Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“But what if he isn’t?” I perch on the side of the bed, keeping my voice low like he does. We don’t need anybody accidentally overhearing us. “He could be wandering around with a head wound that’s getting worse without him knowing about it.”
“That sounds pretty dramatic.”
“I’m not kidding.” I know why he’s trying to make a joke about it. He wants to make me feel better. It’s not that he doesn’t care.
A funny look comes over his face as his eyes search mine. “You’re really worried about him, aren’t you?”
“Why shouldn’t I be?”
There’s a knock at the door before a cheerful young nurse walks in. “Just coming to check on vitals. How are you feeling, Mr. Alistair?”
“You can call me Colt,” he murmurs. “And I guess I’m all right.”
“You got lucky, from what I’ve heard.”
“I don’t feel so lucky right now. Are you sure I need to stay?”
“I don’t make the rules, but I’m pretty sure it’s for the best that you do.” He grumbles quietly while she takes his blood pressure, and I go to the window to look out into the darkness. Well, we were on our way to the hospital, weren’t we? We ended up here eventually.
Where are you? I hate the idea of Nix being alone out there somewhere. Sure, he took care of himself all these months on his own, hiding, but that doesn’t mean I want him to have to do it again. I don’t want him to be alone.
Is there something wrong with me? Why should I care the way I do? He killed Mom. He hurt me. I should hate him.
But what I really want to do now that I know Colt will be okay is leave this hospital and find his brother. It’s torture, not knowing, having to imagine. He did seem strong, though, didn’t he? He wasn’t dazed or anything. He knew exactly what he was doing. I need to cling to the hope that he didn’t somehow deteriorate once the adrenaline wore off.
“Okay, you’re all set.” I turn when the nurse finishes her work. She gives me an appraising look. “Are you planning on staying the night?” she asks with sympathy in her voice.
“Can I? I didn’t know if that was possible. I would like to.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Colt tells me, but the nurse just smiles and shakes her head a little.
“Men are so stubborn, aren’t they?” she asks me, and we share a soft laugh. Pointing to a vinyl-covered sofa under the window, she explains, “That opens into a bed, and there are sheets and pillows in the closet. Just in case you want to get comfortable.”
“Thank you so much.” It’s good to know I have the option. Right now, I can’t imagine going home alone, where I can sit and worry for Nix, for Colt, for me. Why did the brakes fail? Who did this? Deborah and Dennis are dead.
Now that we’re alone again, I sit down with Colt and take his hand. “I was so scared when you were just sitting there, unconscious,” I whisper. The memory is an icy fist that closes around my heart and squeezes tight enough to take my breath away.
“That’s all over now. I’m okay. A concussion. It’s nothing.”
Funny, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. “It could’ve been a lot worse.”
“Don’t start spiraling. It’s not going to make you feel any better.”
Too late. “Come on. Like I’m supposed to think this is all a big coincidence? We both know it’s not. Since when do brakes fail out of nowhere?”
His nostrils flare when he takes a deep breath, which he releases slowly. It is killing me to see him like this—there’s plenty of strength in his voice and anger in his eyes, but he’s lying in bed wearing a hospital gown. That sort of takes the edge off. Not that I would ever call him weak, but he’s about as close to it as I’ve ever seen him. “We will get to the bottom of it one way or another. If somebody is responsible for this, they’re going to pay.”
The machine next to him that’s been monitoring his heart rate starts beeping faster. “Okay, let’s not talk about it right now,” I decide, glancing up at the display. “All we need is somebody running in here thinking you’re having a cardiac incident, or whatever it’s called.”
“Then you definitely shouldn’t kiss me, because that will make my heart race too fast.”
“I don’t know. Maybe we could take our chances.” With a careful lean over in his direction, our mouths touch, and I know it’s exactly what I needed. I was terrified back there for that one horrifying moment when I didn’t know if he was dead or alive. This feels like a gift.
It’s such a shame there’s still something inside me holding me back from being fully present. And he knows it. There’s disappointment in his eyes when I pull back. “You’re still thinking about him,” he says in a soft voice.