Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 84843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Ashley whimpered. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to look weak.”
“Shut up. You’re fine. You shouldn’t have been doing so much. It’s not good.” I wanted to touch her, to surround myself in her to make sure she was fine.
All that kept going off in my head was how many people died from head injuries. Was it a lot? A little? People died for no good reason, and the thought of Ashley dying, well, it filled me with an anger unlike any other.
She couldn’t die.
“Please, don’t hurt my friend. She’s been through enough.”
“What about you?”
“I’m still alive to talk about it.” She grabbed my hand where I held her cheek. Kisses filled my palm. “For me.”
“You keep asking so much of me.”
“And you do the same in my position. This isn’t Emily’s fault. They came here to be friends.”
The doorbell rang again, and I cursed. “That should be the doctor this time. I’ll be right back.”
I stood and found Emily in the doorway. “Stay with her.”
Without another word, I left the bedroom to go kill anyone else who was at the door who wasn’t a fucking doctor.
Chapter Fourteen
Ashley
I had a concussion.
Between Emily, Earl, Caleb, River, Gael, and Vadik, I was covered for company. I wasn’t allowed to sleep for too long, and I needed rest. Just by going into the kitchen to supervise the mess Earl had tried to call dinner, I’d done too much.
For three days, I stayed in bed.
Earl helped me to shower.
Each person took turns in keeping me company. The men were the most awkward, apart from Earl.
I had no idea what to say to Caleb, River, Gael, and Vadik. It wasn’t like we were ever really friends. I’d done what they asked of me. Seven years, I’d kept Emily safe and happy. Or as happy as I could.
When they sat with me, I ended up reading a book or taking a nap. I was allowed to nap, but had to be woken up every so many hours. It was exhausting.
After an entire weekend, the doctor returned and said I should be fine. I’d shown no other effects. Other than a few cuts and bruises, I was healthy.
This was good news.
“I was so worried,” Emily said, throwing herself at me after I’d dressed Monday morning.
I didn’t know where the men were.
Earl spent the nights with me, but he didn’t sleep beside me.
“I’m starving. How about I make us breakfast?” Emily asked.
I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t mean to be nasty, but you really can’t cook.”
Emily pouted. “That’s no way to treat me after all I do for you.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “I do love you. Don’t you want something you can eat?” I wasn’t going to try to put anything else inedible in my mouth. The food Earl had served me a few days ago had looked … okay. The moment the potato crunched, I thought I was going to be sick.
My reaction shouldn’t have pissed him off. Deep down, I knew it wasn’t about me. He’d been angry at what happened.
There was nothing I could do about that. This went deeper for Earl.
Each time he woke me up, or we spent time together over the past few days, I got a really bad feeling.
I didn’t completely understand it, but I felt like he was plotting something. Nothing too scary for me, I didn’t think.
My thoughts were all over the place. Nothing made any sense to me, not really. All I could do was sit and think about what might be.
“I’d love to eat something.”
I cupped Emily’s cheeks, brought her head to mine, and kissed her. “Good. I wasn’t going to allow you to cook.”
Taking Emily’s hand, I tugged her toward the kitchen, and I was so glad to see all the mess had been cleaned up. No remnants of Earl’s temper.
After going to the fridge, I began to take out onions, peppers, and potatoes. Earl was totally onto something. I thought he might have been going for a potato hash. I wasn’t completely sure since he’d appeared to be lost to his rage.
I hadn’t stopped him.
He’d chopped and diced, thrown stuff into the pan.
I was going to attempt a similar version, just cooked.
After grabbing a pan, I diced the potatoes. I’d already scrubbed them clean the other day and I hadn’t needed them, so rather than throw them away, I’d placed them in the fridge, accidentally. I had a food storage bag somewhere, which I misplaced, where my potatoes should be stored.
I went to the sink and covered them with water, placing them on the stove to begin to boil. I’d keep an eye on them because I didn’t want them mushy.
“I’ve missed this,” Emily said.
I glanced up from dicing the pepper. “Missed what?”
“You cooking. All that is really missing is a cup of coffee or some wine.”