Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 110113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Searing pain slices through my skull. I make a strangled noise, but that just makes the burn in my throat worse.
I hope Ella isn’t a total nightmare getting ready for school.
I’m so proud of Ava. I wish I could see her. I’m scared and I’m hurting and I just want her here.
She’s my person. Weird if I ask her to be my emergency contact?
Nah. I can just picture her smile when she shakes her head and says, Of course I’m your emergency contact, cowboy.
Now I’m the one smiling. My lip lights up with pain, but I don’t care.
She’s here.
Somehow, I know Ava is here. Maybe because my hands are so warm. And that Little Mermaid song I keep hearing—I have to laugh. The girls sing it nonstop in the bathtub together, their off-key rendition reducing Ava and me to stitches.
Our little family. I love us, and I will forever be pissed at God or the universe or whoever is in charge if I’m taken away from them.
A tingling sensation works its way down my spine and through the rest of my body. The pain in my head and side lessens. The song and the dreams stop.
But the warmth in my hands—that stays.
“Now that he’s out of the ICU, we’ll just keep an eye on him for the next few days. Once we can take out that chest tube, he’ll likely be discharged the following day.”
It’s a voice I don’t recognize. A woman with an accent I can’t place.
The voice that replies? I smile just hearing it, making my bottom lip burn.
She really is here.
“How much pain is he in?” Ava asks.
A fuck ton, I want to answer. My head is still killing me, so much so that I can’t open my eyes. My lip hurts, and my side is sore as hell.
But apparently I’m still alive, so I’ll take the pain.
I’m also still warm.
“We’re doing our best to keep him comfortable. He’ll have a raging headache from the hematoma—”
“The brain bleed.”
“Right.”
Ava’s voice trembles a little when she replies, “That sounds so serious.”
“We’re monitoring it, along with his respiratory function. So far, everything is looking really good. Going forward, he’ll need to be careful moving around with those fractured ribs. The stitches in his lip and that nasty bruise from the seat belt will definitely cause him some discomfort, but again, we’ll do our best to keep him in a good place.”
“Thank y’all so much.”
“He’s doing great, Ava. And so are you.”
“Coffee is my new best friend,” she says with a laugh.
You’re my best friend, I try to say. Instead, I make this weird rasping sound that scrapes the sides of my throat raw.
“Sawyer? Sawyer, honey, are you awake?”
God, I love it when she calls me honey.
Prying my eyes open, I blink at the sudden onslaught of light. Late afternoon sun slants through a room with white walls and a tiled ceiling. A heart monitor beeps from somewhere behind the bed I’m lying in.
Christ, my head hurts.
My gaze meets Ava’s. When I take in the purple circles around her bloodshot eyes and the crease in her forehead, my stomach dips.
“Hey, cowboy.” She blinks, sniffling, and arcs her thumbs over the back of my hands. “How are you feeling?”
I try clearing my throat and end up croaking, “Like hell.”
“Oh, Sawyer, I’m so sorry. I was—we’ve all been—” Ava blows out a breath. “Worried.”
“How long have you been here?”
She grins, tears leaking out of her eyes. “The question you should be asking is how long you’ve been here.”
“Is the answer the same?”
“Yeah.” Rolling her lips between her teeth, she nods. “A little over twenty-four hours. I know you’re in good hands here, and that you’re going to be okay—”
“That’s good to know.” I chuckle, then immediately wince at the pain in my side.
“But I couldn’t leave you. Cash and Mollie have the girls and kept them overnight while you were in the ICU. Your brothers are taking turns coming to check in on you.”
“I’m fine.” I try to sit up a little, but my arm gets tangled in a tube that—fuck me—appears to be attached to my side.
“You’re not, though.” Ava gently presses me back down against the pillows. “That’s the chest tube they had to insert to help you breathe. You have three fractured ribs, a punctured lung, a busted lip, and a brain bleed, which you got when you flipped your car to avoid hitting some pedestrians.”
My heart hiccups. “They’re okay? I didn’t hit them?”
“You didn’t hit them, no. Everyone is fine. A little shaken up, but otherwise fine.” Her expression softens. “How like you to ask about them first. You’re going to be fine too, even if you don’t feel particularly wonderful at the moment.”
Eyes burning, I let out a hot, short breath through my nose, because using my lungs fucking hurts.