Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77999 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77999 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Okay. Okay. I’ve got it.” I glanced down at my desk as I told him, “I have a few things to tie up here, but I should be able to be there for afternoon visiting hours.”
“Perfect. He’s at Cain Creek. It’s one street over from the main hospital.” He started for the door but quickly stopped and turned to face me. “One more thing. You might not wanna tell him that I came here today. I’m not saying you can’t. You do what you gotta do, but this whole thing will work better if he thinks it was your idea.”
“Understood.”
He thanked me, said goodbye, and was on his way.
I kept my promise and arrived well before visiting hours were over, but Wes wasn’t exactly happy to see me. In fact, he was furious that I’d come, so much so, he called the front desk and had Jess come get him for therapy.
While I was pleased that he’d gone, I hated that he was so angry with me. He wouldn’t even look at me as she wheeled him out of the room. I just sat there in the corner, watching the sun as it started to set. It wouldn’t be long before it was dark out, and I had no clue where I was staying tonight or even how long I would be staying.
Weston had made it clear that he wanted me gone, but I was staying put until I knew he was making progress. And that could be a matter of a few days or as much as a month or more. I was trying to forge a plan when the door creaked open, and Weston and his physical therapist appeared.
His face was flushed, and his hair was damp with sweat. I could tell from his expression that he was wiped out, but he kept a determined glare as the nurse maneuvered his wheelchair over to the bed. I jumped up to help but stopped the second I noticed Weston’s heated expression.
It was clear he didn’t want my help, so I sat back down and watched as the nurse eased Weston out of the wheelchair. She supported him as he shifted from the seat to the bed. With a grunt, Weston lowered himself onto the bed, and Jess quickly adjusted the pillows behind him.
I could see the strain on his face as he inched his way back, and it was all I could do to keep myself from going over to him. Once he was finally settled, Jess placed her hand on his knee and said, “You did good today.”
“Thanks.” Weston managed to give her a weary smile. "Sorry, I’ve been such an ass the last few days.”
“Don’t sweat it.” Her expression softened as she told him, "I know it can be frustrating, but you did great today. You just gotta keep at it, and it won’t be long before you start to see the progress."
“I hope you’re right.”
“I am.” She looked over and checked his monitors one last time before saying, "I'll be back in the morning for some pool time.”
“Sounds like loads of fun,” Wes grumbled.
“Oh, it will be. You’ll see,” she chuckled, patting him one last time before heading for the door. "Call if you need anything."
Weston nodded, then leaned back and closed his eyes with a sigh. He was just as flushed and sweaty as he was when she first rolled him in, so I quietly stood and slipped into the bathroom. I grabbed a hand towel from the rack and ran it under the faucet, soaking it in cold water. I quickly rang it out, then made my way over to Weston’s side.
I placed the towel on his forehead, and his eyes immediately opened. There was a hint of gratitude in his gaze, but it quickly faded into irritation. I thought he was going to tell me to screw off, but thankfully, he held in his anger and let me continue to move the cool towel over his forehead. After a few minutes, I whispered, “I’m sorry. I know...”
“Don’t start with that shit, Antonia. I don’t need your fucking pity.”
“I don’t pity you, Weston. I was just...”
“Going to say some bullshit to try and make me feel better. Well, don’t waste your breath. There’s nothing you can say that will make any of this better.”
“How would you know? You won’t let me finish a damn sentence!”
His stone-cold expression remained, but he didn’t respond.
He just sat there and sighed, giving me an opportunity to add, “I was just going to say that I was sorry and that I know how hard it can be to be stuck in a hospital. That’s all.”
“What the hell do you know about it?”
“When I was fourteen, I had my tonsils out, and...”
“Your tonsils?” he scoffed. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“There you go again.” I turned the towel over and draped it over his throat. “Are you gonna let me tell my story or not?”