Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 131916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Woodenly, I helped him wash then rinse, then I undid the drain stopper and wrapped him in a towel. He prattled on as he brushed his teeth and hair, still going on about his favorite friends as he dashed into his room and pulled on a fresh pair of pajamas.
He read me another book while I just stared at him. Stared and stared at him through the disorder that billowed and blew through my consciousness. And when he flopped onto his back for me to tuck him in, I lifted his left arm and ran my fingertips over the birthmark on the inner side.
A tidal wave of memories crashed through me.
Nolan giggled. “That’s my love mark.”
“Love mark?” My voice was haggard.
“Yep. My dad said he thinks I probably got it from my mom because it’s almost like a heart, and he bet she loved me a whole, whole lot.”
That disorder surged, and I couldn’t make sense of what I was feeling. The chaos that battered my insides.
I was going insane. Conjuring ideas that I couldn’t afford to conjure. Still, my insides quaked and my spirit shivered.
I pulled his covers to his chin, and he squirmed beneath them. “Do it like my dad does it,” he said through his sweet voice.
I tucked the covers under his little body while my pulse thundered through my veins.
“How’s that?”
“Perfect!” he shrieked, then he threw his arms out and squeezed them around my neck. “I love you the most just like I love my dad!”
“I love you, too.” It was a breath. A whisper, and I finally stood and moved across his room, looking back at the child where he snuggled on his bed.
His heart beating. Blood running through his veins.
Finally, I forced myself to flip off his light. I moved to River’s room, changed into sleep shorts and a tee, and slipped under the cold sheets.
I tried to find sleep, but I couldn’t rest. Couldn’t stop the dangerous idea that had sprouted roots in my heart and mind.
I squeezed my eyes closed. I had to be being…paranoid. Grasping at straws. Imagining things that weren’t there. My heart trying to convince me of something that was impossible.
But still, I couldn’t let it go when River finally slipped into the room in the middle of the night. He crawled in behind me and pulled me into his arms, his big body a thousand degrees as it burned into the chill that had taken me hostage.
I wanted to turn to him and demand answers.
Scream.
Plead.
But no.
I couldn’t force the hazardous thoughts from my tongue.
Because if I was wrong? It would destroy me all over again.
FIFTY-THREE
CHARLEIGH
“The doctor should be with you in a few minutes,” I said, voice hollow as I left the patient in the examination room.
River had tried to convince me not to go in to work, but I’d refused, telling him I had no sick time to take. It was the truth, but it didn’t have anything to do with the reason I couldn’t agree.
I needed to move. To shuck the errant thoughts that had laid siege to my brain and had sunk their talons into my psyche.
Since I’d insisted on going in, Raven had decided she was going to go into work, too.
She’d suggested I drop her off at Moonflower and take her car since I got off earlier, and then I would go back to pick her up at the end of the day.
She’d paused when I’d pulled up outside her shop, and she’d reached out and squeezed my wrist, concern burrowed deep in her brow as she asked, “What’s wrong?”
I had barely been able to toss out the lie. “I…I just haven’t been sleeping well after everything. I think I just need to get back into a normal routine. Shake myself out of the fear.”
She’d nodded and promised, “It’s going to be okay.”
I wanted it to be.
I wanted to feel okay.
To grasp back onto reality.
But I hadn’t been able to escape the thoughts that had plagued me since last night here, either.
They’d followed me throughout the morning.
I moved into the office so I could get the records for Dr. Reynolds’ next appointment, and I pulled out the file cabinet drawer labeled T so I could grab Francisca Thomas’ chart.
Only I stilled when my fingertips brushed over the name on a tab toward the front.
Tayte, Nolan.
Nerves tumbled through my stomach. What did I think I was doing? But instead of ignoring it and moving on, I glanced behind me to make sure no one else was around and pulled out the file.
It wasn’t like I didn’t have access to the files or wasn’t allowed to look, but it felt like what I was doing was illicit.
Wrong.
With my back to the door, I kept it concealed as I rested Nolan’s file on my left arm and flipped it open.