of a day,” he explains. “And your brain’s still tryin’ to catch up. Slow it down, Kelly. I’ve got you.”
I take a shaky inhale.
“That’s it,” he encourages. “Again. With me.”
He breathes with me slow, deep, steady. Like he’s syncing himself to pull my body back into rhythm. I cling to the sound of his voice. The feel of his presence. The warmth radiating from him.
Another breath. Another shaky inhale.
Slowly, painfully slowly, my vision expands again. The world stops tilting. The suffocating pressure in my chest loosens by degrees.
I open my eyes.
He’s still there.
Close.
Too close.
Not close enough.
Precisely where I need him. Finally, close enough.
His brows are drawn, worry etched into every line of his face.
“That’s it,” he continues to coax. “You’re okay.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, embarrassment washing over me. “I didn’t mean to.”
He shakes his head hard. “No. Don’t do that. Don’t apologize for this.”
“But—”
“Kelly.” His voice sharpens just enough to make me freeze. “You don’t have to hide your panic from me. You never did.”
I swallow hard. “I used to have them before. I remember that. But never this bad.”
His eyes soften. “You had them with me too.”
A tiny gasp leaves my lips.
He nods. “You’d get overwhelmed. Try to hold it in. I’d tell you the same thing then that I’m tellin’ you now, you don’t have to face anything alone.”
Something inside my chest breaks open.
“Why don’t I remember?” I whisper.
He reaches up slowly giving me time to pull away, but I don’t. He brushes a tear off my cheek with the pad of his thumb. His touch is gentle. Cherishing. Like he’s touching something sacred.
“You will,” he reminds softly. “But until then? You trust your instincts.”
I lean into his hand before I even realize I’m doing it. The eye contact between us snaps tight, a wire pulled so taut I’m afraid it might break. His breathing deepens. His gaze drops to my mouth. And just like that, heat floods my stomach.
He feels it too.
I can tell.
For a long, breathless moment, neither of us moves.
His thumb grazes my cheek again, slow and tender, and I swear the room falls away.
“Ledger,” I whisper.
His jaw tics. “Yeah?”
“I—” I don’t know what I’m about to say.
I want you.
I trust you. I’m terrified.
Why do I feel like I already loved you once?
Before I can figure it out, the moment is shattered by a sharp knock on the door.