Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 73042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
I don’t want anyone to be in danger because of me.
Damn it!
Why? Why did I have to go and fall in love with—
No.
I’m not in love with him.
He’s a mobster. A gangster. And even though I know in his heart he’s a good man who only wants to bring his evil grandfather down, danger will follow him.
Which means danger will follow me.
Why do I need to have him over to my place for dinner? What is the purpose behind it, and who is that damned Uber driver?
How did they hack into my Uber request?
Chills erupt over my body. I look at my clock. It’s nine in the morning. My mother won’t bother me. She probably looked in the room a couple times throughout the night to make sure I’m all right. She doesn’t know that I’ve actually been up most of the night, my mind racing.
I draw a breath. Let it out slowly. Draw in another. I try to calm my shivers. Despite the fact that it’s a warm day in Texas—and warm in Texas means infernally hot—I’m still shivering.
I’ve got to get this under control before I go to the kitchen.
I take several more deep breaths. I try to focus on something good, something happy.
I’m alive! The leukemia didn’t kill me! At this point, it’s likely that I’m going to have a normal lifespan.
One more deep breath and then I rise.
I shower, rubbing the loofah over my head and over the rest of my body.
When I get out of the shower, I look in the mirror.
My hair is growing in enough that it’s difficult to see my scalp at this point. In several more weeks, I’ll have a cute pixie cut.
My cheeks are red from the heat of the shower, and I decide I look okay.
I get dressed quickly in some denim shorts and a tank top, no bra.
Everything else seems to be too much effort.
How am I going to get to my place tomorrow? How will I explain to Mom that I need to go there?
I grab my phone and put a call in to my doctor’s office.
“Lone Star Wellness,” the receptionist says.
“Yes, hi. Good morning.” I clear my throat to stop my voice from cracking. “This is Raven Bellamy. I’m a patient of Dr. Smith’s. I was wondering if he was available?”
“I believe he just finished with a patient. I may be able to catch him. Please hold for a moment.”
“Sure. Thank you.”
A moment later, “Raven? It’s Dr. Smith.”
“Yes, Doctor. I just wanted to check in with you and see if you could clear me for driving.”
“I think you’ve got another week to go.” He pauses a moment, probably checking my chart. “But let me ask you this. How are you feeling?”
“I’m feeling great. I’m eating well.”
“No fogginess? Dizziness?”
“Not at all. I was just wondering if maybe you could clear me to drive short distances? No longer than like fifteen minutes to half an hour behind the wheel?”
He pauses again. “You’ve responded very well to treatment. I suppose it’s all right. If you’re feeling okay.”
“Oh yes, Doctor. I’m feeling just fine. I just want to get back to normal, you know? It seems like it’s been so long.”
“I totally understand. Tell you what. I will clear you to drive, but I don’t want you behind the wheel for any longer than about twenty minutes. Is that all right?”
“That’s perfect. Thanks.”
“But you let me know if anything happens. And if at any time you do not feel comfortable behind the wheel, you pull over, you call for a ride. Is that clear?”
“Crystal. Don’t worry. I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize my recovery.”
“I know you won’t, Raven. You’ve been through hell, and it’s time for you to get back among the living. I totally understand. I’ve marked your chart.”
“Thank you so much, Dr. Smith. I promise everything will be fine.”
“I know it will be. Have a good day, Raven.”
I end the call, and I repeat the words I just said to Dr. Smith in my head.
I promise everything will be fine.
As far as my recovery goes? As far as driving goes?
My words are true. I feel it in the marrow of my bones.
Everything else, though?
That’s up in the air.
I head downstairs. Mom is still in the kitchen. “Raven, there you are. Breakfast?”
My stomach is a void, and I feel like if I eat anything I’ll throw it back up. Still, I need to think of my body. Of sustenance. What it needs.
“Just two scrambled eggs and toast please.”
Mom wrinkles her nose. “That’s exactly what you had for breakfast yesterday. Are you feeling all right?”
“Yeah, I feel fine. Just want something easy to digest. Thanks, Mom.”
“Coming right up.” She smiles. “You look good today, Raven.”
I stop my eyebrows—or lack thereof—from flying off my forehead. I look good? I feel…physically okay, I guess. I’m stressed as all hell.