Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
I hadn’t noticed, to be honest. It barely hurt.
“I think I’m still riding the adrenaline,” I admitted.
“You’re in good hands, son,” Willie told me. “But you best get that sorted right quick.”
Ty nodded firmly. “Yeah, I hope you’re up-to-date on all your shots.”
“I am,” I chuckled. “I’m fine.”
It was as if they didn’t hear me. Ty acted like it was an emergency, and Willie shooed us off, saying we—or he and Ty—could talk tomorrow morning. Before I knew it, we were back in the golf cart, and Ty threw his equipment in the back seat at the same time as he started the engine.
“You take care now, boys!” Willie hollered.
“I’m taking you to the boat instead,” Ty said. He offered a two-finger wave at Willie and backed out. “My good suture kit is there.”
He had a bad one too?
“Are you sure I need stitches?” I asked. Ironically, I was starting to feel the pain now, but it was more of a throbbing ache. My arm felt warm too, which I mentioned to Ty.
He furrowed his brow and drove a little faster. “Perfectly normal, but we wanna minimize risk of infection. And yeah, you’ll need stitches. I saw the way that one claw dug in.”
Maybe he was right. I wasn’t opening my temporary dressing to find out just yet.
“Either way, tonight was fun.” I still had some excitement buzzing within me, and I didn’t know what to do with it. It made me feel a bit restless and antsy.
I called them leftover emotions. Just “dealing with the leftovers,” kind of. Because I didn’t process them like most people did. In my world, there was no such thing as simmering down and letting the emotions be put to rest. I needed an outlet. Emotions had to come out.
“I definitely wouldn’t’ve caught the damn thing without you,” he said. “He had to be nearly five feet.”
I smiled in an attempt to keep the shit-eating grin at bay.
The man knew how to drag me between feeling ten feet tall and like shit. It all depended on if he talked about Marina’s history with guys or as a reptile-catching sidekick.
“So one giant anaconda and one giant monitor,” I said. “All in one day. Would you say that’s common?”
He laughed quietly and shook his head. “That’s the first anaconda I’ve caught west of Everglades City, and the monitors only recently started migrating to the islands. Of the invasive species, we usually only get iguanas and pythons.”
I couldn’t wait to catch both of them.
4
Lane Sawyer
By the time we got back to the boat, I could admit my arm was hurting like a bitch.
We’d arrived at the boardwalk from the other direction, going straight from abandoned dirt road to private marina, small as it was. Ty parked next to a row of beach huts or fishing huts or whatever, and he ushered me to a set of outdoor showers next to them.
“I’ll be right back with the suture kit. You can wash your arm,” he told me. “Water’s clean.”
“Okay.” I’d wash more than my arm. I was freaking covered in soil and sweat. “Hey, can you bring a towel too? I’m just gonna go ahead and shower.”
He nodded once, then headed for the boat. I was fairly certain I could see it from here, about ten or so boats down the dock.
The two shower stalls looked very nice, all concrete and blue mosaic, so either this was a private initiative, or the county knew good maintenance. I stripped down to my boxer briefs, careful not to use my injured arm, and then I—
“Oh. Hi there.” I spotted something slithering on the floor of the shower stall. “Aren’t you a beauty?” I didn’t need more than the dim lights of the boardwalk to identify the corn snake. It must’ve been resting right atop the drain cover because I hadn’t seen it at first.
I bent down and gently picked it up. “I love Florida.” Some called corn snakes boring and too common, but I’d always loved them. They were as cute as they were beautiful, with their dark red and brown scales. This was an adult too, so it was by no means tiny. I estimated about three feet.
Knowing they were pretty wary of people, I sat down right there on the boardwalk and gave the snake the option of escaping.
“I gotta buy a house down here,” I murmured. So far, the snake only showed curiosity. It coiled itself around my knee and didn’t shy away when I brushed a finger over its head. “Better yet, a boat.”
The snake peered up at me, and its forked tongue came out to gather scents.
I smiled.
Seconds later, I heard—and felt—the footfalls of Ty’s return, but I didn’t move.
I was busy.
So was the snake. It slithered up and around my non-injured arm and flicked its tongue on the way.