Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 49416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
“I just need him to be okay,” I say.
“Zoe!” Luna says my name an hour later, finding me in the waiting room, instantly enveloping me in a hug that Anne and Lyla soon complete. I cling to my friends, explaining what happened through tear-soaked words.
Caleb introduces himself to my friends because I can't think straight, and I'm about to apologize for that when two police officers come into the waiting room and call my name questioningly.
“Yes?” I head over to where they gesture, and Caleb follows me in a silent show of support as I wave my girls off.
“We need to take your statement on what occurred at the hotel,” the first officer says.
I nod and take a deep breath, doing my best to relay the story in its entirety, including the reason my father hired Owen, and everything that led up to this moment. Caleb corroborates the story, going as far to show him his and Owen’s licenses.
By the time I'm done, my father has shown up, relieved to see me in one piece. He shakes Caleb’s hand, then has his own words with the police officers who assure him that once Spencer is awake, he'll be read his rights and arrested.
I’m too numb to process the relief that should accompany that statement.
The next few hours are spent counting heartbeats and breaths, waiting with the support of my friends and my father, the family that keeps reminding me to drink water and to stop clenching my jaw so damn tight.
Another few hours, and I finally convince my friends to go home. Even my father relented and left, but Caleb remains at my side. Understandably, since he’s known Owen longer than I have.
“Dr. Casson?” A doctor comes into the waiting room, and I'm up in seconds, Caleb right behind me. “We were able to get the bullet out and stop the bleeding. Thankfully it missed any major arteries, but he lost a significant amount of blood, and his right arm is going to be sore for the next few weeks, but he will heal.”
I swear my knees almost buckle. If Caleb hadn’t steadied me, I would’ve fallen to the floor.
“Thank you,” I say through my tears. “Thank you.”
“He's asking for you,” he says. “I can show you back.”
I glance at Caleb, a pang of guilt hitting me that he's asking for me but he just waves me off.
I follow the doctor through the hallways and into a sterile, cold room.
Owen is half propped up in a hospital bed, his right arm in a sling and his skin looking too pale for comfort.
“There you are, Kitten,” he says, his voice softer than his usual growl, and it makes me whimper as I hurry over to his bedside, the doctor closing the door as he leaves.
I pause with my hands outstretched toward him, not wanting to hurt him—
He pulls me into a side hug with his good arm, and I sob against his chest. “I thought I lost you,” I say.
Owen turns and kisses my forehead. “You can't get rid of me that easily,” he says.
“I'm so sorry,” I say, looking at him, guilt clinging to every single inch of my body.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he says.
“But I do,” I counter. “It's my fault. You're in here because of me.”
“I'm in here because a violent person wanted to hurt you. I’d make the same move every single time, Zoe,” he continues. “Without a second thought. I'm exactly where I'm meant to be. Which is between you and danger.
More tears roll down my cheeks. “I love you,” I release the words I've kept locked up too tight for the silly fear of it being too fast.
I almost lost him tonight. How could I be so ridiculous to not tell him how I really feel?
“I love you, Owen,” I say again.
Owen pulls me closer with his good arm, his lips pressing against mine. “I love you, too, Kitten,” he says. “I'm sorry you had to see that.”
“You couldn't control it.”
“I just wish I would’ve spotted him sooner and spared you all this.”
“Spared me? You're the one with a bullet wound.”
Owen shrugs, then winces. “Nothing I haven't dealt with before,” he says.
I shake my head, wondering how the hell he’s managing to stay so calm.
A knock sounds on the door before Caleb pops his head in. “Is it safe to come in and assess the damage yet?”
A soft laugh tears from my lips as Owen grumbles and rolls his eyes. “Come on in,” he says.
Caleb walks into the room, concern lining his features before he shoves that away and looks at Owens skeptically. “You look salty as ever,” he says, sliding his hands into his pockets. “You're sure you didn't do all this for attention?”
Owen flips him off with his good hand, and then they share some sort of silent communication that’s way more serious than the jokes Caleb cracks. They nod at each other, and I wonder what kind of experiences they've shared in order to reach that level of communication.