Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“Lean forward,” I instruct. “I’m going to use this conforming gauze roll to wrap around your torso and keep it in place. It’s self-adhesive, so we should be good so long as it stays dry.”
Kellen sits up and slightly lifts his arms. Carefully, I place some of the gauze roll over his bandage and then roll it around his back. This puts our faces close and I can’t ignore the way my stomach tightens in response. Now’s not the time to get hot and bothered by this man.
Focus, Tyler.
I manage to finish wrapping him up without accidentally pressing my lips against his. Based on the heated look in his eyes, he couldn’t exactly ignore the fiery connection that sparkled between us just now.
Clearing my throat, I sit back and clean up the mess I made before stuffing the kit back into my bag. Once I settle into my spot beside him, I feel much better about his wound.
“Sorry I can’t offer any pain relief,” I say once the light is turned off, once again bathing us in darkness.
He leans his head against mine. “I’m good now.”
Grinning, I take hold of his hand again. “Yeah, me too.”
“You’re a grade-A asshole,” Hope hisses, snapping me awake. “It should have been you down there who died. Not them.”
Kyle’s lip curls up and he sneers at her. “Fuck off, Barbie.”
Gerry gives her a slight shake of his head. Her nostrils flare in anger, but she doesn’t say another word.
“What’d I miss?” I grunt out, side-eyeing Kellen.
He glowers at Kyle and mutters, “He was just saying how Brian getting cut on the vending machine was distracting. That he could have gotten more food if he wasn’t so focused on worrying about him, which, in the end, was a waste since he died.”
Kyle, ignoring everyone, strokes his fingers through Barb’s hair. This guy is a dick, but he doesn’t deserve to die for it. No one does. Yet, if he keeps antagonizing Hope, she might feed his ass to the sharks.
Hope busies herself distributing water bottles to everyone but Kyle. I guess she figures he can fetch his own water. She then passes out several packs of peanut butter crackers for breakfast. Elise clings to her side, no longer crying but nearly catatonic. We all eat our meager rations in silence.
I’m pretty sure I hear the dog yapping again in the distance, but a rumble of thunder silences it. Waiting around for help or until the bad weather passes is getting old. It’s boring and claustrophobic around here.
“Hashtag?” Kellen asks, running a finger over my forearm. “Who tattoos a hashtag on their arm?”
I snort out a small laugh. “Not a hashtag.”
Kellen smirks, lifting a brow in question. Rather than answering, I reach over and dig around in my bag until I find an ink pen.
“Tic-tac-toe.” I grin at him as I draw an O in the center of the grid. “When me and Jesse were younger, we went to a lot of court hearings where Aaron was trying to get custody of us after our parents died. They were boring as hell. We’d play tic-tac-toe on our arms to pass the time.”
Kellen takes the pen from me and leans in closer. “You’re always the Os?”
“Always.”
His hand curls around my forearm, holding it in place as he slowly draws an X in the top left of the grid. Electric pulses dance across my skin from his touch.
“I didn’t know your parents were dead,” Kellen says, waiting for me to place my O somewhere. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I say with a scoff. “They were moon maniacs. Dad literally shot Mom and then offed himself because of it.” Anger blossoms in my chest at the thought of them. “He wasn’t brave enough to take us out too.”
“Fuck,” Kellen utters, shaking his head. “That sucks.”
I shrug my shoulders. “Life’s better with just me and my brothers.” A bitter laugh escapes me. “Well, it was.”
He doesn’t offer any more condolences, which I’m grateful for. Losing my brothers is too hard of a topic to think about right now. We take turns until I beat him. Then I lick my thumb before rubbing off all the ink. Again, we play another round. Over and over, we play, our moves pretty evenly matched, neither of us carrying a big winning lead over the other. It reminds me of my brothers in a good way rather than a depressing one and passes the time, which I’m okay with.
The dog starts yapping again in the distance. I break from our game to glance at Kellen.
“Jesse always wanted a dog, but the landlord where we live won’t allow one.” I crane my neck to listen for the sounds of where the dog might be. “Hey, I think it stopped raining.”
“Should we go onto the roof and take a look around?” Kellen asks. “See if we can survey the damages without the storm trying to take us out?”