Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
When she comes closer, her eyes are lighter than mine, but the TV screen doesn’t reflect enough light to know if they’re green or blue. I’m hoping green to make a stunning combination with her hair. She asks, “How are you feeling? Any pain?”
I shift without thinking and instantly regret it. Groaning, I grit, “A little.”
“Seems like more than a little. I’ll get you something for that.” She wraps her fingers around the rail, studying me like I’m her personal experiment. “What about your appetite? I read in your chart that you haven’t eaten much.”
No ring.
No indentation.
Nothing is wrapped around her finger.
The heart monitor kicks up, exposing me. I grin. “I could eat.”
Her eyes shift to the monitor beside her, though. Busted. When she looks back at me, a laugh tickles her throat before she clears it. “Are you okay?”
“Great. Never better.”
Her eyebrows shoot straight to the ceiling. “Really? I would think you’ve been better.” She laughs, the soft melody overlapping the sports update on the TV. I click mute, hoping for the sound of her to fill the room instead.
Chuckling, I reply, “Yeah, I’ve been better.” I pick at a loose thread on the thin blanket covering my legs. “Any word on when I’m getting out of here?”
Sympathy fills her eyes as her expression changes. I hate pity, and I prefer she not wear it in my honor. “Nothing is noted. The doctors will be in after eight, but I don’t know their schedule.” She shrugs. “You’re stuck with me for the night.”
“I can think of worse places to be stuck.”
That brings her smile back around along with brighter lights from the TV, giving me a better look at her face. Freckles scatter across the bridge of her nose and the apples of her cheeks, and the remnants of summer remain in a slight tan of her skin. “I hate to tell you, but we’re sorely lacking in food options at this hour. The cafeteria is closed, but I can grab you a cold sandwich or salad or heat you some soup in the microwave from the nourishment room. Or,” she says, “I have sausage, cheese, and crackers. What are you hungry for?”
Thinking about her lips shouldn’t be the first thing that comes to mind, but I’m wondering how I’ve lived here my whole life and haven’t run across this beauty before.
“Mr. Culver?”
My gaze shoots up to hers. “Yeah?”
“What sounds good to you?”
I cock a brow, but that’s a cutting reminder of the pain in my head. “Right.” The throb deepens, aggravating the ache until I reach up with my free hand to rub my temple. “It all sounds like a lot of trouble for you.”
“Taking care of you is what I’m here for, so it’s no trouble at all.”
“The crackers sound good.” Not sure why, but a snack will suffice over the other options.
“Coming right up with a side of pain meds.” The rubber of her soles squeak against the shiny floor when she turns on her heels. She pulls the door open so fast that strands of her hair fly into the air. When she glances back, the light from the corridor shines on her, and it’s too bright to hide those pretty green eyes. “I’ll be right back.”
Damn, if I wasn’t already laid out, that smile would have knocked me on my ass.
As soon as the door closes, I rub my temple to ease the pain before reaching for the pitcher and pouring a cup of water. I drink slowly and wait before taking another sip to alleviate the dryness in my throat.
I watch the TV as the quarterback gets sacked. The memories of the two times I experienced being tackled like that hit me like a freight train. The concussion I got back in high school was worse than the one I have now. I’m still hoping to bounce back just as quickly. Age is a funny thing, though, when it comes to healing. I’m not seventeen anymore.
As soon as I take another gulp of water, the door opens again. My attention jumps from her to the whiteboard on the wall, but the only name listed is Debbie’s. Is it rude to ask her name? Seems only fair since she knows mine, which rolled off her tongue earlier like it was familiar.
She sets a white plate on the tray and then slides the table in front of me. “Good, you have water.” She holds out a small cup with a pill at the bottom like it’s a treat I’ve earned from good behavior. “Hopefully this will help.” After she glances at the clock on the wall, her eyes land back on mine, causing my heart to beat faster again. I’m about to unplug that damn machine to keep it from giving away my secrets and reactions. “If it doesn’t relieve you, in say . . . thirty minutes, let me know.”