Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“You’re still on the lemon thing?” she asks with a laugh.
The light for pedestrians turns green and I take a step off the curb along with a guy to my left. I chastise Jules as I step into the street. “Don’t make fun of my cravings.”
“I wouldn’t dare dream of it,” she says with a laugh.
I start to laugh too, but then I notice from my peripheral vision the guy to my left jumps backward to the curb. My head starts to swing that way and I see the car too late. It’s already bearing down on me, and the last thing I remember is the man reaching toward me and yelling, “Get back.”
—
A beeping sound penetrates and I groan, wanting it to go away. I’m so tired and sleep is so lovely. But then I hear voices and I struggle to open my eyes.
The minute I see a nurse adjusting an IV bag near me, it all comes back.
Me stepping into the street.
The car coming.
A man yelling at me.
And then I was in an ambulance. I remember that, and fuck, my left wrist is throbbing, but I remember it hurting worse.
And my head…
I lift a hand up and gingerly touch the bandage starting near the top of my forehead and extending into my hair.
“You okay on the pain?” the nurse asks me, and I nod.
“I’m pregnant,” I mumble, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth.
“We know,” she says with a smile. “You told us several times.”
I nod again, because I think I remember that. “Is the baby…”
“The baby appears to be fine. Strong heartbeat.”
“Thank God.” I exhale with relief.
“Do you remember why you’re here?” the nurse asks as she leans over my bed and places a Styrofoam cup with a straw to my mouth. I take a grateful sip of cold water.
“Car was coming, and someone pulled me back, but something hit my arm. And then I hit my head somehow,” I rasp out, then take another sip of water.
“That man probably saved your life,” the nurse tells me. “The car’s side-view mirror hit your wrist and it’s fractured, and you got thrown into the light pole and hit your head.”
I nod again and grimace. “I remember getting a CT scan. And the doctor setting my wrist. It’s coming back.”
“You’re a little groggy,” she says with a smile, and places the cup in my hand. “We’ve got you on some morphine for the pain.”
“And that’s okay with the baby?” I ask.
“It’s fine,” she says. “You’re only getting a small amount and we’ll give you a safe pain medication to take home. You’re really lucky. The break was clean and you’ve just got a minor concussion. They’re going to admit you once a bed opens up and keep you overnight, just for observation.”
“Okay,” I whisper, my eyes starting to feel heavy again.
Then they pop back open when I hear Jules’s voice. “I’m looking for Stephanie Frazier.”
“She’s in there,” an unknown voice says, and then Jules is rushing into my room and goes pale when she sees me lying in the bed. She looks at the cast on my left wrist and the bandage on my head, and tears well up in her eyes.
“I’m fine,” I say with a smile, and then wave her closer to me. She comes to the bed and takes my hand in hers. “How did you even know I was here?”
“We were on the phone and I heard screeching tires and yelling before the call disconnected. I kept trying to call you back and got no answer, but then about five minutes later, some guy calls me and told me you’d been hit by a car.”
“Must have been the guy that pulled me back,” I muse. “Guess my phone’s okay.”
“He dialed the last number, as he’d seen you were on the phone,” she says. “I had to wait to get a baby-sitter then I got here as soon as I could.”
“You shouldn’t have come,” I scold her gently as I shift up in the bed a little, wincing because my head really hurts when I move. “They’re going to admit me and I should get out tomorrow.”
Jules bites her lip and then asks fearfully, “The baby?”
“Fine,” I say as I squeeze her hand.
“Oh, thank God,” she practically wheezes. “I was not looking forward to calling Lucas with this news.”
“Don’t call him,” I blurt out, and then shoot a look to the nurse, who is typing into a computer by my bed, but she doesn’t seem to be listening. “I’m fine. The baby’s fine. He’s on his way to New Jersey for a play-off game, so let’s not stress him out about this.”
“He’d kill me if I didn’t tell him,” Jules says with a pointed look at me. “He has a right to know.”
“No, he doesn’t,” I tell her with an empathetic but firm voice. “Sure…if the baby was at risk, I could see it. But it’s just me with a broken wrist and a few staples in my head. He absolutely doesn’t have a right to know about that.”