Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
There was that worry again—that fucking concern. My skin was going to crawl off my fucking body at this rate.
But if I voiced my issue with that, I’d seem insane. And I didn’t have the time nor the energy to deal with the disaster of voicing my thoughts out loud.
“Kay,” I whispered.
He leaned over and kissed me, his lips soft and gentle against mine. He gently squeezed my hand and then leaned back in his seat. I pushed open his car door and got up, walking up the porch steps. John was waiting in the living room for me. “Your plate is in the microwave if you’re hungry.”
Truth was, I wasn’t sure if I could stomach anything. The moment I’d stepped inside, I’d gotten a bad feeling in my stomach. And judging by the look on John’s face, I had an inkling that he was the reason for that bad gut feeling.
“What is it?” I asked him tiredly.
He set his fork down and picked up his beer. I watched as he swallowed a mouthful before setting it back down. Finally, he brought his eyes up to me. “You want to talk to me about what’s going on with you and Blaze? I thought you and Jonah were trying to work something out.”
I heaved a tired, exhausted sigh. “John, I don’t even know what’s going on anymore,” I muttered. “And to be real with you, I don’t know how to deal with it—I don’t want to deal with it. My brain can’t fucking handle it.”
He frowned at me. “Do they know about each other?”
I shrugged. “Maybe? I know Blaze knows. I don’t know if Jonah does.” I looked down at him, smacking my hands against my thighs. “Do we have to deal with this right now?” I asked him. “I want a shower and to go to bed.”
He ran his eyes over me before he nodded. “Yeah.” I turned on my heel to walk off to my room, but he called my name, halting me. I looked over my shoulder at him. “Just be careful, yeah? Jonah is my best friend. Blaze is slowly earning my respect despite what he did to you. But you’re my sister, Montana—my family. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
I smiled wryly at him, pain flitting through my eyes. “I’ve been hurting for years, John,” I whispered.
He frowned and clenched his hand around the neck of his bottle. “I know,” he rasped.
* * *
John
I was almost asleep on the couch when a loud thud and things falling in Montana’s bathroom jerked me back awake. I cursed and shot up to my feet, knocking over my half-drank beer when I knocked into the coffee table. But I didn’t give a fuck.
“Montana?!” I shouted, rushing down the hall to her room. She didn’t shout back.
I shoved her bathroom door open. The water was spraying all over the floor, and the shower curtain was ripped, clenched in Montana’s fist. She was passed out and naked on the bathroom floor, hair and body products piled on her.
“Fuck!” I shouted. I quickly pulled my phone out and called 9-1-1 as I turned the water off and grabbed a towel to wrap her in.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
“My sister just passed out in the shower. She’s unresponsive, but she’s breathing. She might have hit her head when she fell.”
“Address?”
I quickly rattled off my address. After being assured help was on the way, I tossed my phone aside and hefted Montana out of the bottom of the tub, wrapping her up in a towel before carrying her to her bed. By the time paramedics showed up, she still wasn’t conscious, and she had a lump forming on the back of her head.
I called Jonah after the paramedics loaded her in the back of the ambulance. “Yeah?” he asked when he answered.
I grabbed a bag and rushed back to Montana’s room to grab her some clothes. “Montana is being rushed to the hospital,” I informed him. “I’m guessing she passed out, which made her fall and hit her head pretty fucking badly.”
“Fuck,” he swore. “I’m on my way.”
He hung up, and I called Blaze as I zipped the bag up. He’d become a part of this, and he deserved to know. This would also be a chance for him to show if he really gave a damn, or if he was just playing games with her.
“What did she do this time?” he asked as soon as he answered.
“Passed out again,” I told him. He muttered a curse. “She’s on her way to the hospital. I’m grabbing her some clothes.”
“You let her drive?!” he shouted at me.
“No, you fucking dimwit!” I barked. “I fucking called 9-1-1. She’s goddamn unconscious, asshole.”
“Fuck!” he barked. “I’m on my way. Meet you there.”
He hung up as I rushed out the front door.