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)
Signaling to the empty chair at the end of the coffee table, I say, “Make yourself more comfortable.”
“Actually,” Autumn starts, her voice gentle as she returns to the other end of the couch. “I’m not here for my comfort. I’m here for yours.” The pause stretches as I work through what she’s saying, but then she adds, “I’m here in a professional capacity, Mr. Culv—”
“Mr. Culver?” My mom’s balk startles Autumn, whose eyes widen. My mom snaps her mouth shut when the reaction receives silence instead of understanding, but then her eyes mimic Autumn’s. “As a nurse?”
“Yes,” Autumn replies, walking toward the front door, “but my bag is in the car. I’ll be right back.”
As soon as she exits, I whisper, “Why is she here, and who is she?”
She laughs. “It’s just a friendly visit, Son.”
“Why would it be a friendly visit?” Seems unwarranted and slightly concerning that she’s crossing professional lines, considering I barely know her, but okaaaay. I shift myself even more upright, getting in the best defensive position I can manage in this condition.
Mom passes by me with a beaming smile and sits in the chair beside me. She rests back. “Imagine if she was your personal nurse. Wouldn’t that just take the cake?”
“There will be no cake taking or personal nursing involved. The hospital put in a request for someone to help with some basics around here, but it hadn’t been approved when I was discharged. Anyway, I told them I don’t need help. I can function,” I say, flailing my hand around like that will prove my point. “It’s only a little bruising. That’s all.”
“It’s not just bru—”
“I’m back,” Autumn announces, loud enough to alert half the mountain. Dragging a suitcase behind her, she stops shy of the living room and looks left and then right before she glances back at us. “Which way do I go?”
“Go?” I ask, bouncing my gaze from the suitcase to the hefty bag draped from her shoulder to the look of expectation in her expression, making me wonder what I missed and how we got here. Despite her being hot, the night-shift nurse showing up at my house out of the blue is befuddling. I scratch my head. “What do you mean, go?”
Adjusting the bag on her shoulder, she angles her head down with confusion, wrinkling her brow like I’m speaking another language. “Which way is the bedroom?”
“The bedroom?” My chin drops, and I stare at her out of the tops of my eyes, the same confusion volleying between us. “My bedroom?”
The sudden jerk of her head gives me a spark of relief like we might be getting closer to figuring out this strange misunderstanding. “Huh? Oh my God, no,” she sputters, grabbing at her throat as if she can coax the words out. “Not your room. The room where I’ll be staying.”
Apparently, I’m more concussed than I realize because I am totally lost regarding what this woman is doing here besides hugging my mom, checking out my view, and acting like she’s moving in. “Why would you be staying?” This has gotten awkward. “I think I should call the hospital.”
“That’s probably best.”
I take the phone from beside me on the couch and scroll through some numbers until I see the one I want and stab it with my finger.
My mom, who looks as flustered as this situation is, moves into the kitchen. “Let me get everyone a glass of water while we’re waiting.”
Waiting . . .
Waiting for the hospital to answer.
Waiting to find out what the hell is going on.
Waiting for this woman to stab us to death . . . “Mountain Laurel Cove Hospital, how may I direct your call?”
“Hi, this is Brandon Culver. I was released earlier—”
“Yes, Mr. Culver. This is Stacy. I was one of your nurses. You weren’t awake when I was your attending nurse, but we’re familiar.” My eyebrow rises in reaction. Maybe they’re all like this. “How can I help you? Is everything alright?”
“I’m fine. But I currently have a little situation going on.” I keep my eyes on the rogue redhead as she inspects her cuticles, tapping her foot like I’m putting her out. I lower my voice and hold the phone closer to my mouth. “A nurse showed up at my house.” Autumn’s eyes dart to mine and narrow. “I think she’s in distress and needs—”
“What?” she shouts, running for the phone. Lunging toward me, I hold the phone just out of her grasping hands. Tipping over the back of the couch, she tries to grab the phone from my hand. “Distress? Are you insa—”
“I need help.”
Falling face down in my lap, she pushes off so fast that she lands on her ass, gasping for air like a fish flailing on the docks. “Hang up, Brandon!”
I maneuver myself to peek over the couch just as she pops up and grabs the phone from my hand. Devious little thing. “Hello?” she says, getting to her feet and walking away from me. “Stacy? It’s Autumn . . . Yes, that’s right . . . He’s fine—”