Total pages in book: 191
Estimated words: 182070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
But… I knew. I knew how it had happened. I had just prayed it hadn’t. But I’d had to leave for work, and I’d been distracted by Deepa’s call and had just told myself what I’d done was enough.
And now….
I squeezed my eyes closed so that I wouldn’t cry. I wasn’t helpless. Everything would work out. I had everything that WatchTube would possibly need or want to confirm my identity.
But this tiny little thread of fear still pulsed through my body at the what-if.
What if they wouldn’t give me my channel back?
Breathing in deeply through my nose, I told Gunner, “You really don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll wait,” he repeated himself. Unfortunately.
The old owner of the gym I worked at, Mr. DeMaio, once told me that there was no one more stubborn than a professional athlete. “It doesn’t matter if they’re retired or in the middle of their prime, Bianca, they’re stubborn asses. Just look at my granddaughter.” And I remembered then how he’d said that right as she had been walking by because she’d pointed at him on her way to the manager’s office and replied with “Shiiiit. Look in the mirror, Grandpa.” And all three of us had laughed, and man, did I freaking miss them.
One of them would have come with me if this had happened while they’d still owned Maio House.
The difference was that I wouldn’t have complained if one of them had been around, taking Gunner’s place. I wouldn’t have minded at all. They weren’t assholes.
I guess that stubbornness explained why Zac was coming even though I told him not to.
I sighed and tried to dig deep in my heart and be more patient. Be a better person and not be aggravated by Gunner just for the sake of being aggravated because it was him here.
I had bigger shit to worry about.
Sure, he was annoying. And a micromanager. And a dick. And not charismatic or likable enough to get away with the passive-aggressive stuff that spewed out of his mouth.
“I’m getting something to drink,” my current boss said suddenly, standing up. He paused for a second, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t my imagination that it hurt him to offer, “You want something?”
“No, thank you.” See? I was trying. Because I finally knew I wasn’t going to be at Maio House much longer. That was the one and only bright side to today, even though it was a double-edged joy. Losing my friend but gaining my freedom.
Gunner shrugged though and headed off toward a corner as I sat there, cradling my elbow against my side and breathing in and out through my nose.
If I had just walked the other way toward the bathrooms….
I pulled my phone out again and started to send my sister a message before deciding I should wait until I was all stitched up. I didn’t want her freaking out, because she would, or blowing up my phone, because she would do that too. I’d send her a picture when I was done and out of here. That would be perfect.
Leaning back against the chair, I closed my eyes and tried to think about what I could work on in my next video. It would have to be something easy because of the stitches, that was for sure. At least it was my left arm.
Hmm. It had been a while since I’d made something cold. It was still warm enough, in Houston at least, to where that would be a hit.
More frozen yogurt?
Something touching my knee had me jerking my leg back and opening my eyes with a flinch.
But the second I focused, I found a familiar set of light blue eyes inches away from me.
He really had come.
Zac’s face was careful as his gaze slid from my head down to the elbow I was holding on my lap, wrapped in a towel. The hand he had touched me with flexed on my knee, and he tipped his head to the side before asking softly, “You all right, darlin’?”
“Yeah,” I answered. “It just hurts.”
He frowned, and one of those great big hands landed on my inner forearm, his callused thumb making a small circle there. He was in sweats and a T-shirt, a cap pulled down low and covering his hair and most of his face. And he’d never looked better to me as he gazed down at my arm with his forehead furrowed. “I bet. What happened?”
“Someone had broken a glass earlier and they didn’t sweep it all up. I tripped and fell right on it like an idiot. Just busted my ass. We asked the manager for a vacuum to get all the pieces, but he never brought it,” I explained as he stared at me. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Why didn’t you call me?” he answered, lifting his head. His eyebrows were knitted together, and the corners of his mouth were tight.