When He Reads To Me Book Novels & Stories

Something must be bothering him and even if I asked, he wouldn’t want to talk to me about it. I pulled the blanket up to his chin. He settled against the pillows, eyes already heavy. “Do you want me to read you a bedtime story?” I asked, rubbing his head. He nodded. I remembered when I did this for Ethan. He must miss this too. I just wished I could get this done and have both of my children around me. I reached for the book on his bedside table. The dragon who couldn’t roar. I had been reading the story for him for some days now. We’d probably get to the ending today.

In a cozy room filled with colorful toys and books, Theo, a curious and energetic 3-year-old, sat on the floor surrounded by his favorite stuffed animals. His nanny, Hazel, a kind and patient young woman, sat beside him with a book in her hands, ready to embark on a magical storytelling journey. Hazel: "Are you ready for a story, Theo?" Theo: "Yes, Hazel! Story, story!" Hazel smiled warmly and began to read from the book, her voice gentle and soothing as she brought the words to life.

I said. "I think so as well!" Will smiled at me and said. "He knows everything! He's like an encyclopedia! I wish I could know as many things as he does, but he said I had to read a lot of books. I hate reading books, you know. It's so boring." "If you read with me, I guess it won't be boring." I winked at him. "Really?! Are you going to read me bedtime stories every night like my mother used to do?" Will looked at me with sparks in his honey-colored eyes.

If I invest in it now, it will be easier for him to lead when the time comes. I spent so much time with him. That evening, I didn't want to leave; I didn't want to leave him or stop playing with his car toys. But I knew it would not be right to stay. He was already feeling sleepy. “Do you want me to read you a bedtime story?” My eyes were already surfing through the books on the shelf, reading the title on them. “Yes, but it's usually my Dad who reads it for me,” I knew he was referring to Dave.

She’s my little girl and nothing, or no one will ever change that. "Go on, Sweetheart. Go and get your jammies on." Riley encourages her and it works as she starts running quickly toward the room that has now become her bedroom, As she gets to it so she stops and turns back round to face us. "Mama, would it be okay if Riley reads a book to me tonight?"

It was so sweet I felt my heart twitch. “Will you tell me more about her?” I asked when I felt sure I wouldn't cry again. “Like some happy memories. I know your childhood was shit, but you must have at least some happy memories of your mom.” “She loved books. When I was little, she would always read to me before I fell asleep. Not the usual fairytales, but poems and things like that. I was too little to understand any of it, but I liked listening to her as she read the words I didn’t even know existed. As I grew, I started reading myself, but she would still read me every time I was sick or got beaten. She would sit at the edge of my bed like an angel and read me those beautiful words.”

I manage with a tiny shrug. "Do you want to talk?" "Not yet," I say, my voice cracking as I choke back a sob. She nods, offering me a smile. "Okay." *** "How many times have you read that book?" Diana asks. "Too many." "Doesn't Logan have any other ones?" "Yeah but this one is just so good!" She laughs a little. "You should read it to me." I glance up to look at her through the mirror. "What?" Her eyes flick to mine for a moment before she returns to braiding my hair. "You should read it to me," she repeats.

His voice was lazy, like he hadn’t just wrecked every coherent thought in my head. It took me a second to process, to find words again. "Uh... one of Evangeline’s books. It’s a love story." His eyebrow lifted, “Yeah? Let’s hear it, then. Read it to me.” I swallowed, glancing at him for a second. His head was still in my lap, eyes expectant and lips still slightly swollen from our kiss. I wasn’t even sure I could read two sentences with him looking at me like that. But I cleared my throat and opened the book anyway, forcing myself to focus on the words.

I opted for his shirt and shorts, placing my dress on the nearby couch. "Let me read you a book," Ralph proposed. "Why do you love books so much?" "It was my mother's hobby." "You seem to have inherited all the good hobbies from your parents," I commented, earning a smile from him. Leaning against his body, he held the book in front of me. His deep, calming voice resembled a sweet melody, ear candy, to be precise. Uncertain how many pages he read, I dozed off. A knock on the door woke me, and I realized he had slept too.

I snapped my head up to him and smiled at the redness in his cheeks, before handing him the book, pulling the covers back on the opposite side to where he was lying, and jumped in. "I'd like that!" I enjoyed hearing his voice. He smiled quickly and slid under the quilt himself before hesitantly holding his arm out for me to shuffle into him. I did so immediately and placed my head on his shoulder while his arm wrapped around me to hold the book open. "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..." He read. This... this is what I always imagined happiness would feel like.