Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“You’re really lucky to have him,” I told Atlas, “All of them,” I added, the longing in my heart so acute that it hurt. A physical pang behind my ribcage that I wanted to rub at to ease.
Atlas’s head tipped to the side, watching me, and I got the feeling he was seeing more than I wanted him to.
“I know,” he agreed, nodding.
“Do you?” I asked, knowing I was pushing it, but unable to help myself.
I was projecting and I knew it.
But if you had a family that loved you that much, why the hell would you spend ninety-nine percent of your time away from them?
“I do,” he said, but his voice was smaller.
I shook my head, trying to force the weird thoughts out of my mind.
“So, do you want to crash here tonight, or do you want me to help you to your room?”
“Honestly, the idea of moving again right now sets my teeth on edge,” he admitted, suddenly looking exhausted and pale.
“The couch works in a pinch. I’ve fallen asleep there more nights than I care to admit to,” I said, shrugging. “But you need a couple pillows. And maybe another blanket,” I told him, then scurried off to get him comfortable.
Pillows under his neck, more under his heavy cast.
I scooted the coffee table closer by his upper body so he could reach the acetaminophen, pain pills, water, and remote.
By the time I fed Samson and took him outside, Atlas was out cold.
Leaving me alone with my many thoughts until, eventually, I passed out too.
CHAPTER FIVE
Atlas
I wasn’t a good patient.
I’d been told that many times in my life.
My mom used to claim I would fake being well even when I was really sick because I was always in a hurry to get moving again, to explore the world that was our backyard or neighborhood.
Kingston and my other siblings practically had to tie me to my bed when I was injured and refused to just keep my ass still and heal.
The less I was capable of doing, the grumpier I got.
I’d been given a long-ass lecture from Kingston when AJ went into the kitchen to eat her dinner. About watching my tone, about being nice, about calling him or someone else in the family if I needed more help.
Without a doubt, he felt like crap about inconveniencing AJ. I did too. It wasn’t her fault I fell down a mountain and needed to come and disrupt her quiet little life.
Sure, she’d been a trooper about it. But a part of me thought it was simply because she was someone who never really put her foot down about things, who struggled with setting and keeping boundaries.
So, yeah, when I woke up and needed to get to the bathroom, I’d attempted to do that shit myself, since she was still out cold in her room. I’d sat and listened for ten minutes to make sure she wasn’t moving around before I reached for the chair, set the brake, pushed the coffee table out of the way, and tried to pull myself onto it.
Tried being the operative word here.
I managed to get myself off the couch and onto one foot, movement only made possible by the pain pills still working through my system.
But the second I tried to twist my body around to drop onto the chair, blinding fucking pain screamed through my side, enough to make me try to sit back down on the couch, but I misjudged the distance, and felt my stomach bottom out as I realized I was going to fall, and there was no fucking way to try to stop or brace myself thanks to a bum leg, shoulder, and braced fingers.
“Fuck,” I growled the second my ass met the hard ground, the impact sending another wave of pain through me as I knocked over the chair in the process, making it crash down onto the floor.
Distantly through the sound of my own ragged breathing, I heard the dog, Samson, barking at the disruption.
Then the sound of the bedroom door slamming against the wall as it was thrown open, and the slap of bare feet on the hardwood as AJ came running.
Looking over, I saw her rushing toward me.
Without any goddamn pants on, her shapely legs on display under the hem of her t-shirt. A t-shirt that was doing little to hide the bounce of her tits under the material as she ran toward me, her dark hair flying out behind her.
And, fuck, she was even prettier not all made up for the day. With pillow creases still on her face, her hair a little tangled. Her brown eyes all sleepy.
“Oh my God,” she cried, righting the chair, but only because it was in her way, then dropping down onto her knees next to me.
And I had a serious silent conversation with my body, begging it not to react to her. Especially when I was going to need her help getting off the damn floor.