Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
I felt her eyes on me as I helped us navigate our way to the front door, and when I looked down into her eyes, I was startled to find that my mouth was only a foot or so away from hers.
If I leaned down, and she leaned up…
“What had you in the hospital?” she asked curiously.
I groaned. “I’ll tell you when I don’t have to make sure your psycho ex didn’t follow us, and I can drink a fuck ton.”
“That bad?” she asked.
I reluctantly turned my face away so we could climb the steps, opening the door not a few seconds later.
The alarm beeped, indicating that I had about ten seconds before it sounded, and I said, “Hang tight. Gotta get that off.”
Only when I was sure that she would be able to hold herself up did I let her go, and I made it to the alarm and got it shut off with three seconds left.
After disarming it, I jogged right back, finding her leaning heavily on the wall right beside the door.
“Getting better or worse?” I asked.
Logically, I knew that she wouldn’t have that pill in her system yet, but I also knew that the vibration from the motorcycle couldn’t have felt too good, either.
Shit, I really should’ve done better on bringing my truck today.
That was a mistake on my part, and now I had this weird feeling in my gut that told me I should’ve not thought about out-maneuverability, and instead thought about her comfort.
“I think it’s a bit of both?” she wondered. “The exhaustion is still there, but the pain is ebbing. I’m not sure whether it’s from the fact that we’re stationary now, or from the pill, but whatever it is, I’m grateful. I didn’t realize getting shot sucked this bad. And I was only shot in the arm. How much worse would it be in a different part of my body?”
I explained about how her shoulder was the most moveable joint in her body, and when I was finished, she didn’t feel near as weak.
At least, I hoped she didn’t.
Within ten minutes, I had her situated on my couch, her shoes off, a burrito in her hands, and her Swiss Rolls on the arm of the couch right next to her.
“I gotta go get Al some time outside,” I apologized. “We’re gonna walk the perimeter of the fence nearest my cabin. It’ll take me about thirty minutes, if not a little bit more or less depending on Al’s temperament today. Once I have that done, I want to get up to the main house and see what Hunt, our computer genius, found. Do you want to come with me, or stay?”
“With you, on both.” She paused. “But I think it’s best that I stay for the walk part, or I’ll slow you down.”
I waved that away.
“The distance isn’t the problem. It’s the time outside with a person. So if you’d like to come, that’s fine. I can keep it close to the house for today,” I offered.
I should’ve immediately told her ass no. She didn’t need to come. That she needed to rest. That she was just shot in the damn shoulder for fuck’s sake.
But I wanted her with me.
I gestured, and she followed me outside, Al tailing a couple of feet back with his ears pricked upwards.
She fell into step beside me, at first silent, but then babbling about this and that a mile a minute for the next fifteen minutes or so.
“So tell me about the dad thing,” she ordered softly. “I know that you didn’t know about him. Otherwise, everyone in that room wouldn’t have looked so flabbergasted at the mention of who your father was.”
I snorted, then went on to explain.
“I’ll tell you my end, and then I’ll tell you my dad’s end,” I offered. “It starts with me getting put into foster care because my mother didn’t want me. Fast forward to me in my fourth home, and I finally think I’ve found the one place that won’t make me hate my life. Only, that wasn’t quite what I got.”
“You got hurt,” she guessed, her voice breaking at the words.
“I got a lot of things,” I sighed. “Beating was one of the better things. At least I knew what to expect. I mean, it was just a slap, a punch, or a kick most of the time. There were no broken bones or truly harmful beatings to the point where I couldn’t go to school the next day. But as I got older, and people started to notice me a little more, my foster father changed. Became meaner. More vindictive. Things degraded, and by the time that I walked out of that life at the age of eighteen, then joined the military… well, let’s just say that I didn’t have the best frame of mind.”