Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 47191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
“Hello,” I answer the phone, not checking who’s calling, only answering it to keep it from ringing.
“Hi, uh, Graham, it’s Faith.” That annoyance disappears.
“Hey, babe. I know it’s you by your voice alone. You okay?” I ask her.
“Not so much. I tried to get Logan to calm down, but he was running and tripped in the classroom at school today. We’re at the hospital now. He’s kind of demanding you come here to watch him get stitched up.” My gut sinks at Logan being injured.
“I’ll be there. You doing okay?” I’m marching back to my room like the flames of hell are on my heels.
“Yeah, kind of scared and worried about a concussion. He’s so strong, Graham, not even crying, though he may crumble once they numb him. The doctor is getting things squared away, so if you could hurry, I’d greatly appreciate it. He thinks the world of you and wants you to see how brave he is. Please, Graham.” I’ve already managed to slide into a pair of jeans, threw some socks on. All I need is my shirt and boots.
“Walking out the door now. You want to stay on the phone in case the doctor comes in before I get there? I hate that our champ is going through this.”
“That would be nice. Here, I’ll hand Logan the phone. Thanks, Graham.” I’m thankful I keep my wallet in the car, so all I have to do is walk out and get in my government-issued Tahoe, and I’m not above using the lights to reach them faster.
“Mr. Graham, did you hear the news?” Logan’s little voice comes on over the phone, excitement in his tone.
“I sure did. I’m about five minutes away. Why don’t you hold your momma’s hand for a minute? I’m thinking she could use some of that right about now,” I tell him, knowing Faith is probably trying to hold herself together.
“Okay, I will.” He prattles on, talking about how he can hear the sirens through the phone line, and we don’t hang up until I’m walking into the emergency room.
Chapter 5
Faith
Thank God Graham got here when he did. Logan was his usual happy-go-lucky self at first. Me, not so much. I’m ten seconds away from passing out when Graham must read the sign. One of his hands is in Logan’s, the other in mine. He’s also blocking the view of what’s happening on Logan’s forehead just inside his hairline. They thought they could use stitches but then switched to staples. The strong, never-let-the-wind-out-of-her-sails Faith Bridges is nowhere to be seen when Logan’s lower lip starts quivering and big alligator tears are dripping from his eyes. There’s no amount of coaxing him to calm down, until Graham gets him talking about Legos, tells him how he took the day off in his gentle voice, that just as soon as we’re out of here, the two of them are going to finish their project.
“Last one. You ready for it?” Graham asks Logan as the doctor works on him.
“You betcha. Think we can get an ice cream after this?” Logan starts to wiggle, but Graham redirects his attention.
“I think that is definitely in the cards. What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream, champ?” My eyes swoop towards Graham’s calm demeanor. The way I’ve pushed him away is probably unforgivable in his eyes, and yet here he is. One frantic phone call, me losing my shit silently, almost throwing up, and here comes Graham to the rescue. I clearly need my head examined. If I called Lily, she would tell me it’s time to get back in the saddle. It’s so easy for other people to say, but when you’ve been a single mom as long as I have, there’s this deep-seated fear that the moment you let said person into your life, into your child’s life, they’ll walk away, leaving not only you but your child with this huge gaping wound in the middle of your chest. That’s why this thing between Graham and me have me rocking on my heels in nothing but apprehension.
“Vanilla with sprinkles, and sometimes, if I’m extra nice, Mom and I will get a banana split. That’s rare, though. We have to save our pennies.” Leave it to Logan to rat me out about being frugal with our money. Graham’s eyes narrow on mine. He attempts to say something, but I return my attention to the doctor.
“You are all set, Logan. I’m going to leave your mom with instructions on how to keep an eye on your head.” He puts the gun in the sharps area container, takes off his gloves, and then reaches for the laptop that’s placed on the counter.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
“No problem. It’s always a pleasure seeing the Sheriff and to help a fellow Cherry Falls resident out. Here are the papers we talked about, as well as the antibiotics he’ll need to be on.” Logan is on concussion protocol, which means if Legos start to irritate him, it’s time to rest, the tablet is completely off the table for the first few days, and schoolwork will be even worse.