Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
When I step toward him, the most remorseful I’ve ever felt, for the first time, he holds out his hand, wordlessly disapproving of my approach.
“Alek, I—”
“Need to take a damn hard look at yourself,” he interrupts, seemingly unaffected by the wetness on my cheeks. “I know that day hurt you, Ana.” This is the one time I wish he would call me precious. The fact he uses Ana exposes how much I hurt him. “But you weren’t the only one hurting.” I am truly gutted when he mutters, “I lost everything I’d ever wanted in one fucking day.”
Pure emotion fuels my response. “I did too.”
A strand of blond hair falls out of his man bun when he shakes his head. “You didn’t lose me. You gave me up. That’s different.”
“Because I thought—”
He cuts me off by racing out the door and slamming it shut.
By the time Alek returns to our room, breakfast, lunch, and dinner have passed. I’ve worn a hole in the rug pacing, and he clearly spent the time downing vodka as if it were water.
He can barely stay on his feet.
I realize how terribly wrong I have the situation when blood trickles out of his nose not long before he careens face first to the floor. “Alek.” I roll him over the best I can before pulling his hair out of his face. “Baby.” His cheeks are white, blood is trickling from his nose, and his breathing is shallow. “Fuck, baby, no.”
Too panicked to care about how angry it will make Alek, I race to the door, yank it open, then shout as loud as I can, “Help! I need fucking help!”
No one’s head turns in my direction.
Not a single soul.
Only a ghost.
When he spots my white face and fear-filled eyes, he grabs a man he was showing out, then races him into Alek’s room.
“What the fuck?” Ghost murmurs under his breath when he spots Alek. “What the hell happened? He was fine a second ago.”
While the man, whom I assume is a doctor, conducts a set of vitals on Alek, I ask Ghost, “Did you see him take anything?”
Ghost assists the doctor to put Alek in a seated position with his back braced on the wall before shaking his head. “He’s not gone down that route for years.” He locks his eyes with mine. “Not since you left. He thought his habit was one of the reasons you left so he kicked it years ago in case you ever came back.”
“Not illegal drugs.” I can’t believe I was so stupid to have believed a single thing Stace said. Drugs were Alek’s crutch, but he gave them up for me. “Medication. He’s meant to take it daily. He will die if he doesn’t.”
“What medication?” the doctor asks.
“I don’t know what it’s called, but he had a TBI when he was nine. Anytime he overexerts himself, it causes intracranial pressure, which results in—”
“Brain swelling,” the doctor interrupts, cussing. “We need to get him on the bed.” While Ghost maneuvers Alek like he doesn’t stand an inch taller than his six-foot-four height, the doctor requests for someone in the hall to bring him his bag before shifting his focus to me. “Did he take his medication today?”
Ghost answers on my behalf, “He hasn’t taken anything. Today has been a clusterfuck. We didn’t have time to piss let alone anything else.”
I can’t help but wonder if I was the cause of the carnage today.
The doctor’s worry is heard in his reply when he asks, “Where is his medication? I have prednisone in my bag, but the quicker we administer a dosage of steroids with his prescribed medication, the less damage will occur to his brain.”
“In his car,” I answer for Ghost this time around. “He keeps all his prescriptions hidden in his car.” When shock registers on Ghost’s face, I blubber out, “He didn’t want anyone to know.”
Breaking Alek’s trust is the least of my worries when Ghost mutters, “His car isn’t here.” I’ve never been more grateful for my inability to talk when panicked than now. “We needed a decoy. Alek volunteered. He was wearing a fucking seat belt.”
“A seat belt wouldn’t have stopped his brain from crashing into his skull!” I’m yelling at the wrong person, once again taking out my anger on anyone but me, but it is what I do when I’m stressed. I bite first and plead for forgiveness second.
When Yev arrives with the doctor’s bag, my heart sinks into my chest. I am part of the issue. His battered face and cracked knuckles expose this.
As the doctor administers medication and prepares an IV bag, Ghost instructs Yev to take me to his office.
“What?” I whip around to face Ghost so fast, my hair slaps my face. “I’m not going anywhere.” My anger shifts from Ghost to Yev as fast as it takes for Yev to pluck me from my spot by a rough yank on my arm and toss me onto his shoulder. “Put me fucking down, Yev, or I’ll crash your nuts with a grinder.” He ignores me. “Yev… Yev!”