Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
I don’t know if I was the first one to give up on that magic phrase or if it was her.
Regardless, the love ended before our marriage. I haven’t said it to another woman since.
Over ten damn years without conjuring those words, and here I am, sputtering my love to a girl who’s barely conscious.
If my heart wasn’t pounding through my chest with real fear thudding through my veins, I’d find it funny.
“Hang tight, just a little while longer. I love you,” I tell her again.
She’s practically asleep now. The crying probably exhausted her, but the ghost of a smile touches her lips as she whispers, “I love you, too.”
It takes too long for her to wake up.
Too many hours where I’m stuck by her side in the hospital room—like hell I was settling for the waiting room and her family didn’t fight me—watching IVs stuck in the back of her hand as she lies under a thin blue sheet.
I only break the silence to text her friend, Lyssie, letting her know the nightmare is over.
The whisper of her breath is the only sound in this room.
I count her breaths, too, because they’re my only assurance she’s still alive.
The nurse said she was horribly dehydrated. She’d gotten a nasty stomach bug from some water she drank. They gave her meds and now they’re replacing her nutrients or something.
I don’t know. I’m not a doctor.
All I know is I’m not moving until she wakes up.
My own exhaustion kicks in and I nod off a few times into the morning. Grey light filters through the blinds when I lift my head from the corner of her bed.
She’s awake, watching me with a tired smile.
Relief floods my system.
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty. How you feeling?” I pull up my chair and take her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Hey, yourself. How long have you been there?”
“A few hours.”
“All night, you mean.” She rolls her eyes. “You look rough.”
“Nice to see you too.”
Another tiny smile touches the corner of her mouth, and her fingers tighten around mine. “I didn’t think you’d ever come.”
“You couldn’t have kept me away with a chainsaw. I was ready to cut down every square foot of that forest until I found you.”
“I didn’t take you for a big outdoorsman.” Her smile widens.
“Neither did I until you went AWOL.” I stare at her face for a second, reassuring myself there’s color in her cheeks. “You scared me shitless.”
She purses her lips. “I blame the tent.”
“What?”
“The reason I got lost. The stupid tent. If it didn’t suck so much because I bought it used, I would’ve just stayed there all night instead of trying to find that RV park.” She grimaces, and it’s so damn cute I have to stop myself from kissing her. “I’m sorry if I worried you.”
“If I was worried?” I thread my fingers through hers, and though she tenses at the contact, she doesn’t pull away. “Winnie, do you know how fucking crazy I’ve been?”
Her smile turns down. Just one side, like she’s holding the expression back in a losing battle.
“I’m really sorry.”
“No. I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad, I was—” This is coming out wrong. I’m supposed to be comforting her, reassuring her about us, but instead she’s just feeling guilty for running. I kiss her knuckles. “I know why you left. I get it.”
“I didn’t mean to scare you. I never wanted anyone to fuss over me.”
“I know, and I’m not blaming you. I’m blaming me. I’m just relieved as hell you’re okay.” When she doesn’t flinch, I brush her hair back and trail a knuckle over her cheek.
She turns her eyes to me.
When I lean in for a kiss, she puts the arm with the IV around my neck and pulls me down.
I swear, if she wasn’t here recuperating in a hospital bed, I’d shut the door and show her just how relieved I am she’s okay. For now, I check my instincts, very damn reluctantly.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” she whispers again.
“I always will, even if all you want is to punch me in the face.” I shake my head, a lump hardening in my throat. This woman makes me too emotional. “I’m sorry I made you feel abandoned.”
She looks down at our joined hands on the pale-blue sheets.
“I don’t remember what was real and what was just a dream. You found me and carried me out. But you said so much.” The redness in her cheeks deepens.
“No dream,” I say. “I meant every word, Sugarbee.”
Her breath catches. I know she’s about to ask me to repeat what I said then.
I steel myself to tell her again since she’s fully aware—but a knock at the door interrupts us.
“Come in,” Winnie calls.
“Oh, Winnie, you’re awake!” A small, faded woman who looks like she’s been dipped in beige walks in. Linda Emberly, Winnie’s mother, I’m guessing.