Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66861 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66861 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Spencer looked stricken. “Of course. I should’ve asked that first. I’ll call them, but there’s a button right here you can push to get more pain medicine.”
He handed me the button, and almost immediately after pushing it, drowsiness coursed through me. I needed to find out more, to find out how badly I was injured, but sleep promised a temporary reprieve from the pain. “I just—I need to…”
“Of course.” Spencer's voice was faint, as if far away. “Do whatever feels best, Lyss.”
I didn’t learn much the rest of the night. Each time I woke, it was just long enough to press the button for more pain medicine or to take a small sip of water when someone held a glass with a straw up to my mouth. The nurses woke me a few times, too, taking vitals and asking questions, but I couldn’t focus well enough to say much to them.
No matter when I woke during the night, Spencer was there, sitting by my bed or in the armchair in the corner of the room. Once, I asked him where his son was.
“At home, with family,” he said. “I promise, he’s fine. Sleep more if you can.” Then he pushed my hair back from my face and gave me a quick kiss on my forehead. A feeling of lightness filled me as I drifted off again.
Finally, it was morning. The light streaming through the sides of the closed blinds didn’t bother me as much as the overhead lights had last night. Still, the brightness made me blink, and it took me a few seconds to realize that the dark-haired man sitting in the armchair wasn’t Spencer. He didn’t look like Spencer’s brother from the park, either. His hair was stood up taller at the top of his head, and his complexion was a little lighter than theirs had been.
He appeared to be reading on his phone, but then he looked up and gave me a smile. It was the kind of smile that was impossible to ignore, but before I could return it, I was distracted by the sight of my right leg. It was in a huge cast and was raised a few inches off the bed, hanging from some kind of contraption that came down from the ceiling.
Crap. Had it been like that last night, and I’d been too out of it to notice? I wondered how badly it was broken. The cast went from my ankle to beyond my knee. I couldn’t tell how high it went on my leg because of the covers. I couldn’t feel where the cast stopped, either. My whole leg felt numb and sore as hell.
I wasn’t ready to deal with all this quite yet. Plus, I was still so damn tired. My eyes drifted shut and I welcomed the oblivion of sleep.
When I woke again, Spencer was back. At least I thought it was him. The armchair in the corner was partially blocked by a small floral shop that now lined the room. There were flower arrangements on the windowsill and the little bedside table. They looked to be everywhere.
I located the controls for the bed and raised the head of the bed so I could sit up a little. Moving still hurt, but not as much as yesterday. There was some kind of bandage wrapped around my left wrist, but it didn’t hurt to move it.
For the first time since the accident, I felt truly awake, which was ironic considering that Spencer was asleep. He was wearing a blue button-down dress shirt today, this time with a tie. It was slate with navy stripes. His pants looked to be navy, too.
Though I judged him to be in his early thirties, he kind of looked like a little boy, with his head tilted to the side and his eyes closed. He had his elbow on the armrest with his hand supporting his head. It was kind of nice to be able to take a good look at him.
His hair was closely cropped, which normally wasn’t something I appreciated in men, but on him, it worked. His eyebrows were thick and dramatic over what I knew to be spectacularly piercing brown eyes. He had a thin line of stubble along his jaw and over his top lip.
I tried to contrast him with his brother, but the events of yesterday were still a bit fuzzy in my mind. Probably best not to dwell on the fact that I’d been hit by a car. And that the boy, Spencer’s son, almost had been. Somehow, that scared me more than my own injuries.
But Spencer had assured me he was okay. Still, I wished I could see him for himself. What was his name? Spencer had told me last night. Mark? Luke? No, Lucas. That was it.