Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
I swallow thickly and wince when it feels like sandpaper is being shoved down my throat. I glance over at Declan and take in his appearance. His brows are knitted together in worry, there are dark circles under his eyes, and his hair is up in a messy bun. He looks how I feel: like he’s been to hell and back. But even as distressed as he appears, he still looks delicious, with his blue eyes that have the ability to see beyond the bullshit, his full lips, pouty and pink and kissable, and his face full of scruff that I have no doubt would leave burn tracks between a woman’s legs.
Whoa, where the heck did those thoughts come from?
With more effort than it should take, I part my lips to ask where I am and what’s going on, why he looks so upset and was just begging me to come back to him, when the sound of a door swinging open and then voices speaking distract me.
My gaze flits over to where the noise is coming from, and my eyes land on my parents and… Kyle—my fiancé.
“Oh my God!” My mom gasps. “She’s awake?”
“She was just opening her eyes,” Declan explains as he stands and steps back so my mom can take his spot. “We were so worried,” she breathes, a watery smile spreading across her face.
“I’ll, uh, go tell a nurse she’s awake,” Kyle says, glancing at me oddly.
“How are you feeling?” Mom asks, running her fingers gently through my hair. “You gave us quite a scare, Sunshine.” She takes my hand in hers and threads our fingers together.
Confused and disoriented, I don’t say anything. It feels like everyone is talking in riddles. It’s clear I’m in the hospital, but I don’t know why. I want to ask, but my throat hurts, and I’m too tired to speak. I try to smile at her to let her know I’m okay, but the action is too exhausting, so instead, I squeeze her hand the best I can and close my eyes, wanting to rest them for a few minutes.
“Miss Blackwood.” With my name being called, I force my eyes back open, and standing in front of me is an older gentleman dressed in a suit with a white jacket. “I’m Dr. Oswald. You’re in New York Medical because you were in a car accident and hit your head pretty hard.”
His admission has me trying to recall the accident he’s referring to, but when I think too hard, the drumming in my head switches to downright banging, and I stop trying to remember.
Dr. Oswald has me go through various exercises to test my sight and touch, and then he asks if I can speak. The room is quiet—the only sound coming from the incessant beeping—and I want to say something to break the silence, but I can’t find it in me to speak. It should be so easy… I’ve been speaking for over thirty years. All I have to do is part my lips and release the words, but I can’t.
“It’s okay,” the doctor says. “You’ve been through quite an ordeal. Would you like something to drink?”
I nod, suddenly extremely thirsty, and my mom rushes to the counter to pour me something to drink.
She brings the cup to my lips, and I open my mouth just enough to swallow down the cool water. It feels like heaven sliding down and softening the feel of sandpaper in my throat.
Once my throat isn’t so dry, I release a deep breath and attempt to speak. “I…” I croak out.
“Take your time,” Dr. Oswald says gently.
“I don’t know what happened.”
In my peripheral, my parents both frown, and Kyle raises his brows.
The doctor smiles softly. “That’s okay. Sometimes when we hit our heads, our brains go a little haywire. Can you tell me your name?”
“Kendall.”
“Good,” the doctor says. “Do you know the people in this room?”
I nod, then clear my throat. “My parents, Declan, and Kyle.”
“Good,” the doctor repeats. “And do you know what year it is?”
I think for a moment, but it’s a bit fuzzy, so I go with the year that pops into my head.
“That’s right. Now, I want you to tell me the last thing you remember.”
I think for a few moments, trying to remember this supposed accident he mentioned, but my last memory is… laughing, drinking… “Declan and me…” I try to place where we are, what we’re doing… And then it hits me. “Dancing on New Year’s Eve.” I glance at Declan, and his features are etched with concern. “We were talking about the song we were working on, and then you asked me to dance. We danced to…” I think hard, trying to recall the details. “I can’t remember.” I shake my head, then wince at the pain radiating into my skull.