Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 182075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
What the fuck was going on?
“Fuck, call an ambulance,” Slade roared.
“Give her to me,” Rock commanded, his broken voice rising louder.
But Quaid couldn’t let her go. Even when the ambulance arrived and they put her on a stretcher, he kept hold of her hand.
He ignored the ambulance officers as they told him that they had her, that he might want to go change his clothes, that he could leave her.
In the end, Slade paved the way for him to get into the ambulance with her.
He couldn’t leave her.
Never again.
58
Rock was torn.
He couldn’t leave his girl. She was lying in the hospital bed, pale and ill.
Preeclampsia the doctor had said.
It could be deadly.
To the baby and to her.
Rock cared about the baby, of course. But in a choice of Indie or the baby, it would be Indie.
However, he knew she wouldn’t feel that way.
But that wasn’t the reason he was torn. The doctor thought that they could get her through this with the right amount of rest and care.
And she would get both. He would see to that.
Nope, the reason he was torn was because part of him wanted to stay right here with his girl. The other part wanted to hunt that motherfucker St. Clare down and tear him limb from limb.
This was his fault.
He’d started this by scaring Indie. Margo had said she’d frozen when he’d touched her and it had taken a bit to get her out of that state of fear.
Logically, he knew that St. Clare hadn’t actually given her preeclampsia. But the stress St. Clare had put her under had made things worse.
And then there was Quaid.
Rock turned his glare on the other guy. One of his best friends.
For. Now.
“I know you want to kill me, Rock,” Quaid said, turning to look at him. He was sitting on one side of her bed, holding her hand. Spencer was on the other side, researching preeclampsia and what they should do for their girl.
Rock should be doing that as well. But right now he was just too fucking mad.
Slade was the only one out of the room. He was making some calls to get a private nurse for when Indie came home.
The time for messing around was over.
They wanted a nurse who specialized in looking after women with preeclampsia. But who could also keep their mouth shut about their relationship.
Not that he cared who knew. But Indie might care. And he didn’t want her suffering any more stress.
Ever.
Rock cracked his knuckles. Of course, if the nurse talked, he’d make sure she or he lived a long, miserable life.
“But I never meant . . . I never thought . . .” Quaid dropped his head as Slade re-entered the room.
Rock had never seen his friend this defeated. He’d looked almost broken earlier when Indie had said she was going to leave.
And Rock wasn’t sure if he was aware of the tear that had dripped down his cheek.
It was the only reason that Rock wasn’t tearing into him. Or forcing him from the room. Because Quaid never broke.
Not for anyone.
But he had for their girl.
“I’ve found someone,” Slade said. “She can start as soon as Indie is allowed to go home. She’s in the lifestyle, which works for us. But, more importantly, she comes with excellent credentials. And she and her husband are looking for accommodation.”
“The Milford apartment just came up for sale,” Spencer said.
“Yep. I’ve messaged Hamish and told him to purchase it for us,” Slade said.
All right. Good. They could take it in shifts to watch her whenever the nurse had to go home to sleep.
“It’s good you found someone,” Spencer said. “I’m worried about her.”
“The doctor is too,” Slade said. They were now in a private hospital that was focused on maternity, gynaecology and pediatrics. Her new doctor specialized in high-risk maternity patients. “I had another talk with her. Indie is still a bit underweight despite our best efforts and the baby is small.”
Her morning sickness had eased up, so Rock had been hopeful that she would start putting on more weight. Her stomach had grown rounder, but her cheek bones were still too pronounced. So delicate.
“Stress,” he muttered.
“Part of it, I think,” Slade agreed. He looked awful. Rock guessed they all did. But Slade always seemed to take everything on his shoulders. He seemed to think he was responsible for all of them. And for anything that went wrong.
“So we eliminate as much stress as possible,” Spencer said.
They all turned to look at Quaid.
“I’m not going to stress her out anymore,” Quaid said. “I feel like I’m splintering apart. Fucking lost. But I know I need her. I’ll do . . . I’ll do whatever I have to in order to be worthy of her. I fucked up so bad. Twice.”
Slade sighed and walked over to him, patting his back. “That’s what you don’t get, man. You already are worthy of her. And Indie has so much love to give, she’ll forgive you.”