Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Her head rests against the cabinet behind her. Her color is still all wrong.
“Julia, where’s Yoko?” I ask when I realize I haven’t seen or heard him the entire time I’ve been in here.
“He took a little road trip with my grandma and grandpa in the trailer.”
“Okay, here’s the plan.” I tighten the towel with careful pressure. “I’m going to pick you up.”
“No,” she mutters. “Just the couch. I can—”
“You could.” I nod. “But I got a new couch over at my place. It’s practically ergonomic. NASA technology. Reclines. Heated. Sings lullabies.”
She blinks up at me, unconvinced.
But I ease one arm behind her back, the other under her knees, and lift her gently into my arms.
She doesn’t resist. She just rests her head on my shoulder like it’s instinct.
I grab her phone and purse from the counter, and I hook it over my shoulder like it’s mine and carry her to the door.
She starts to stir again as I press the elevator button.
Her brow furrows. “Where are we going?”
I don’t answer right away.
I glance down. Blood’s already soaking through the towel again. Not pouring, but enough.
She follows my gaze. Sees the red.
Her breath catches. “Oh God—”
And then she’s out cold again.
Shit.
St. Luke’s Hospital ER wasn’t busy, and they got Julia back and into a room in no time at all.
Now, she has six stitches in her hand, and I’m pretty sure I have permanent nerve damage in mine from how hard she gripped it during the procedure.
She passed out twice—once in the elevator and again when the nurse unwrapped her hand. Then she damn near bit a chunk out of my arm when they numbed the area. Not on purpose, of course. Julia’s never been great with blood. Even worse with her own.
Thankfully, before the doctor started stitching, they gave her something to calm her nerves—something mild, but it hit her hard.
Now she’s curled up on the tiny ER hospital bed, high as a kite and still cute as hell. Her hair’s a mess, her eyes are heavy lidded, but she’s smiling at me like none of this ever happened. Like we haven’t been strangers for nearly two months.
“You’re really nice,” she says, slurring slightly. “You’re always so nice to me. Even when I’m…you know. A blood fountain.”
My throat tightens.
“You’ve always been a drama queen,” I say quietly, brushing a piece of hair away from her face.
“You love it.”
I love you.
She shifts a little, squinting at me like I’m hard to place. “You smell good. Like, unfairly good. What is that?”
“Uh…soap? I don’t know. You asked me that once in high school too.” I laugh. It’s forced and my chest aches, because even though she’s talking to me in the way Julia always used to talk to me, she’s high. She’s numbed. She’s not fully aware.
She giggles. “Did I?”
I nod. “Right before prom. You told me I smelled like confidence and bad decisions.” Simpler times. You know, when you were still my girl.
She lets out a sleepy laugh and reaches out like she’s going to grab my hand but ends up swiping at the air. “I like that. I like you. You’re warm. Stay here.”
Fuck. I wish I could. I wish I could stay here forever if it meant getting her back. The real her. The version that used to crawl into my bed when she had nightmares and fall asleep with her mouth open and her foot shoved under my thigh.
I sit beside the bed and take her hand carefully—her unstitched one—and she immediately curls her fingers around mine. Like muscle memory.
“I miss you,” I whisper.
She doesn’t answer. She’s staring at the ceiling, smiling lazily. “Can I have my phone?”
I hesitate for a second but pass it to her from where I set it down in the little bin by the bed. “I already texted your mom. She’s on her way.”
“Thanks,” she says, unlocking the screen and scrolling. I see her typing something but don’t think much of it. Probably her sister or something. Maybe she’s ordering pizza. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me.
She sets the phone down and leans her head toward me again. “Hey. Can you kiss my forehead? Just once?”
God. She’s going to ruin me.
But I can’t deny her request. I want to do it as much as she wants me to do it or more. I lean down and press my mouth to her skin, and I let my lips linger for no less than ten seconds.
She sighs like that’s all she needed in the world. “Perfect,” she says.
“Yeah,” I say hoarsely. “Perfect.”
The curtain rustles, and Julia’s mom bursts into the room. Georgia’s voice is half panicked and half relieved as she moves toward where Julia is lying in the bed. “Julia, oh my God. Are you okay?”
“I’m a hemorrhage,” Julia announces proudly. “But Ace fixed it.”