Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 138274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
“You’re not stitched up?”
“Not yet. Manny says I need surgery. My liver’s leaking or something. I didn’t pay a lot of attention to it. He’ll take care of me soon enough.”
His sentences were short, likely because even with the drugs, he was in pain. Other than that ever so subtle shift in speech, though, you’d never know he was so badly injured.
“You’re so brave about being cut open.” She winced. “Okay, that was a stupid thing to say. I mean, if I were facing surgery, I’d be terrified—”
Shut up, Bitty.
The smile that hit L.W.’s face was… transformative, making him look closer to his actual age. As opposed to something that was ancient and tired of the world.
“It’s all right,” he said. “I’ve gone under. The knife a lot of times. With Manny. He’s amazing. I’m really not. Worried about it.”
As she smiled back at him, she…
Ran the hell out of things to say. Damn it, she really could have used a game plan for this. All of that Resolve2Evolve stuff, about expressing her truth (she was so glad he was okay), claiming her space (she was not going to be embarrassed for coming to see him), and being confident (she was staring at his bare, tattooed chest, and that was not the kind of confidence that seemed appropriate in this situation), did not appear to be helping her much.
What she really needed was practical advice. Like how not to say something stupid about being scared of surgery to a patient with a hole in their liver.
Or whatever was wrong with him.
God, why did she and Nalla have to fall out? Nalla always gave great advice—
“You could sit down,” L.W. said as he pointed to the comfy chair in the corner. “And keep me company. Until they come to get me. If you want. Won’t be much longer. Only about twenty minutes or so.”
Bitty started to smile. Maybe she wasn’t doing as badly as she thought she was.
“I’ll do that,” she murmured as she went over and sat down. “I’m happy to help take your mind off things.”
Those eyes grew hooded as he stared across at her. “Oh, you do that. Always.”
* * *
As Nalla stepped out of Nate’s log cabin, she glanced around at the snow-covered landscape. There was a set of tire tracks into the property and then back out again, and footprints around the entry, but other than that, nothing was disturbed, and she scented nothing.
Well, nothing that smelled like baby powder and sweaty death. She did catch a whiff of burned something or another. Not a chimney, but something else bonfire-ish. Which wasn’t dangerous.
Just the kind of thing that made her nose wrinkle.
Walking forward, she made like she had somewhere to go. And she did. Kind of.
“Fuck,” she muttered as she stopped and looked up at the sky.
There were no stars out, the sky dense with clouds. More snow? Sure, why not—
Holy hell, the center of her chest hurt, and those eggs had been a really bad idea. Putting her hand on her stomach, she wondered whether she was going to throw up now or wait until she was off his land. Spoiled for choice on that one.
Closing her eyes, she told herself to get a grip. She wasn’t getting a divorce, for fuck’s sake. She had been on two dates—not even, really—with a male she was powerfully attracted to, who had a very bad past, through no fault of his own, and who had his mind scrambled at the moment. If she couldn’t keep herself together just because they hadn’t parted with a declaration of eternal love? Then she needed counseling.
Except maybe she should have stayed? But he’d seemed so stiff and uncomfortable. And there wasn’t another room to go into, other than the bath.
She glanced over her shoulder. Should she go back and try to talk to him?
If she could just find the right words…
Crap, maybe Bitty was right, and she really did need to work on herself. What had that tagline been? Resolve2Evolve? She could use a little evolution at the moment, thank you very much.
As she pictured herself going back to Luchas House and pretending Everything Was Just Great with the staff, she really wished that she could text her best friend to meet up at their real home. After two pints of ice cream and some ancient The Office reruns together, probably she wouldn’t feel like her life was over.
She missed Bitty. A lot. And the fact that she couldn’t call the female and ask for advice about Nate really made Nalla feel like a shithead. Why had she thought she’d had all the answers? Who cared about some kind of social media program? Here Nalla herself was, standing in the snow out in the cold, while portions of a conversation she was never going to have with a male she really cared about were circling like vultures over the dead bodies of her previous sense of optimism and excitement.