Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
“Felt better,” she murmurs, holding her arm up, looking at the brace Doc’s put on. Then she inhales and hisses, feeling her torso. “Ouch.”
“Doc thinks you’ve got a few broken ribs,” I say, reaching for her fractured arm and lowering it to the mattress.
“Do you need anything for the pain?” Beau asks. “Or some water, perhaps?”
“Yes, Advil?” I ask. “Water?” Why is Beau thinking of all the important things? My brain has short-circuited. “Where’s Doc? Someone should get Doc. Beau, go get Doc.”
“Brad,” Pearl breathes, sinking farther into the bed on a wince.
Fuck. “She’s in pain. Go get Doc.”
“Brad, stop!” Pearl snaps. “Jesus, let me breathe. Just give me some space.”
I stand up straight, wounded, my face, I’m sure, if Beau’s half-smile is a measure, indignant. “To be clear,” I say, trying and failing to force the scorn from my voice. “You never get space ever again.” Pearl’s eyebrows jump up, and I move in and crowd her, making my point. “I nearly fucking lost you.” I frame her head with my forearms and get my face close to hers. “Which means any chance of space ever again is really fucking slim, do you understand me?”
She nods, looking quite startled, so I kiss away her surprise, dotting pecks everywhere I can put my lips. And she doesn’t protest. Doesn’t demand space. Much better. I finally pull away and catch Beau’s soft, knowing smile. I flip her a scowl. She can judge all she likes. Could give a fuck. Don’t.
“Oh, she’s awake.” Doc enters, happy to see his patient has come around. “How are you feeling, Pearl?”
“Like I’ve been run down by a Mercedes.”
Beau snorts, chuckling. I do not. This is not funny. I cast Beau a warning look before giving my attention to someone who will take this seriously. “I think she needs some pain relief. And some water.”
“And a pee,” Pearl adds, pushing her good hand into the mattress, trying to move.
I swoop in, blocking her. “What the hell are you doing?”
She exhales, going heavy on the bed again, giving her sleepy eyes to Doc. “I think it’s too early for visitors, Doc.”
Beau snorts unattractively again, and Doc joins her. So I’m surrounded by fucking clowns now, am I? “Tough,” I grunt. “And I’m not a visitor.”
“Then what are you?” Beau asks.
“A walking bad mood, so I recommend not fucking with me.” I round the bed and pull the blood pressure machine forward, taking the band and helping myself to Pearl’s arm. “What’s ideal, Doc?” I ask. “One-ten over seventy?”
“Around there, yes.” He takes over the controls and checks Pearl’s blood pressure again, the consistent whirring and pumping of the machine filling the silence for a few moments as I watch the digits. I nod, satisfied, when it reads a good one-fifteen over sixty-eight. The ripping sound of Velcro as Doc removes the band from Pearl’s arm makes her flinch.
“Did that hurt?” I ask, moving in, checking her arm. “That hurt. She needs pain relief.”
“Or Brad relief,” Pearl grumbles, not quietly enough for me not to hear. Beau’s laughing again.
I open my mouth, ready to launch into a lecture on acceptable levels of humor and appropriate times, but when I catch a sparkle in Pearl’s eye, my scorn fades and everything other than that in this moment feels inconsequential. She smiles. That only adds to my wonder. “Chill out,” she breathes, probably exasperated by my fussing.
“Chill out,” I mutter, dropping to a chair next to the bed, forcing her to turn her head on the pillow to see me. Such a young thing to say. “Pearl.” I shift closer, taking her hand. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“I’m okay.”
I laugh under my breath. Okay? Look at her. There’s not one inch of her body without a scuff or mark. “You will be.”
“Please stop stressing out.”
“Never. You could have died.”
I can see she wants to roll her eyes, but she won’t. Instead, she squeezes my hold. “At least I wouldn’t have died a virgin.”
“We need to have a discussion about your humor.”
“Okay. But can I pee first?”
I look at Doc. “Doesn’t she have one of those bag things?”
“I hadn’t got around to a catheter.” Doc rummages through his bag. “And now she’s awake, we don’t need one.”
My head retracts on my neck. “You’re surely not suggesting she walks to the bathroom.”
“That is exactly what I’m suggesting, Brad.”
“Are you insane?”
He laughs, as does Beau. For fuck’s sake. I turn to her. “Does pregnancy bring out the inner hyena in you or what?”
“Chill out,” she says, her tongue in her cheek. “Want some help?”
“Please,” Pearl replies, shaking off my hold and starting to shift up the bed.
“What? No.” I stand, looming over her. “This is madness.” I glare at Doc. “You can’t allow this.”
“I encourage movement, Brad, or her muscles will seize up. The longer she remains on her ass, the longer it’ll take to recover.”