Total pages in book: 12
Estimated words: 11601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 58(@200wpm)___ 46(@250wpm)___ 39(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 11601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 58(@200wpm)___ 46(@250wpm)___ 39(@300wpm)
“They have the best doctors in the country working on him. Have a little faith, Sunshine.”
Faith in who? I don’t think God has ever been on my side.
But if there is a God…
Please, please let Grayson be okay.
As we sit in the dim hospital hallway, the events of the night flood back to me in flashes. The screech of tires, the sound of shattering glass, the feeling of being tossed around like a ragdoll in the collision. Harrison’s sneers and pure, unadulterated hatred. The feel of the gun in my hand as I pull the trigger. The sound of the bullet hitting flesh. The horrid stench of blood. It all feels like a nightmare I can’t wake up from.
As the minutes tick by in silence, I let myself lean into Colton’s strength, letting go of some of the tension that has been coiled tight within me since I woke up, kidnapped and bound by Harrison.
In the midst of all the questions and confusion, his steady presence is like an anchor keeping me from drifting away in a sea of uncertainty. I squeeze his hand back, drawing strength from his touch.
My father would have a heart attack if he were to find me like this — holding hands with who is supposed to be the enemy…finding solace in Colton Bennett in the midst of chaos.
***
I must have dozed off, because the next thing I know, I’m being shaken awake. I sit up with a gasp, my eyes landing on the doctor who has been operating on Grayson.
Lurching forward, I come to my feet. “How is he? Is Grayson okay? Is he awake?”
The doctor rubs a hand over his face, before letting out a small sigh. “Mr. Hale’s injuries are…severe,” he starts, first focusing on Grayson’s uncle, before he meets my eyes.
When he grimaces, my heart thunders in my chest.
“We were able to stop the abdominal bleeding, but as for the head injury, it was extremely traumatic. He has severe brain swelling and there’s damage that we have done our very best to repair.” The doctor swallows, his gaze shifting to something that looks akin to remorse. “I think you should prepare yourself in the case that he may never recover from this.”
“What are you saying?” Grayson’s aunt gasps weakly.
“Mr. Hale may never wake up—”
I don’t hear the rest of his sentence. Blood rushes between my ears with a loud roar. The world spins and cold sweat covers every inch of my clammy body.
Grayson might never wake up.
His brain injury is so severe…that he may end up in a coma.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Grayson Hale — my first love, the man who showed me that the world is capable of kindness. The man who walked into my life, with his big heart and beautiful smile. He was both mysteriously complicated and beautifully broken. That Grayson…may never wake up again.
To never hear his voice.
To never see his smile.
To never feel his warmth.
My stomach revolts and nausea builds. Acidic bile fills my mouth and I fight the urge to gag. Tears slide down my cheeks and my throat closes up. The disgusting feeling of sickness surges through me, clawing under my flesh like a poisoned disease.
I hear someone calling my name with urgency.
Colton maybe…
I feel his arms around me.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
The floor disappears from under my feet and my weight crashes down into the dark, never-ending abyss. My eyes roll back in my skull and…the world goes black.
My father had been right.
I really am cursed, and anyone who ever comes close to me, will be damned.
CHAPTER FOUR
Colton
A week later
“Are you sure you don’t need me there? Say the word, Colton, and I’ll catch a plane tonight,” Lila says, sounding a little out of breath. “If Riley needs me—”
“She’s fine.”
“She is definitely not fine!” she exclaims. “She’s not picking up my calls. I’m worried about her. Is she eating? Oh my God, I should be with her right now.”
My gaze flits over to where Riley is curled up on the couch, sleeping with a pained expression on her face. She looks so small and fragile in that moment, a stark contrast to her usual fiery demeanor.
I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face. “You’re right, she’s not fine. But she will be. Right now, you need to focus on Maddox while I take care of Riley.”
Brad Coulter is dying. From cancer.
Maddox was never close with his father. In fact, my best friend hated Brad. They never got along, and if they were ever in the same room — it was a disaster of male testosterone. Years of unchecked anger and festered disappointment. Things always got ugly when son and father were together.
The only thing fatherly Brad Coulter has ever done is fund Maddox’s lifestyle.
Maybe that’s why Maddox and I are best friends.
Our fathers are practically alike in every way possible. I guess in some ways, Maddox and I are cut from the same cloth. We were born in the corrupted world of high-society, only to be shackled by its ambiguous rules and left to deal with the aftermath of our decaying souls.