Total pages in book: 296
Estimated words: 284055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1420(@200wpm)___ 1136(@250wpm)___ 947(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 284055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1420(@200wpm)___ 1136(@250wpm)___ 947(@300wpm)
I’ve never felt this kind of panic in my life, and I’ve had many reasons to up to this point but watching her heartbeat flatline on the monitor has me gasping for air. I can’t seem to catch my breath between the tears and screaming.
Dad’s arms wrap around me from behind, holding me tight to his body as I scream for Rylie. Hysterically, I watch as they use the defibrillator and shock her chest.
I still remember the way her hair smelled. She was obsessed with everything pink and strawberries, so anytime I smell something fruity, I immediately think of her.
Watching Rylie battle for her life was painful. During her good days, she’d smile up at me, and I swear she was stronger than me through it all. She always made sure I was okay, which was crazy because I wouldn’t be okay until she was cured. Even then, I’d always fear the worst anytime she’d get a fever or a cold.
Memories flash through my mind of everything we went through for all those years, and when it was time to choose my career, I knew without a doubt what I wanted to study. Hell, I’d been experiencing it for years. The rest was just textbook stuff that I knew I could learn, but being at someone’s side while they were in their most delicate state was something I knew I could and wanted to do.
I went to nursing school, more determined than ever to soak up any and all information. Mom and Dad fought and grew apart and eventually divorced. Our family was broken, but I wouldn’t let it take me down. Even when I failed to stay strong, thoughts of Rylie always kept me focused. What she endured proved she was always the strongest of us all.
CHAPTER ONE
ALEX
I watch the early morning fog roll over the hills as I walk across the pasture toward the barn. There’s something about waking up before the roosters crow or the sun rises that gets me going. Maybe it’s because ranch life is ingrained in me, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“What the hell?” Dylan shouts, carrying grain in buckets for the horses. I glance down at his boots and can’t help but laugh as he stands smack dab in the middle of a steaming pile of fresh shit. He groans as he slides his boot across the wet, dew-soaked grass, but there’s not much hope for his boot.
Dylan’s mom and mine have been best friends since they were both kids, so we met when we were in diapers and have been inseparable ever since. Every summer since high school, he’s worked for my father until it became a full-time gig. He’s become my partner and sidekick around the ranch, though he’s definitely not the greatest influence. He’s always up for anything regardless of the consequences, which has gotten us into plenty of trouble over the years.
“You should be happy you didn’t trip and fall face first in it,” I tell him, chuckling. “It makes for a pretty shitty day.”
“Sounds like you’ve fallen a time or two.” He snorts, knowing damn well I have. Dylan struggles with smearing the crap off the sides of his boots because his hands are full.
“One time, after tripping and being covered in cow shit, Jackson refused to let me go change. Basically, had to stay like that for the entire day. Eventually, it dried, but I swore I could taste it in my mouth for days.”
“Jackson can be such an asshole,” Dylan says with a laugh.
“It must be a Bishop thing.” I chuckle.
Once we’re inside the barn, we dump the feed into tubs for the horses in each stall, then head down to feed the pigs, chickens, and cows. By the time we finish, the sun is barely peeking over the horizon, and I know we need to get a move on if we’re going to finish our tasks on time. Though feeding the animals happens every day, what we do afterward that changes on a weekly basis and is usually discussed over breakfast with my father every Sunday morning.
Dylan and I make our way to the east side of the land where we’ll be replacing fences along the property line. It’s physically laboring work, but I don’t complain. I enjoy the hard tasks even when it feels like it’s going to kill me. I was born and bred to be a Bishop, and I’ve been helping my parents around the ranch since I could walk. One day it’ll be my and my three brothers' responsibility to manage, but for now, we all have our own tasks to focus on to keep everything running smoothly.
We drive down the old county road along the pasture, and from a distance I can already see a group of workers pulling metal pipes from the back of a lowboy and laying them on the ground. As soon as we park and walk up, I can tell Evan, my oldest brother, is in an agitated mood just by the attitude and stink face he’s wearing. His hair is a blond mess as pieces stick to his forehead and cheeks from the sweat.