Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“I’ll help you down, then put you down,” I told her, assuring her that I wasn’t up to no-good.
She dismissed me and looked for her mother.
Nettie saw me coming first, and her entire face melted into softness.
She elbowed Magnolia slightly, and Magnolia darted over. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stay gone that long. You’re good with her.”
“I think it was the quietness.” I shrugged.
“Iris, can you say thank you?” Magnolia asked her daughter.
She said “thank you” in sign language.
I repeated it back to her.
“You know sign language?”
“I know enough to get me by.” I gestured toward Beau. “He knows it well. His brother and his dad are deaf.”
“I’m learning slowly,” she placed Iris down on the ground and the little girl dropped her soccer ball and started to dribble it straight toward Beau. Beau who was watching the ladies in front of him with a hard eye. “Thanks again.”
She left with Iris, following behind her slow dribble.
Nettie came up to me then. “I see you made a friend.”
“I wouldn’t say friends, exactly,” I teased. “She more tolerated me.”
“She’s adorable,” she mused.
“Very,” I agreed. “I can’t wait to hold our own girl.”
Nettie leaned on the iron railing separating us. “Do you think this is going to work out?”
I looked around.
For so many years, I’d been desperate to get Nettie here to play for the Cowgirls. Now that the time was here, I felt like I was getting all my prayers answered. I had my girl. A baby on the way. My wife’s job was here. My mom was mostly out of the picture. My life seemed to be working out.
That was one of the last happy moments that I had for a while.
I wish I would’ve soaked it in a little bit longer.
Twenty-Three
The struggle bus should have a loyalty rewards program.
—Nettie to Boone
Boone
“A five-and-a-half-minute mile is pretty impressive for seven months pregnant, don’t you think?”
“I think that conceit doesn’t look good on you,” I teased.
She laughed and held out her hands. “Can I drive?”
I thought about telling her no, but decided to let her seeing as she did it so rarely. Plus, I always thought she looked so damn cute driving my old truck. She had to lean way forward, practically touching the steering wheel.
She eased into the seat and sighed. “I am pooped, though. That was harder than it should’ve been.”
“That was likely easier than it should’ve been,” I pointed out. “I mean, what pregnant person do you know that can run that fast? Hell, I can vividly remember a few of our friends gaining quite a bit of weight when they had kids. You don’t look like you’ve put on any at all.”
“I’ve put on fifteen pounds,” she pointed out as she buckled her belt. “I…”
I don’t know what happened.
One second I was buckling my seat belt, and the next I wasn’t.
I woke next in the hospital unaware of how I’d gotten there.
“Mr. Windsor,” a doctor said as he noticed me awake. “How’s the pain right now?”
Pain?
“None,” I mumbled. “Why?”
He looked pleased. “You were in a car wreck. Do you remember?”
A car wreck?
“What…” Understanding hit me. “My wife!”
“Calm down, sir.” The doctor pushed me back onto the gurney. “You have a lot of damage to your right side. You can’t get up right now.”
“My wife,” I pleaded. “Is she okay?”
The doctor’s grim face told me all I needed to know.
No, she was not okay.
She wasn’t okay at all.
Two days later
It took me two full days to be able to get out of the bed and walk toward Nettie’s room.
We were on the same floor, and they had yet to listen to me and take me to see her.
Finally, I’d defied them all and walked on my own, pissing off nurses and doctors alike.
Seems when you had a broken collarbone, dislocated hip and shoulder, they wanted you to stay still.
I didn’t.
I wanted to see my wife, and if they weren’t going to take me to her, I’d get there my damn self.
“Sir!” A nurse tried to get in my way.
She’d have to get out of my way or I’d run her ass over.
“Sir!” she pleaded with me to stop.
I didn’t, pushing past her to peep into every room I passed to see if my wife was inside.
I knew she was on the same floor.
My family and friends had said that she was, but they, too, had been incredibly cryptic.
It was only when I got to the last room on the floor that I saw her.
She was sitting up in bed eating Jell-O. Her eyes were on the darkened screen of the TV.
She had no bruises. No broken bones. No nothing.
If she wasn’t hurt, why was she in here?
That’s when she turned and I saw the bruise on the side of her head.
When the truck had hit me on my side, it must’ve caused her to hit her head.