Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“At least the curtain is closed today?” Brooke offers, trying to put a stop to my absolute fucking tailspin.
“Oh yeah. The curtain is closed. The curtain is flipping closed because my kids were terrified at the sight of someone they care about unconscious in the bed, Brooke! And I don’t need an open curtain to see shit. I can see that woman and Noah’s baby and the whole fucking mess every time I close my eyes!”
My voice is a near shout as I lose control of my emotions, but it’s only when the curtain rips open to reveal a tearful Ashley standing there that I realize my mistake.
Shit.
“Oh no,” Brooke whispers.
“You guys know I can hear you, right?”
I swallow and stare at my sister. “Brooke.”
“I really thought she couldn’t hear us,” she whispers back to me, like, you know, Ashley can’t hear us. “I don’t know why I thought that, but I definitely thought it.”
I nearly snort at the irony of it all. “I was in a coma for two days. What’s your excuse?”
Ashley is still staring at us, but I can’t seem to address her directly. As fate would have it, though, I don’t have to.
Because she says enough for the both of us.
“You have it wrong, by the way.”
“Have it wrong?” Brooke asks on a yell. “Do you understand the months I’ve put in to get these two together, and then you show up out of nowhere all knocked up?! If anyone is wrong here, it’s you, missy! Not to mention, Noah is currently un-freaking-conscious at the moment!”
Ashley shakes her head. “I mean you’re wrong about the details. I am pregnant. But the baby isn’t Noah’s.”
“I…uh…what?” I whisper, nearly passing out. Brooke’s ability to speak is much more developed.
“What?!” Brooke shouts, and I swear on everything, the glass on the hospital windows shakes. “Who the hell’s baby is it, then?!”
Ashley bursts into tears, and without even pausing a beat, Noah groans from behind her.
All three of our heads whip in his direction and find his eyes blinking open. Out of all the time in the world, he’s chosen now to wake up?
“Sammy,” he says through a painful moan, and Ashley runs from the room to get help.
The baby’s not his, and the first thing he said is my name.
Maybe hearts really can be sewn back together.
Noah
Every muscle, every bone, every cell inside my body feels like someone has put it in a blender and hit the highest setting. And when I open my eyes, it takes a concerted effort, along with more blinks than my foggy brain can count, to find focus on anything.
First, I see the ceiling.
And then, the bright-white lights above me.
My head throbs as I move my gaze down the wall and spot a whiteboard that has the words Nurse: Danielle written out in black marker. Did I sleep in a patient room last night instead of my on-call room?
“Is he awake?”
“He’s awake!”
“They’re getting the doctor!”
“Sammy, I don’t think you should be getting out of bed.”
“I’m fine.”
Familiar voices filter into my ears as my brain tries to put the puzzle pieces together. My own body, inside this hospital bed, an IV in my arm, and a hospital gown on my body.
And bruises. Lots of fucking bruises and abrasions down my arms.
What in the hell is going on?
I try to sit up, but a gentle hand to my chest keeps me in place. “Don’t get up yet, Noah.”
“Brooke?” I question when I meet her eyes.
But before she can answer, Sammy steps up beside her, dressed in a hospital gown just like me.
“Sammy?”
“Hi, Noah,” she whispers, and I swear, a sheen of tears coats her perfect aqua-green eyes. “How are you feeling?”
I don’t have time to answer that question, though, because a third woman is now standing at the foot of my bed. A woman who has the power to bring back a waterfall of memories.
Sammy and I were kissing and laughing and trying to make our way into my apartment. The night was perfect. Everything was perfect.
Until I saw her standing at my door.
“I’m pregnant,” Ashley said. “And we need to talk.”
The rest of the memories are fuzzy as they come in.
Sammy walking away. Me going after her.
The sidewalk. The street. The cab.
All I remember after that is sprinting out into the street and the loud sounds of brakes and metal crunching, along with the initial shock of pain that vibrated through my body as I tried to hold on to her with all my might.
Without hesitation, my gaze locks on Sammy again, and I search over her manically, checking for injuries. She looks banged up with bruises like me, but she’s standing. That has to be a good sign, right?
“I’m glad to see you’re finally awake,” Brooke announces with a soft smile.
Finally awake? As in, I’ve been not awake for an extended period of time?