Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 20993 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 105(@200wpm)___ 84(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20993 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 105(@200wpm)___ 84(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
He starts typing into his. "I'm going to text Walker. He'll have someone pack up my things and come and pick us up and take us home." He looks up from his typing. "Where's your car? Do I need to get somebody to bring it somewhere?"
I shake my head. "No, I was a mess when I got the call. I had Becca and her new boyfriend bring me here."
I open my messaging app to text Becca, but I see a text from her. She sent me a picture of Nash and me in the hospital bed, and I can’t look away. We look cozy and dare I say happy. I read the message. “You looked all right and Walker said Nash was going to be fine now. I left, but call me when you want to come home and I’ll come get you. Love you.”
I text her back. “He’s getting out today. He’s staying at my house and we have a ride. I’ll explain later. Thank you and Lucas again for bringing me here. Love you.”
I put my phone down and watch as Nash pushes the button on the phone to send the text and then lays it down in his lap. "I'm sorry for everything that I've put you through, Emery."
I lift my shoulder and shrug. "It's not your fault that you were shot."
"I don't mean this. I mean everything. There's so many things I need to apologize to you for. There's so many things I need to make up to you."
I lean my head down on his shoulder because the look he's giving me is way too intense. Part of me knows that I need to keep my guard up or else I'm going to be hurt again. "It's fine, Nash. I know you never meant to hurt me. All that matters now is that you're going to be okay."
He puts his lips to my forehead and kisses me there. When he pulls back, his voice is just a whisper. "We are going to be okay."
My heart flipflops in my chest. I wish that was the truth.
Chapter 9
Nash
I'm lying back in the recliner and trying not to eavesdrop on Emery and her girlfriends in the kitchen.
Walker picked up Emery and me from the hospital and helped us get settled at the house. Emery's been going crazy around here trying to get everything situated, and she won't let me help at all. I hear a burst of laughter from the kitchen, and then all of a sudden it stops, and Emery pokes her head out, looking at me. "Are you okay? Do you need anything? I'm warming up the chocolate croissants that you like."
It's on the tip of my tongue to ask her to come and sit with me, but I know there'll be plenty of time for that later. Tara, April, and Becca are her best friends, and I know that with everything going on, she needs them right now, so I'm not going to ruin that. "No, honey, I'm good. Take your time. I'll stay right here. I promise."
Her eyes widen, but she nods her head and disappears back into the kitchen. I know she's confused by my behavior. I've never been one to do what I've been told to do, so my actions are probably a surprise for her. She probably expected to look out here and find me gone or something.
A few minutes go by, and Emery and her friends all come out of the kitchen. Emery brings me the chocolate croissants and sits down on the couch. She's too far from me, but I'm not going to say anything about it now. I hold my plate up to the women. “Thank you for this!”
Becca responds first. “We know they’re your favorite.”
And then Becca chimes in. “Yeah, you all let us know if you need anything. One of us can bring whatever you need.”
I nod and so does Emery. Tara hangs back and walks up to my chair, holding her fist out to me. I raise my hand and fist-bump her, and she smiles brightly. "I was rooting for you this whole time." She looks toward Emery and then back at me. "Don't fuck it up."
I laugh. "I won't," I promise her.
She nods, and then the three ladies walk out. As soon as the door closes behind them, I'm pushing the lever down on the chair to put my feet down.
Emery jumps up. "What is it? What do you need?"
But I continue standing up, holding the plate of croissants. I walk over toward the couch. "I just want to sit next to you."
She looks at the recliner and back to me. "But you love that recliner. That was always YOUR seat."
I sit down next to her, so close that our legs are touching, and I shrug and hold the plate of croissants up to her. "I'd rather be closer to you. Do you want one?"