Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Nothing to worry about. It’s a trauma response.
Her memories should come back.
Memories. Should. Fucking should? I need more than fucking should.
“You, you’re a student, right?” I bark, causing her to shrink back. “You don’t get to learn on my…” I shake my head. “Where’s Dr. Mumford? I want the head of the fucking department not some first-year.”
She deflates, stuttering, but I don’t care. She’s not my priority, Mina is.
The low hum of hospital sounds thrum in my ears as I ask for the hundredth time if they’ve run every possible test. Taken every precaution.
“Yes, Mr. Sanders.” The head of Neurology, Dr. Denise Mumford, nods, releasing the terrified resident, and takes over outside the closed door to Mina’s private room. “It’s not usual, but it happens. You said she is terrified of the water. The slight bump she took isn’t enough for concern. Her brain is…” She tips her head back and forth, crossing her arms. “It’s protecting itself. It’s psychological. Not neurological. I can have Dr. Ozmec, the psychiatrist, come back to talk to you again. Explain—”
I wave my hand then run it over the top of my head. All I want is to get back inside the room where I hear Mina singing Simply the Best by Tina Turner at the top of her lungs. She’s never going to win American Idol, but normally she’d never sing where anyone outside of our family could hear her. She was asleep still when I stepped out here to talk to the other doctor but she’s awake now and I want to be with her.
“No,” I groan, weary because unlike Mina, I’ve been up all night. As she slept, I kept an eye on the monitors every second. “But I want your cell number and Dr. Ozmec’s. If there is one flicker of anything in the next couple days, I’m fucking calling you both and you better come running.”
She nods. “I wrote the numbers on the discharge paperwork myself. Oh and…” I spin toward the door, tugging the cool metal handle, the throb down low reminding me of what a perverted asshole I am. “That was an amazing eighty-yard hail Mary in the Cotton Bowl. You brought it home. Go Trojans!”
I shake my head, squinting at the dark-haired woman. Who the fuck cares? Have I been reduced to this one moment in my life? I’m a fuck for being grumpy about everyone bringing it up all the fucking time but especially right now when Mina could have fucking died. If I wasn’t there…what could have happened?
I shake my head, leaving the doctor and stomping through the door, fighting off the thoughts of the could be’s and what if’s, determined to not waste one more fucking second of my life on anything that doesn’t work toward the only thing that really matters.
Mina being mine. In every way possible.
And today, now, here, somehow it feels like I could make that happen. Our parents are in South Africa on their second honeymoon, a trip booked so long ago there was simply no way my dad could avoid it without telling my stepmom the truth. They’re not even on the same continent, which means they’re not around to stop whatever is about to happen between their two children. What started last night with my little sister’s hand on my dick.
If only she hadn’t slipped and fallen into the pool...
Back under the bright lights of the hospital room, she looks so small in the bed my heart clenches in an invisible fist. Each breath is agony, thinking of her under the water, struggling for her own, but she flashes me a smile that releases the knots in my chest. I unclench my fists as she waves like she’s having the time of her life.
Once the doctors gave me the test results, assured me they were all clear, and moved us to the room, I’ll admit I leveraged my ‘celebrity’ status to get into the closed gift shop and damn near emptied it of every flower and stuffed animal they had.
Now, wearing the shitty blue hospital gown, Mina is surrounded by teddy bears, unicorns, frogs, dogs, cats and every other plush thing I could buy. And I swear, even with what’s happened, she’s the happiest I can ever remember. The room smells like roses and lilies but somehow it’s her scent that rises above it all.
She sits up when she sees me, crossing her legs Indian style, the blankets lowering on her thighs and, fucking forgive me, but they stripped her and I see a flash of that pink dream between her legs before she tugs at the faded blue gown, stuffing it in the bowl of space in her lap.
“Oopsie.” She pouts, a blush rising up on her cheeks. I gave up an hour ago on feeling bad about being hard again. Once they were sure she was safe, my dick was rampant and ready like usual when I’m close to her, only it’s worse. I could have lost her and seems my dick is aware of that fact as well and is done with any sort of politeness. “I’m not wearing any panties,” she whispers, feigning embarrassment, and the groan that rumbles from my chest makes her eyes widen.