Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I angle my head around and give her a thumbs up while trying to keep my body facing the other direction. It’s not easy. I feel like a bit of an owl, except without the crazy range of motion they have with their necks. “You’re not rude. I’m just heading out to get back to work because things are more than piling up. Are you okay? How are your treatments?”
“I’ve just had one so far, but it was okay. Scary as heck for the first five minutes, but not nearly as bad as I thought it would be. I’ll keep you updated, but you can be sure I’m going to kick this shit’s ass.”
Everleigh does an owl trick of her own and turns her head so Heather can’t see the worry and pain on her face. It’s devastating for her that her little sister is sick. She feels helpless, I can tell. She’s the one who made the treatments possible, but she can’t do more than that. She can’t go inside her sister’s body and heal her or take her place. I make a note to pay whoever it takes to look into Heather’s treatment plan to make sure she really is getting the best of everything. Maybe there are other options or medications that she hasn’t been offered to combat the side effects. Anyway, I plan on finding out. I know good doctors and medical staff, thanks to my fucked up arm. They’re not in the same state, but they probably know people who know people who know people, and I’ll have answers soon.
“Thank you,” Everleigh mouths to me while blinking back tears. Louder now, so her sister can hear her this time, she says, “I’m sorry about the noise. I really didn’t mean to disturb you.” Then, she gets a saucy expression on her face that warns me some major sass is coming my way. “I’m surprised you didn’t send Hans up to spank me.”
“Who’s Hans?” Heather asks.
“His bodyguard,” Everleigh responds.
“My assistant,” I correct.
“His badass enforcer,” Eveleigh insists. “The guy who drugged me.”
Argh! “That was unfortunate!” I protest. “We’re all past that now.”
“Well, he did save you from drowning,” she cedes, handing me the point. Not that we’re keeping score. I hope.
“I see he’s good at multitasking, obviously.” Heather sighs in a way that I’ve learned her sister sometimes does when she’s gearing up to say something totally inappropriate. “He didn’t send Hans. He came up to spank you himself.”
Everleigh’s eyes go wide with surprise. “Heather!” She races over to the dresser and picks up the tablet, hiding her sister from me. She flops onto the bed, giggling to herself despite her reprimand.
“You started it,” Heather insists. “You were the one who brought up spanking.”
“Not that kind of spanking. Our relationship is purely platonic. You know that.”
I know that, and Everleigh no doubt knows it. But it doesn’t change the fact that my dick still won’t obey or that I have a funny feeling in my chest like I’ve drunk an entire bottle of champagne, and I’m all bubbly on the inside. I don’t drink champagne, for the record. I find it sickly sweet. I don’t drink much of anything, actually, besides water. I guess I’m boring that way. When it comes to the good old H2O, though, I’m a bit of a snob.
I try to make a fast retreat out the door on that note, but Heather stops me in my tracks. “Everleigh wants to come and visit us next week. She gets to take your fancy jet, she says. I’m wicked jealous. You should come too!”
“Oh, I…I would have to think about it.”
“That would be complicated,” Everleigh says at the same time.
We both look at each other. Is her house within walking distance of anything? Probably not. I could always do what she suggested and invest in a good bicycle. God, I really need to get over this thing. I need to sit in her red convertible for five minutes a day and increase it to ten and then eventually work at driving around the driveway before, heaven forbid, driving around the block or something.
I could do it. I could go because I could have Hans give me the nerve pills that are so powerful that they knock me right the heck on my ass. They’re prescription, and I hate them. I hate everything about them. I hate that I probably becoming a drooling, out-of-my-mind zombie, and someone else has to look after me because I can’t do it myself. I hate that I can’t get over this shit in my head, and they’re necessary if I don’t want to fly out of my skin whenever a vehicle is unavoidable. Breaking my brain like that was so much worse than what happened to my arm.
“I know it would be complicated and weird,” Heather goes on. She has no filter, kind of like Everleigh. I would say hers is a much lighter version of Heather’s, though. “But I want to meet him.”