Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 71090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Who the fuck knew what was in store for me.
Everything, and I do mean everything, was different now that I was missing a piece of myself.
Walking. Driving a car. Getting out of bed. Taking a shower. Putting on motherfuckin’ pants.
There was not one single thing that I could do easily anymore.
Everything took forethought.
I had to plan out my morning now, the night before.
Used to be I could just get out of bed anytime I wanted.
Now, I had to wake up, rub motherfuckin’ lotion on. Something I’d never done in my entire life. Then slip the liner on over what remained of my leg, fit the pin in the socket of my prosthetic, then go about my day.
That wasn’t the end of it, though.
There were days that I had to add extra socks to my leg because it shrinks. Then there are days I have to wear none at all because it’s bloated.
I never realized just how much my legs changed throughout the day until I had to start fitting it into a piece of plastic that refused to bend, even a little bit.
I turned around and left, leaving Blake’s concerned gaze at my back, passing the chief who was staring at his feet.
I would’ve escaped, too, as per my usual, but the minute I opened the door to leave, I ran into my over reacting brother.
“What’s wrong?” He asked immediately.
I pushed past him. “I forgot my phone in the car. Is it alright if I go get it, mom?”
Mercy, my sister in law, snickered under her breath.
She was my partner in crime, helping me get away from Miller’s concerned gaze watching my every move.
Sometimes I felt like I couldn’t breathe…like right now.
The last thing I wanted was for the girl I had the hots for to look at me as less of a man. Which was what Blake had done. Regardless of whether she’d meant to or not.
***
“This is really good eating,” Miller said, moaning over the taste of his lobster as he ate sloppily.
Luke, our captain on the SWAT team, snorted.
“Kinda hard to fuck up sea food, but it is pretty good. Missy did a fine good job,” Luke said, dipping his piece of the tail into the butter with his fingers.
His wife, Reese, smacked him. “Use your fork, you Neanderthal.”
He grinned, pieces of shellfish stuck to his teeth.
“That’s nasty,” Georgia said, grimacing.
Georgia was the wife to Nico, another member on the SWAT team. She was a sweet little thing that still amazed me, to this day, that she could handle the likes of her husband.
Nico was a dark son of a bitch. Always moody and rarely talking; he never seemed approachable.
Not that that bothered me. I could hold a conversation with him if I wanted to. I knew he’d have my back always, but I also knew he just wasn’t that much of a talker, which suited me just fine. I didn’t want to do much talking myself, lately.
“Blake made it,” I said around a mouthful of French fries.
Luke looked at me sharply. “Blake?”
The Chief pointed to the back porch where Blake was currently sleeping on a hammock.
“My niece,” he said.
I’d been wondering why she didn’t eat, but I didn’t want to let on that I cared.
So, I’d stayed silent and kept my eyes on her for the last two hours.
After she’d finished cooking, she’d slipped out the backdoor, and had laid down in the hammock. Then promptly fell asleep.
My eyes hadn’t strayed from her form since.
She slept hard. It was almost as if she hadn’t had any sleep since the bad call she’d taken three nights before.
Then to have her house broken into, on top of that, probably wasn’t conducive to sleeping well at her own place.
“What’s she doing out there?” Downy asked, turning around in his seat to look out the window. “She could’ve eaten with us.”
“She has migraines,” Chief Rhodes said. “Fresh air seems to help.”
That explained the icepack.
It also explained why she was under a blanket in the shade, rather than in the sun.
I’d read somewhere that sun tended to have an adverse reaction to migraines.
“Eww,” Memphis said. “You should tell her to look up pressure points on the body. Those always used to help me.”
“She doesn’t have migraines anymore. I can hit one pressure point perfect…Owww! What’d you do that for?” Downy asked Memphis, rubbing the back of his arm where I’d guessed she’d pinched him.
She didn’t even flinch from the big man’s glare.
“Not at the dinner table, you big shit,” Memphis glared.
I snorted, but nonetheless finished my lunch and stood. “It’s been fun.”
“You’re leaving already?” Miller asked in surprise.
Before my accident, I’d been a social butterfly.
Now, though, not so much.
I’d rather be in my own company.
I literally did have somewhere to go, though.
“I have to get fitted for my new prosthesis. The blade,” I said, finishing up my water and walking into the kitchen.
A couple of weeks ago, I’d been fitted for the blade, and today would be the first time I’d wear it.
Dumping my plate into the sink, I rinsed it off and then loaded it into the dishwasher.
As I was doing so, the backdoor opened.
I knew it was her without even turning around.
She smelled.
Not in a bad way, either.
That, at least, would make it a lot easier to deal with her. To get her out of my head.
But no. She had to smell like the goddamn sun in the middle of a rainstorm. The honeysuckles that bloomed wild around the county.
Jesus.
Small, nimble fingers emptied the ice pack I’d seen over her eyes earlier into the sink, and she walked to the side partially to toss the pack into a drawer filled with ones just like it.
“How was it?” She asked softly.
I put the fork into the washer and closed it before turning to her. “It was good.”
She nodded, wincing slightly.
“Good,” she said softly. “I’ll see you later.”
With that, she went out the garage door, to what I assumed was her car.
I watched her ass the entire way, too.
After saying my goodbyes, I walked out the front door and strode across the chief’s lawn to my truck.