Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 136791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
"Fuck. Don't know how I survived seven years of not seeing those eyes. It's been five days, and I'm about to lose it," I mutter, not sure if I'm talking to her or to myself. Laying her hand back down, I grab my chair and drag it closer to her bedside. Once I'm settled, I lay my head on the mattress beside her arm and close my eyes.
Sleeping in a hospital is next to impossible, but I refuse to leave. When they stop by, Roman and his girl, Mila, bring me food and coffee. Mariah is here after work every day to spend a few hours with my girl. She usually brings me dinner and forces me to eat before she kicks my ass out until I shower.
There's a family waiting room, complete with a laundry room and showers, right outside the ICU. Leaving January's side for even that long stresses me out, but I'm not about to go toe-to-toe with Mariah. She's little, but I'm pretty sure she could kick my ass. Mostly because I'd let her do it, but also because I'm pretty fucking certain she's kin to Superwoman.
I must doze off because the next thing I know, someone's running their hand through my hair, pushing it away from my forehead. I imagine it's January and snuggle closer like the greedy bastard I am, not willing to give up the soft feeling rolling through me. It's peaceful and warm, and I haven't had much of either since Kaleo shot her.
"Ca-ade," a little voice croaks.
My eyes fly open, and I jolt upright.
January's emerald eyes are open, focused on me. Her pupils are dilated, confusion and distress dulling the normally bright color, but she's still so goddamn perfect it brings tears to my eyes.
"January," I whisper, choking on her name.
As soon as I speak, tears spill down her cheeks.
"No. No. Don't cry, baby girl." I scoot closer to the bed and cup her face between my shaking hands. "Everything is okay. I'm right here."
Her gaze flits across my face, her distress seeming to grow.
"You're in the hospital," I tell her, guessing that's part of the problem. She doesn't know where she is or what's going on. I remember waking up in the hospital after being stabbed the first time, panicking because I didn't know what the fuck was going on and I hurt like hell. I nearly busted my stitches trying to climb out of the bed. "Do you remember what happened?"
Her nose scrunches, and then she nods hesitantly. "K-Kal-eo?"
"Yeah, little monster," I whisper, wiping tears from her cheeks with the pads of my thumbs. "Kaleo shot you. You're going to be okay though. Please don't cry."
I don't mention the part about her killing him. If she asks later, I'll tell her the truth, but for right now, she doesn't need to think about that. She doesn't need to think about anything except healing so I can take her home.
She nods, but tears continue to spill down her cheeks. I'm not sure if she's just overwhelmed or in pain, but I reach for the call button and hit it to get her nurse in here. Now that she's in the step-down unit, the nurse isn't stationed right outside her door at all times.
"Are you thirsty?" I ask while we wait.
She nods again and licks her lips, grimacing.
I'm not sure if she's actually allowed to have water, but they have one of those standard-issue pink pitchers full of ice on the bedside tray, so I grab it and pour a little bit of the cold liquid into a Styrofoam cup, plop a straw into it, and then help her take a small sip. She tries to drink too fast, and I have to pull it away.
"Slow, little monster," I murmur when she narrows her eyes on me. "You gotta go slow."
I put the straw back to her lips and she takes a couple more sips before dropping her head back down on the pillow. Her eyes never leave my face, but she keeps blinking like she's trying to stay awake.
"Are you in any pain?"
She shakes her head and then nods. "A little bit," she whispers. Her voice is thin and raspy. She grimaces. "Throat hurts."
"You were on a ventilator for a little while."
Her eyes widen, filling with distress once more.
"Hey, it's okay." I lean down and brush my lips across her forehead, lingering there for a long moment. "Everything is going to be okay, I promise."
"Okay," she whispers.
"Miss James," her nurse says, bustling into the room. "It's good to see you awake, hon. I'm Dee, your nurse." She's middle-aged, with wide hips and her hair up in a tight bun. Her tawny skin gleams in the fluorescent light. "How are you feeling?"
"Hurting," January mumbles, reaching for my hand as Dee switches off the call light and starts checking over the IV bags and lines still hooked up all over the place.