Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 136048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
As for Izzy, she’ll probably be stuck in the hospital for a few weeks, and when she’s finally discharged, I’ll bring her back here. She’s far too stubborn and will insist on going home. She doesn’t believe that she needs anybody looking after her, but that shit isn’t going to fly with me, or with Knight, for that matter. Shit, and if she thinks I’m bossy, just wait until she tries to tell Knight no. Actually, I think that might just be the most entertaining thing I will ever see.
Knight takes my hand and leads me to our front door before pulling me right into his side. “You’re unusually quiet,” he murmurs as he fishes his keys out of his pocket and works on unlocking the door.
I let out a sigh. “I just don’t think I can manage another week of bed rest,” I tell him. “Not to mention, the morgue is going to be in chaos if I’m off for another week. We’re still trying to catch up after everything that happened with Dr. McKullan. I swear, the interns are going to start making up rumors that I can’t handle the pressure.”
“Fuck the interns,” he tells me, pushing the door open and ushering me inside. “Let them talk, and when you return next week, ride their asses so hard that they have no choice but to retract whatever bullshit they said about you.”
“Well, I was going to do that anyway.”
“Damn straight, you were.”
A lazy grin pulls across my face, but as I make my way deeper into our home, it quickly falls away at seeing the remains of what should have been an incredible night with my nieces. Bowls of stale popcorn for our movie night still linger on the kitchen counter. Izzy’s overnight bag is still hanging open, jam-packed with candy and a change of pajamas, just in case the girls suddenly thought that unicorns were lame, and of course, Haylee’s special stuffed sheep. She takes that thing everywhere, and now she’s having to spend the night without it. I’m going to have to express ship it to her, along with anything else I find around the house.
“Damn,” I whisper, pausing by the kitchen counter and taking it all in.
“They’re alright,” Knight tells me. “They’re so young and don’t really understand what they saw, so they’ll be okay.”
“Jonah is never going to let me get anywhere near them again.”
“Of course he will,” Knight tells me, pulling me into his strong arms and pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “He knows this wasn’t on you, and he knows just how far you went in order to keep them safe. If anything, Jonah is in the middle of handcrafting a fifty-foot statue of you to put up in his backyard. You risked your own life to protect his babies, and as a man, I am telling you, he is never going to forget that, nor will he take it lightly.”
I roll my eyes and pull a face. “You’re laying it on thicker than Ace trying to convince Izzy that he’s a muscular swooper.”
Knight laughs before taking my shoulders and spinning me around to face the hallway. “Go relax in the shower while I pour you a glass of wine.”
“You know alcohol and concussions are typically discouraged.”
“I’m aware, doll. But you and I both know that you’re going to end up drinking it anyway, so I might as well put myself to use while you chill in the shower.”
I grin, and as I make my way down the hall, I glance back over my shoulder. “Good point,” I tell him. “But don’t bother with just a glass. Bring me the whole bottle.”
After heading into the bathroom, I stand naked in front of the mirror, looking over the markings decorating my body. It’s not pretty. I’m covered in bruises from being whipped with a belt and cuts from where I was punched so hard my skin split. There are scratches from being dragged across the ground, and claw marks along my hips from fingernails. I have black eyes, swollen lips, and a puffy jaw.
My skin is blistered all over from the heat of the flames, and while I narrowly escaped receiving third-degree burns, my skin still isn’t out of the woods. I’ll be applying creams for weeks, maybe even months. Knight has a few burns and scratches of his own from the explosion, but being the stubborn alphahole that he is, he didn’t bother bringing it to anyone’s attention. But I’m not surprised. At this point in our relationship, I’ve come to expect it.
Not able to look at myself any longer, I lean into the shower before turning on the water and giving it a few moments to warm up. Before I can step into the spray, Knight strides into the bathroom with a bottle of wine in his hand and two glasses dangling from his other hand. We both know he only brought them along so that we can at least pretend to be civilized shower drinkers.