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)
Maybe Tuck forgot something when he dropped me off earlier. Or it could be some of the guys from work?
The mayor coming round to present me with a key to our little city? Rumors have already traveled up the mountain to my mom this morning, who is now giddy over the possibility.
“Autumn!” my mom squeals in delight, throwing her arms around Autumn as if she were her long-lost daughter. Odd.
I jerk up to see her, stupidly forgetting about the injuries, and fall back in pain, gritting my teeth to keep from bellowing like a . . . well, like a wimp in pain. Breathing through it, I’m reminded how every muscle seems to want to work against me right now. But her seeing me lying around like a lump on a log isn’t exactly how I'd hoped to run into the beauty again.
Chopping wood shirtless.
Running along the docks for exercise. Shirtless.
Getting that key to the city with her eyes latched onto me. With a shirt, but damn, I want to be shirtless with her. That’s how I want her to see me—strong, upright, and hopefully finding me as attractive as I find her.
While they chat quietly, I hear my name and see Autumn peek around my mom once to catch a glimpse of me before she’s blocked again and whispering to my mother like I’m not in the vicinity. I use my good arm to wedge myself more upright against the couch arm and readjust the blanket so it looks relaxed, not like a patient rotting on the leather cushions.
An attending hospital nurse making house calls is unexpected. The hot nurse coming to check on me? Welp, a little heads-up so I could make myself more presentable would have been nice. I knew I should have brushed my teeth when I got home, attempted a shower despite the warning at release not to, or at least sponged myself off. This is not how I wanted to meet again. “Hi. Hello?”
Angling toward me, my mom dotes on her, complimenting her hair and how sweet she is for stopping by. I can’t stop myself from studying the familiarity of their embrace, or how my mom’s tone is an octave higher in excitement, like this nurse is her favorite person. Have I been knocked off my pedestal?
And then my mom says, “Come in. Come in. Our little patient is resting on the couch.”
Our little patient?
Fucking hell.
When my mom shifts to close the door, Autumn’s eyes lock onto mine. I’m usually good at reading people, but like before, her expression is complex, with no single trait taking pole position. Annoyance radiates from her, her brows tugging together as if I’ve already pissed her off. But at the same time, the glint of curiosity I detect in the hue of her green eyes has me confused.
I shift, not knowing how to navigate her visiting me at my home, much less looking at me like she has a bone to pick. I say, “I would have put on a shirt if I knew company was coming.” I wanted her to see me shirtless, looking my best, not like her “little patient” she saw in the hospital bed.
She comes closer, her hair pulled back at the nape of her neck, in blue scrubs that curve in at her waist, and a pair of black Converse sneakers that have seen better days, anchoring her stance. She stops at the other end of the couch with her arms crossed over her chest and looks me over. “I’m here to help with that, but don’t cover up on my account. I’ve seen it all before.” Her eyes travel from my injured shoulder to the healthy one, where her gaze lingers. I tighten my hand into a fist in a desperate attempt to flex my muscles, but her gaze has already slid above my head. Her mouth drops open before she clamps it shut and walks along the back of the couch, her eyes staying focused through the picture window behind me. “Your view is . . .” She blinks as if she’ll see something different when she reopens them. “It’s incredible.” Glancing down at me, she adds, “You can see all the way to the ocean. I bet you never get tired of it.”
Staring at her and tracing the lines of her delicate features, I reply, “No. I never would.” The smallest of upturns at the corner of her mouth are detectable but not for long when she shifts her gaze away again. I take a breath and fuss with the blanket that’s determined to slip to the floor and pull it back into place over my legs. Even though showing a little knee isn’t going to cause a commotion, her visit might. “What brings you by, Nurse?”
“Autumn came by to check on you,” my mom responds, practically beaming in a spot of sunlight from Autumn’s presence. “Isn’t that so sweet, Brandon?”