Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
“How’s he doing?” the nurse asks, slipping quietly into the room.
Pulling my hand away from him, I force myself not to growl in response. “Sleeping.”
“I just need to take his vitals.”
“Do you have to do that? He needs his rest.”
She gives me one of those strange smiles, like the kind Aunt Fia gives Tiernan. “I’ll be quick. How long have you two been together?” she asks while she works.
“About three months,” I lie. That feels like a fucking eternity. I can’t even imagine being in a real relationship like that.
“Oh, so it’s new.”
“No, it’s not.” What the hell is she on about?
She chuckles. “I guess not at your age. Well, he’s very lucky to have you. It’s clear you care about him a lot.”
“If he was lucky, he wouldn’t be in this bed right now.” I can’t change the fact that he is, but I damn sure can make it that the people who put him here stop breathing.
“You can’t control everything. It’s sweet that you want to, though.” She grins at me again, finishes up, and slips out of the room. She probably wouldn’t be saying that if she knew who I was. She would be thinking Ollie needs to get as far away from me as possible, and honestly, she’d be right.
I reach out to touch his fingers again but stop myself. It feels wrong to do when he’s not awake to tell me if it’s okay or not. He had hands put on him against his will tonight, and though this situation is different, I don’t want to do the same to him.
He moans, making my eyes jerk up to his face. He’s still asleep but looking distressed. I sit back, not allowing myself to be too close to him. The last thing I want is to make him uncomfortable.
Ollie moans again, shifts, then grimaces. “Hate it here. I just want to go home.”
“Shh. You’re good. Go back to sleep. I’ll take you home tomorrow.”
His eyes flutter, but I don’t think he’s fully awake. I’m surprised he’s coming out of it at all after what he’s been through tonight and the meds they gave him.
“Mom…” He says it so softly, the word is hard to make out, so I study his full lips.
Great…he thinks I’m his fucking mom? That’s a bit of a blow to the ego. “Do you want to call her?”
“Can’t.” He rolls to his side, facing me, curling in on himself, his face pinched as if he’s not in a comfortable position. His eyes are still closed, his voice slurring when he says, “She’s dead…that’s why…I hate it here. The machines remind me…when she got hurt.”
Blood rushes through my ears. I’m stuck between wanting to hear more and wishing he would slip further into sleep because if he were in his right mind, I know he wouldn’t want to be sharing this with me. Still, my thoughts snag on his words. Ollie lost his mom too. He said earlier he didn’t want to call his father, so does he only have his dad like me? Is he better to Ollie than mine is to me?
“I’m sorry.” The words nearly stick in my throat. My tongue feels too big for my mouth. I sit up, set my hand on the mattress, but don’t touch him.
“I can’t…let anything happen…to me. It would kill him.”
I’m assuming he means his father, so I guess that answers my question about their relationship. Good for him. I’m glad he has that. “We won’t let anything happen to you.” I won’t let anything happen to him.
“I miss her…so much.”
My chest aches, my heart throbbing like a painful bruise. We don’t do this, the guys and I. Tiernan hated his father and doesn’t mourn him. Rory’s mom killed herself, and his dad was murdered, but he doesn’t talk about them, doesn’t tell me he misses them. Both Rory and Tiernan would both be cool if I talked to them about Mom. I did in the beginning, but…it’s just not something I do. “I miss mine too,” I admit. It’s a secret between a sleeping Ollie and me. One that people know on some level, but not something I’ve shared with anyone in too many years to count. “I miss her every day.”
His eyes flutter again, and then…then his hand moves across the bed. This time, it’s Ollie touching me, Ollie’s hand on mine.
He doesn’t speak anymore, doesn’t say another word, just holds on to me and falls into a deeper sleep. It takes me a moment to realize I’m not breathing, and I let the air whoosh from my lungs. I have no fucking idea why I’m acting this way, why I care that we share a similar pain. Why I care that he’s holding my fucking hand like I’m a child needing to be coddled.