Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
I still had their family member’s blood on me, even if you couldn’t see it thanks to the dark color of my scrubs.
I walked over to Finnian, my eyes solely glued on him, and stopped directly in front of him. “Come on.”
He glanced up. “What?”
“Come on,” I repeated. “We’re leaving.”
He didn’t fight me, only stood up and caught hold of my hand.
I made eye contact with Webber on my way out, and he nodded his head in thanks.
I didn’t say goodbye to anyone else.
I walked out with the man on my arm and headed for my truck.
He didn’t complain about the way my seats sagged, and I had a five-gallon jug wedged between the front seats and the back, holding both seats up enough so they didn’t fall all the way back.
A new car was definitely on the agenda…I only had to pay off about eight hundred thousand dollars in lawyer fees first.
I didn’t ask him where to take him.
This time, he came to my place and not his.
He didn’t say a word about the gangbangers that were perched on their porch steps throughout the neighborhood.
He didn’t complain when I had to park eight blocks away from my apartment building.
And he didn’t complain that we had to walk through several homeless individuals, either.
I imagined that once he was back in the right state of mind, he would be pissed at the conditions I was living—most men were when they found out where I lived. Hell, even Eugene had been offended and had offered to ‘allow me to live with them until I could get back on my feet.’
I’d said no, of course.
I also had a feeling that his offer came more from a “I can’t have my fiancée’s sister living in a hellhole. What would people think about me allowing that?”
He hadn’t been concerned for me, to be honest.
He had been concerned with his reputation.
That reminded me that I needed to respond to her text messages soon, or she’d be coming over, and I didn’t want that.
Honestly, if she could just leave me the fuck alone for a while, I’d be happy.
I let us into my apartment, and only once we were inside with the doors locked did I let go of his hand.
“The bathroom’s in there. Go use it. Shower. Then you can crawl into my bed.”
He didn’t argue, which worried me even more.
He hadn’t said a word since I’d told him what had happened.
The poor man.
This was likely killing him and bringing up quite a few memories of the loss of his son.
Once he’d let himself into my bathroom—having stripped all his clothes off but his underwear as he went—I made us a couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
I was on my second one when he came out of the bathroom.
I placed two sandwiches in his hand and said, “Eat this,” as I moved into the bathroom.
I took the world’s fastest shower, threw my clothes in the hamper to get cleaned tomorrow, and exited the bathroom.
I found him in my bed, under the covers, on his belly.
His face was twisted to the side, so I couldn’t tell if he was awake or not.
I climbed in beside him anyway, and scooted close until I was pressed against the length of him.
This wasn’t sexual.
This was plain, old comfort as I wrapped myself around him and held on.
I fell asleep like that, clinging to him as I tried and failed to keep his pieces from breaking apart for a second time.
Twelve
Don’t come around me if your dokies aren’t okie.
—Apollo to Copper
APOLLO
I was asleep and in the best place I’d ever slept before in my life, when I was jolted awake by a banging on the front door.
Irrational anger surged through me at the interruption. Followed right on the heels of my anger was a wave of sadness that felt like it nearly overwhelmed me.
My breathing hitched, and my eyes squeezed shut as I tried to block out what had happened yesterday.
We’d only been asleep for a total of two hours at that point, and as I looked at the clock on the bedside table, it made me even more angry because whomever was on the other side of the door knew they were waking us up.
Six in the morning was an insane time to visit.
I got up and took in the sleeping woman who hadn’t woken despite the banging on the door.
Fuck, she was a heavy sleeper.
Which scared the piss out of me because if she was this heavy of a sleeper—and could sleep through literal pounding—that wasn’t safe.
The building could be on fire and someone could be pounding at her door to wake her up, and she’d sleep through it.
Deciding that was an issue for later, though, I headed for the front door and glanced through the peephole.
I spotted her sister on the other side, and I nearly groaned.