Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
“O-Ophelia,” she whispers. “Hi, baby girl.” Then she turns her head. “Nell Faircross? Hi, Nell.”
Nell lights up, the prettiest picture of all the bright, hopeful feelings flapping around inside me.
“Hi, Miss Angela!” She holds up her unicorn. “Mr. Pickle came to see you too!”
Mom lets out a shaky laugh, weak but there, even if it trembles her body in ways that look painful.
I’m flipping speechless.
I choke out a tearful laugh, too, pressing a hand over my mouth so it doesn’t sound like a scream.
Jesus, please.
Please let this mean she’s coming out of it.
Please let this mean she’ll be okay.
“Mom?” I venture. “How... how do you feel?”
Her weary eyes slide over and stop on me. Even that small movement looks like it takes a terrible toll on her.
“Tired,” she admits. “H-how long have I been...?”
“Out of it? Not too long,” I answer, and her smile fades. “You slipped away the day I got back. Around the time they started the next phase of your meds.”
“Oh, my,” she says. Her hand tightens in mine. “It’s bad then?”
My lips press together.
How do I answer that?
Realistically, her odds are somewhere between surviving a shark attack and winning the lottery even with the new drugs, but dammit, I don’t care.
She’s still in this.
She’s still here, alive and conscious and fighting for me.
“It’s progress, Mom. The doctors are doing everything they can. Your last MRI came back with less than before. They brought back the specialist from Minnesota to help monitor the next phase. It’s all so experimental, but very promising.”
Yeah, supposedly.
I hate being so vague with her, passing off this keep-calm-and-blindly-keep-hoping speech a nurse would give, but I don’t want to scare my mother into losing her fight.
It’s like she knows, though.
She just gives me that knowing Mom look.
“Ros...?”
“Not here,” I answer reluctantly. “I texted asking her to come, but...”
Ugh.
Where do I even start?
I pin on a strained smile.
“But?” My mother’s brows wrinkle.
What else can I give her but the truth?
“I don’t know, Mom.” I shake my head. “I’ve seen her like twice since I came home and we just fight a lot. She ignores my texts. Honestly, I don’t—I don’t know what’s going on with her, but I’m worried I’m going to lose you both.” I swallow the massive lump lodged in my throat. “It’s her new boy, I think. He’s just eating up her time, always pulling her away.”
“New boy? Who?” Mom stares at me.
This time, I frown.
Surely, she had some hint of what my sister was up to before the coma pulled her under?
“You-know-who,” I offer, but she doesn’t say anything. I clear my throat. “So, Mom, how long has Ros been dating Aleksander, anyway?”
I’m not expecting what’s next.
Honestly, I don’t know how my mother could get any paler, but she does.
Her hand seizes mine, her grip so fierce it digs into my palm with bony fingers.
Her eyes widen and she stares in abject disbelief.
Total horror etched in her face.
“Aleksander? Aleksander Arrendell?” she croaks, her voice breaking.
I nod slowly.
“Well, yeah. The one and only.”
“No! N-not him. Not that boy. He’s not the right one, Ophelia. God, he’s—you can’t—she can’t—you can’t let them!”
“Mom, calm down,” I urge, leaning toward her, hating that she’s so upset. But why? “Believe me, if I could convince her to look at other options, I’d—”
I stop as my mother quivers, her eyes darting around the room as her nails sink into my flesh.
“Ophelia, no. No, it’s not right! It’s sacrilege.”
Holy hell, what?
She trails off with a muffled sigh, like just speaking saps her energy.
And those stinging nails in my hand are gone. Her eyes flutter shut as she sinks into the bed, her head lolling to one side.
“Miss Angela?!” Nell whimpers.
“Mom!”
Nell goes tumbling forward as I surge to my feet and press my fingers to my mother’s throat, feeling for—thank God.
There’s still a strong, steady pulse.
I almost had a heart attack myself, but she’s fine.
Or is she?
Leave it to Aleksander effing Arrendell to nearly kill her a second time.
“Miss... Miss Philia?” Nell whines, clinging to my leg. “Is your mom okay?”
“She’s fine, sweetie.” I exhale, dragging a hand over my face before looking down at Nell and gripping her shoulder gently. “It’s hard on the brain to wake up when you’ve been resting for so long. She just wore herself out and fell back asleep, that’s all. C’mon, let’s give her some rest. I’ll take you out for lunch so your uncle Grant can have a break from feeding us.”
That gets a bright smile, even if I need to talk to Grant, myself.
Because I have no idea what my mother’s reaction means.
Not that boy.
It’s not right.
Sacrilege.
Heavy words.
It worries me.
Actually, it scares me, and so does the fact that I have no answers, no idea what to do about it.
It’s almost a blessing that Mom’s out again. The last thing I need is her freaking out again and overstressing when there’s been a flicker of improvement.