Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 39300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
I hate you! I wish were you dead.
Go to hell and butt out of my fucking life.
That fucking argument with my parents mixes with the argument with my grandfather, creating a riptide threatening to drag me under. I can't think through it. I can't breathe through it. I'm just fucking drowning on dry land.
Right up until Tempest places her hand on my arm, pulling me out of the dark. Anchoring me.
I look down at her, my chest heaving. "Tempest, I…" The words stick in my throat. I don't know how to fucking explain.
But I don't have to explain. Not to her. "Go," she whispers, cupping my cheek, understanding shining in those amber eyes that see right fucking through me. "Go to him. I'll be right here waiting for you."
I jerk my head in a nod, dragging her into my arms. My mouth comes down on hers in a desperate kiss. I pour everything I feel for her into it—down to my goddamn soul. That's hers. It's been hers all along.
And then I wrench myself away, rushing back to the car, praying to fucking God that I don't lose the old man. That the last words I ever get to say to him weren't coated in rage and hurled in defiance.
Please God, don't let me be too late…
I pace the sterile hospital hallway, my heart jackhammering against my ribs. The cloying scent of sickness and grief coats the back of my throat, threatening to choke me.
Guilt gnaws at me like a rabid, ravenous beast. He had a fucking stroke because I pushed him too far. Because I'm a stubborn asshole who never learns. We never should have been arguing like we were. He's too goddamn old for this shit. If I lose him…
Christ. I'll never forgive myself.
A nurse hurries past, and I practically lunge in front of her, forcing her to stop. I've been here for an hour already, and no one will tell me a fucking thing. I'm sick of it.
She blinks up at me.
"My grandfather, Denver Grady," I growl. "Is there any word?"
"Oh." She glances down the hallway. "Um, the doctor should be out to talk to you soon, Mr. Grady."
"Everyone keeps saying that," I grit out, shoving my hands through my hair. "But no one will tell me a goddamn thing."
Empathy shines in her green eyes. "I understand. Waiting is always the hardest part. But I promise you, he will be out soon."
I stare at her, not sure I believe that. But I'm not getting anything out of her…just like I didn't get anything out of the nurse who passed by fifteen minutes ago.
I sigh, stepping out of her way to let her by. She shoots me another look full of empathy and then scurries away.
I resume pacing. Worrying. Lost in a sea of fucking guilt and regret. Jesus Christ. I'm not supposed to be this man. I'm supposed to be one worthy of Tempest. And yet…here I fucking am, as big an asshole as ever. The old man is in a bed somewhere in this goddamn emergency room because of me.
And he was right. None of this is what my parents would have wanted for me. Tempest is what they would have wanted. Love and happiness is what they would have chosen for me. It's what they always wanted for me—what they had.
Now, I have it. And it's fucking terrifying. But the only thing more terrifying than loving her…is losing her.
I can't do that. I have to fix my shit. That's the man she deserves. Not half of one. Not pieces of one. Not one clinging to the past or shackled by guilt.
Starting today, right fucking now, that's what she's getting.
Footsteps sound behind me and I wheel around. A doctor in scrubs heads toward me, wariness etched into every line of his face. "Dalton Grady?"
"How is he?" I rasp, my hands in fists at my side.
He stops in front of me…and he fucking smiles. For the first time in hours, I feel like I can breathe.
"He suffered a minor stroke, but your grandfather is going to be just fine, Mr. Grady," he says. "He's demanding that we release him, but we're going to be keeping him for a few days to keep an eye on him."
Relief crashes through me, nearly buckling my knees. I sag against the wall, sucking in a shaking breath. "Thank fucking Christ. Can I see him?"
"Of course. He's been asking for you." The doctor pauses, chuckling. "Actually, he's been demanding to see you since he was rolled through the doors. He's mad as hell that we wouldn't let you back there until we were done with our tests. Follow me."
I jerk my head in a nod, following him down the hall on wooden legs, seeing nothing.
He stops outside a door a few minutes later. "This is him. I'll let you two have some privacy and pop in later to check on him. Good luck," he says before strolling away.