Read Online Losing You (Stars On Fire Book 4) by Ryleigh Andrews - Free Book Online
Authors: Ryleigh Andrews
Tags: Losing You
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are,” he agreed, pulling her into him and wrapping those arms around her. Resting the side of her head on his shoulder, Lizzie spoke quietly. “This is the best hump day ever.”
Tom
September 2, 2006
Tom stood on his covered porch, protected from the downpour, as a black Jeep pulled into his driveway. Black Jeep . . .
His eyes widened as the window rolled down a little and Lizzie shouted at him. “Tom! I don’t have my umbrella!”
“One second,” he called out and headed inside. Was it Lizzie at Marc’s house the morning of the Cubs game? He didn’t know how to bring that up to get solid proof. Maybe it was a one-night stand. Maybe that was it? But maybe it was more . . .
He didn’t know how he felt about either of those options.
Grabbing an umbrella from the closet, he went back outside, opened it, and hurried to get Lizzie. She opened the door and hopped out, her sandals and purse in her hands. He shut the door and they bolted to the safety of the porch. After closing the umbrella, his eyes landed on her smiling face.
“Damn rain,” she said, shaking her hair out. “It’s gonna be crowded in here today.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, totally not looking forward to that. “I’m so glad you came early. With this crowded house, we’d never be able to talk.”
“Me too. I would have gotten here earlier but the rain started and traffic crawled.”
“Well, you’re here now,” he said, opening the door. “Come on in.”
Lizzie entered and placed her shoes and purse on the entry table he’d made a few years back. Then she spun around and launched herself into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Ugh. I’m so happy to see you!”
He smiled and slid his arms around her tiny waist. “Same here, Bits.”
A puff of air hit his neck and she stepped back, a pretty pout on her lips. “Why’d you have to ever remember that nickname?”
“It’s your fault,” he teased.
“How is it my fault?”
“One of the last conversations we had you said ‘I hate having these small bits of conversation with you.’ I think subconsciously you were telling me to call you ‘Bits,’” he explained, chuckling at her tongue coming out at him. “Saw that.”
“I meant for you to see it.”
Grabbing her hand, he pulled her into the living room and they sat down on the sofa, her feet curled beneath her.
“It’s definitely cooler than it was before it started to rain,” she said.
“Want a sweatshirt or something?”
“Yes, please.”
“One sec,” he answered, then went to the closet yet again, this time pulling out a zippered Cubs hoodie. “This okay?” he asked, holding it up.
“Perfect,” she replied, her grabby hands up in the air. He tossed it to her and then sat back down.
“So . . . how are you?” Lizzie began, leaning into the corner of the sofa. “We talk work, work, work, but not much else.”
“I’m good. Really,” he added when she raised her eyebrow at him. “Working with the wood is peaceful for me.” She snickered loudly and covered her mouth with her hand. “You are twelve.”
“Maybe,” she said, unabashed. “Anyway, sorry about my immaturity interrupting you. It must get lonely though, just having your wood to play with.”
“Oh my God!” he exclaimed, rolling his eyes hard at her, and doing his best not to laugh at her. It’d only encourage her.
“Okay, okay. I’ll stop now. So . . . how’s Molly? You haven’t said much of anything about her . . .”
“I don’t know how she is. I broke up with her like a month ago,” he said matter-of-factly.
“You don’t seem too upset about it,” Lizzie observed.
He shrugged his shoulders. Molly’s clinginess plus his brutal schedule were the final nails in that coffin. The relationship was doomed from the start because Molly simply wasn’t Mia.
Far from it.
Running a hand through his hair, Tom replied to Lizzie. “No, I knew from the beginning it wouldn’t go far.”
“Is this because of that girl
Tom
September 2, 2006
Tom stood on his covered porch, protected from the downpour, as a black Jeep pulled into his driveway. Black Jeep . . .
His eyes widened as the window rolled down a little and Lizzie shouted at him. “Tom! I don’t have my umbrella!”
“One second,” he called out and headed inside. Was it Lizzie at Marc’s house the morning of the Cubs game? He didn’t know how to bring that up to get solid proof. Maybe it was a one-night stand. Maybe that was it? But maybe it was more . . .
He didn’t know how he felt about either of those options.
Grabbing an umbrella from the closet, he went back outside, opened it, and hurried to get Lizzie. She opened the door and hopped out, her sandals and purse in her hands. He shut the door and they bolted to the safety of the porch. After closing the umbrella, his eyes landed on her smiling face.
“Damn rain,” she said, shaking her hair out. “It’s gonna be crowded in here today.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, totally not looking forward to that. “I’m so glad you came early. With this crowded house, we’d never be able to talk.”
“Me too. I would have gotten here earlier but the rain started and traffic crawled.”
“Well, you’re here now,” he said, opening the door. “Come on in.”
Lizzie entered and placed her shoes and purse on the entry table he’d made a few years back. Then she spun around and launched herself into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Ugh. I’m so happy to see you!”
He smiled and slid his arms around her tiny waist. “Same here, Bits.”
A puff of air hit his neck and she stepped back, a pretty pout on her lips. “Why’d you have to ever remember that nickname?”
“It’s your fault,” he teased.
“How is it my fault?”
“One of the last conversations we had you said ‘I hate having these small bits of conversation with you.’ I think subconsciously you were telling me to call you ‘Bits,’” he explained, chuckling at her tongue coming out at him. “Saw that.”
“I meant for you to see it.”
Grabbing her hand, he pulled her into the living room and they sat down on the sofa, her feet curled beneath her.
“It’s definitely cooler than it was before it started to rain,” she said.
“Want a sweatshirt or something?”
“Yes, please.”
“One sec,” he answered, then went to the closet yet again, this time pulling out a zippered Cubs hoodie. “This okay?” he asked, holding it up.
“Perfect,” she replied, her grabby hands up in the air. He tossed it to her and then sat back down.
“So . . . how are you?” Lizzie began, leaning into the corner of the sofa. “We talk work, work, work, but not much else.”
“I’m good. Really,” he added when she raised her eyebrow at him. “Working with the wood is peaceful for me.” She snickered loudly and covered her mouth with her hand. “You are twelve.”
“Maybe,” she said, unabashed. “Anyway, sorry about my immaturity interrupting you. It must get lonely though, just having your wood to play with.”
“Oh my God!” he exclaimed, rolling his eyes hard at her, and doing his best not to laugh at her. It’d only encourage her.
“Okay, okay. I’ll stop now. So . . . how’s Molly? You haven’t said much of anything about her . . .”
“I don’t know how she is. I broke up with her like a month ago,” he said matter-of-factly.
“You don’t seem too upset about it,” Lizzie observed.
He shrugged his shoulders. Molly’s clinginess plus his brutal schedule were the final nails in that coffin. The relationship was doomed from the start because Molly simply wasn’t Mia.
Far from it.
Running a hand through his hair, Tom replied to Lizzie. “No, I knew from the beginning it wouldn’t go far.”
“Is this because of that girl
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