Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Levi,” Heather says as she comes toward me, and I look at Fawn, who is now standing next to my bed. Her face goes pale, which pisses me the fuck off.
“What the fuck, Eva?” Lucas asks, and she turns her eyes to him.
“She wanted to see him—she could have lost him.”
“I can’t believe you would do this right now,” Mom says glaring at Heather and Eva.
“I just . . . Eva told me what happened and I wanted to . . .”
“That’s nice and all, but if you’re who I think you are, then you need to leave. If Levi wanted anything to do with you, he would have called you, but he didn’t,” Libby says, and I hold back a smile. Libby is hard as nails when it comes to her family.
“She’s right. I appreciate your concern, but we have nothing to talk about,” I state firmly, and Heather looks around the room before looking at me once more.
“We were going to get married. I still care about you,” she says, but I know it’s a lie. She didn’t care about me when we were together, and she sure as fuck doesn’t care about me now.
“If you don’t leave, I will call security to escort you out,” Fawn says as Heather starts toward the bed.
“You can’t do that,” Eva says. Fawn’s eyes go to her.
“I can and I will. You shouldn’t have brought her here.”
“Who do you think you are?” Eva asks as her face turns red.
“Eva, take Heather and leave,” Mom says.
“Seriously?” she asks, looking at Mom, then at Lucas.
“Yes,” Lucas says, and she narrows her eyes.
“Whatever, I’m leaving,” Heather says. Eva looks around the room, glaring at everyone, before she disappears out the door with Heather.
“Good riddance,” Fawn mutters, and I chuckle, then groan again. Her eyes fly down to me. “Are you okay?”
“Kiss me.”
“No.”
“Kiss me,” I repeat, and she sighs, then leans down, pressing a kiss to my lips.
“Love you, baby.”
“I love you, too.” She rests her hand against the side of my face, kissing me once more, softly, before taking a seat on the chair next to my bed, where she pretty much stays until it’s time for me to be released from the hospital.
Watching Fawn walk into the living room with the phone to her ear, I set my computer aside, then tag her hand as she tries to pass me. I pull her toward me, forcing her to take a seat. I dodge her hand as she reaches out to smack me away as I try to kiss her. “Yes, I will be there Saturday at noon,” she says to whomever she’s talking to, and I kiss the side of her neck, smiling as she tries to elbow me, never putting enough force behind the action to actually do damage, since she knows I’m still healing. It’s been four days since I was released from the hospital, and even though I still have a lot of healing and physical therapy to do, I feel back to myself.
“Okay, I’ll see you Monday, Mrs. Thompson, and thank you for the update,” she says, pulling the phone away from her ear and hitting the “End Call” button. “Seriously, you need to stop. You are going to end up hurting yourself,” she grouches, glaring at the smile on my face.
“What was the phone call about?” I ask, ignoring her glare. She narrows her eyes when I try to pull her into my lap.
“Mrs. Thompson talked to Tamara’s grandmother today. She wanted to let me know that Tamara will be moving. She didn’t want me to worry when Tamara wasn’t at school when I return to work next week.”
“What’s going on Saturday?”
“They are having a service for Tamara’s mom. Her grandmother asked Mrs. Thompson to let me know so I could go show my support if I wanted to.”
“You feel up to that?”
“Yes,” she says quietly, then turns sideways on the couch to face me completely. “I’m glad that Tamara’s getting some kind of closure. I just hope now she can work on healing.”
“Me, too, baby,” I agree softly. The DNA from the SUV came back as that of Elia Albergastey, so we knew something happened to Tamara’s mom in that vehicle. The CSI team concluded that one person could not lose that much blood and survive without immediate medical help, which left us to conclude, sadly, that Tamara’s mother had been murdered.
“What are the moms doing?” I ask, hearing banging in the apartment next door, and she rolls her eyes.
“Who the hell knows? I swear, they are going to make me lose my mind. Whose idea was it to let them help me move, anyway?” she asks, looking at the wall between our apartments when the banging gets even louder.
“Yours.” I smile, and her nose scrunches up.
“I don’t know what I was thinking.”