Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 91434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
The kiss is almost tender until the bell on top of the door rings again, and I jump back from him. His hands fall to his sides, and I shake my head as the air hits my wet lips. I turn to storm out of the room. “You lost the privilege to do that ever again.”
Chapter Fourteen
BROCK
“You lost the privilege to do that ever again,” she snaps right before she storms out of my office. The sound of bells ringing as she leaves, my eyes go to the window to watch her walk to the bakery with her head down.
I clench my fist at my side, breathing in deeply, forcing myself not to do something stupid like chase her. Wanting nothing but to chase her, but knowing it would be a big mistake. For the past week, I’ve watched her walk past the shop with her head down, and even when I left late at night, she was still inside the bakery cleaning.
The number of times I wanted to go over there and see if she was okay was not normal. Especially since I knew I was the last person she wanted to see. “Hey.” Ryan pokes his head in the office. “You okay? I saw blood out there.”
“Yeah,” I confirm, tearing my eyes off the window and turning to look at Ryan. “Part slipped and fell on my finger, sliced it open. I’ll be fine.”
“Shit, okay.” He nods before turning and walking away. My head turns to the side as I watch her shadow move in the bakery. Anger creeps up in me as I hear her voice in my head again. “You lost the privilege to do that ever again.”
She couldn’t be more fucking right as I think back on the day I ruined everything.
“We’re going to get you help,” the paramedic said, and I shook my head ready to jump off the gurney.
“You need to get your ass back there and make sure Everleigh is okay,” I told him. If my arm wasn’t broken, I would have gripped the front of his shirt. “Forget about me, I’m fine.”
“We have the fire department getting her out,” he tried to reassure me, “but we need to get you to the hospital and check out the leg and your arm.”
“Fuck my leg,” I hissed at him as I heard Charlie yelling from the side of the truck, and I looked back when I saw a police officer coming my way.
“How many of you were in the truck?” he asked, and I looked at him, then over at the truck that was turned upside fucking down. One of the wheels looked like it flew off, and the other one was lying beside the truck. The back of the bed of it was slammed against a tree. “Just so we know.”
“We were four in the back and two in the front,” I answered him as they picked me up and put me in the ambulance. “Get my girl,” I pleaded with him as the doors were closed, and I roared out.
“I’m not going fucking anywhere without her,” I said, but I was powerless to them. My arm was dangling on the side, and my left pant leg was stuck to me from the blood that was seeping out.
I tried to grab my phone from my back pocket but had to give up halfway through when I about passed out from the pain.
When we got to the hospital, they were pushing me toward the swinging doors. Five people were all over me as I felt scissors move up my leg, cutting off my jeans.
“We have a laceration,” the doctor said, “on the left side, right to the bone.”
“His shoulder is also dislocated.” I looked up and saw the nurse doing something on top of me.
“We’re going to get an MRI and a CT scan,” the doctor explained. “Make sure everything is good inside,” he added before looking at me. “You’re one of the lucky ones,” he said before they all walked out of the room.
I lay on the bed, looking up at the ceiling when I heard someone walking in. I thought it was a nurse to tell me how Everleigh was doing, but instead it was Winston Cartwright.
“Hey, man,” he said as he looked over his shoulder and came to the side of the bed.
“Have you seen Everleigh?” I asked him, and he shook his head.
“No,” he whispered, “but listen, we have to talk to you.” I lay there, not able to do anything. “Do you know what happened?”
“Not really,” I admitted. “You know Waylon, he was on something about going out.”
“Yeah.” He pretended he was listening. “We are going to need you to help us out,” he said, and I should have told him to go fuck himself right then and there. I should have known I was making a deal with the devil. But when they had your whole life in their hands, they were the ones who held the strings, and I was just another puppet to them.