Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 73311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“I’m okay,” I promised.
“You probably ripped the stitches,” Aaron murmured, taking hold of my elbows and guiding me in the direction of the bathroom that was closest to the living room. A bathroom he’d never seen before, but somehow instinctively knew was there.
My dad beat us there and pulled out the First Aid kit from the medicine cabinet, setting it down on the bathroom counter before sweeping all of Davis’ Legos on to the floor.
“Davis, come pick this shit up!” he yelled. “And if I step on a goddamn Lego this morning, there’ll be hell to pay!”
Davis came to pick up the Legos that Dad had swept to the floor, and I hopped up onto the counter to get out of his way, trying not to laugh at the haggard look that crossed over my nephew’s face.
“At least you didn’t have to live with him when you were growing up. Imagine how bad we had it,” I teased him.
Davis’ mouth twitched.
Wisely, he picked the Legos up while Dad started to remove things from the kit next to my thigh.
“Bathroom is too small. Your mother is so damn stubborn.”
I snorted.
My mom was stubborn.
Dad had offered my mother the house that they’d lived in when we were younger, but she’d refused. She hated people thinking that she was living off of my dad, even though my dad hadn’t been a doctor yet when they’d bought it.
“This place isn’t so bad, Dad,” I said carefully, knowing it was a sore subject with my parents.
Something that the two of them constantly fought about.
“If y’all didn’t live here, you wouldn’t be walking around with a chunk of meat missing out of your arm,” he pointed out.
Why did he have to be so logical and shit?
“If we didn’t live here, I wouldn’t have met Aaron again,” I told him.
“Pops said he came to your shop. So that argument isn’t valid,” Dad countered.
Aaron’s eyes shone with amusement.
I noticed he didn’t contradict my father, though.
“Whatever,” I muttered. “We like it here…it’s cozy.”
And close to Aaron.
“Uhh,” Clarabelle said from the doorway. “The dog is looking at us like we’re supposed to feed him or something. Do you have anything we can give him?”
“What are you having?” Aaron asked absently as he started to clean my wound.
“Eggs, sausage, pancakes, and biscuits,” she answered.
“He can have the sausage and eggs, but don’t give him any of the other stuff. I have a very strict diet of food that I’m allowed to give him. Or if you want, you could send Davis to my apartment to grab his bowl and food off the counter.”
My sister nodded her head and ducked out of the bathroom, but not after giving me glee-filled eyes.
She was happy for me.
I could tell just by that one look.
I winced as Aaron pulled on something while cleaning the wound. I hissed out a breath and turned my head away, burying my face into my father’s chest as I did it.
He lifted his arm and wrapped his big hand around my head, pulling me tightly into his chest.
“I thought you’d get shot while you were deployed when you were eighteen. I never entertained the thought that you’d be shot at home.” My father’s deep, rumbly voice cut into my thoughts.
“It won’t be happening again,” Aaron promised. “I have surveillance on her twenty-four-seven. Either me or one of the boys is on her until we’re sure this gang threat is gone.”
“Moving in with fucking gangs. Your mother really knows how to pick ‘em,” Dad muttered under his breath.
“I heard that!” Mom yelled from the kitchen. “And if you’d just say it already, I’d move back in with you, but no! Not Cooley!”
I could feel the curiosity practically rolling off of Aaron in waves.
“You’re wondering why,” Dad muttered.
I pulled my head away and stared at my arm, immediately wishing I hadn’t.
Aaron chose not to give in to his curiosity, fortunately for both him and me. Instead he was all business.
“Think you need a couple more stitches. If your dad has the stuff, either he or I can do it. But you need them done, so regardless of him having the supplies, you’re getting it done.”
I clamped my mouth shut.
I hated stitches.
Hated.
I’d had them eighteen times over the course of my life, though, so I should be used to them by now.
Hell, I’d just barely gotten the ones out that Davis’ asshole father had forced me to get thanks to his ‘accidental tripping’ scheme he’d pulled.
“I’ve got everything you’ll need right here,” Dad said, pulling out another box from the cabinet. “Imogen is an accident waiting to happen. She’s had stitches multiple times since she was born.”
Aaron barked out a laugh.
“I can see that,” he murmured as he picked up a piece of gauze and held it firmly to my wound.
“So tell me about this gang business. Do I need to take my girls home with me?” Dad got down to business as he started laying out supplies next to my hip.