Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
I try scooting over and cringe. I can do this. I am not weak.
The very tips of my fingers curl around the edge of the sketchpad and just as I start drawing it closer to get a better grip on it, Slade comes striding through the door, pushing a wheelchair. He stops and stares with his mouth hanging open. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Stop moving.”
“It’s too far away,” I say through my teeth, refusing to give up. After all, I got this far, why give up now?
“You’re an idiot,” he scolds, striding forward and grabbing the sketchpad. He puts it up on the shelf but before I can lay his ass out, he steps up to the edge of the bed and reaches for me. “What are you doing?” I screech, panicking about the thought of being moved.
“The nurses are probably going to kill me for this but you need to get out of this room for a bit.”
Damn, I’ve never heard sweeter words.
“You’ll be careful, right?”
He stares down at me as though I’ve completely lost my mind. “Do you not know me at all?”
“What can I say?” I grumble. “You’re not known for being gentle when it comes to me. I’m pretty sure I had a concussion after the first time you slammed me into a wall.”
“Bullshit,” he says, slipping his arms under my legs as I curl mine tightly around his neck. I clenched my eyes in preparation for the inevitable pain, now squinting through narrowed slits. “I’ve never slammed you against a wall that hard, and the times I have, you’ve loved it. Don’t act as though I can’t see the fire in your eyes every time I keep you pinned like that. It gets you all hot and bothered.”
I grin. He’s not wrong.
Slade lifts and glances down at me. “Knock it off,” he grumbles, seeing the terrified look on my face. “You’re fine but unless you’d like me to carry you with one hand, then you need to grab your drip thingy.”
My eyes bug out. Technically, he’s right. He hasn’t hurt me yet, but stretching across him to grab the drip is opening my ribs up to all sorts of pain. I’m no quitter though, we’ve come this far.
Sucking it up, I reach over, taking short, quick breaths and realize that I was completely over-thinking it…again. I’m absolutely fine, or maybe it’s the flow of morphine steadily running through my veins.
Slade makes his way across the room as I wheel the drip along. He uses his foot to readjust the wheelchair and before he can put me down, I brush my lips over his. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet, babe. I haven’t gotten you out of here yet. There’s still a chance this could all go south.”
“I know,” I laugh. “But it’s kinda exciting, don’t you think?”
“Oh, yeah,” he says sarcastically. “I’m such a bad, bad boy.”
I roll my eyes as he starts lowering me to the wheelchair, being careful not to jostle me as he places me down. My ribs scream in protest and I suck in a breath. “What's wrong?” he demands, looking over me with wide eyes.
“My ribs,” I say, trying not to cringe. “They’re hurting.”
“Shit, okay. Um…” he glances around the room before grabbing the pillow off my bed and pressing it across my chest. “Here, try this. You can lean into it. It should help relieve some of the pressure.”
It works instantly and I feel as though I can finally breathe. I glance up at him to see him watching me closer, waiting to hear what I think. “How’d you know that was going to work?”
He points toward my chest. “This isn’t the first cracked rib I’ve ever dealt with,” he says with a secretive grin. “This might surprise you but I’ve had a few of my own over the years.”
“Yeah, that really doesn’t surprise me,” I grumble as he steps around me and takes the handles of the wheelchair.
Slade pushes me toward the door and stops to peer out before looking back at me. “You ready for this? The coast is clear.”
“You already got me in the chair, we might as well see it through.”
He grins, loving any chance he gets to break the rules. He pushes me out into the corridor and I hold my hands out. “Stop,” I whisper-yell, looking back up at him. “It’s cold out here. I need a jacket.”
Slade nods and runs.
I sit in the corridor feeling like a complete loner as I stare at the nurses’ station ahead. It’s empty, but knowing that a nurse could appear at any time has my heart racing with nerves. It’s not as though I’m going to get in trouble. If anything, they’ll just put me in bed and send Slade home for the night with a scathing look, but the thought of getting out, if only for a few minutes, is too good to pass up.