Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 135958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“You in there?”
He lifted his head when we were about five inches from impact.
“Oh!” He skidded to a halt, and his dark eyes widened.
I should’ve moved. I saw him coming, but this wasn’t a normal situation. I was starting to feel like I had to do everything the opposite of normal just to see what would happen—if an opening to run would occur or anything. At least that’s what I told myself. The truth might’ve been that my reactions were slow, really slow, and as I’d tried to move aside for him, my body had begun to shake. A wave of light-headedness had come over me, and I swear I felt my eyes roll to the back of my head.
“Whoa.”
A thud sounded, and two hands grabbed my arms, keeping me upright as I started to waver.
“She needs to sit down.”
A chair scraped against the floor, and I sat on it. The hands grew gentle, soothing. They felt nice after the shock of everything. He knelt in front of me, and I felt his breath on my face. He lifted one of my eyelids open.
“Tanner,” he said over his shoulder. “I told you to give her something to eat and drink before making her walk through the house.”
The guy was right in front of me, and getting even closer. A light appeared, and he began inspecting my eyes, one after another.
“Uh...”
I caught sight of Tanner’s elbow in the air. He was raking a hand through his hair again. His hood slipped off.
“I did. I thought I did? What do you want her to have?”
“Any kind of juice you prefer?” the guy asked.
He paused.
I realized he was asking me. “What?”
“Juice.” He put the light away and began feeling my neck. “What’s your favorite?”
The fridge popped open. “We have orange juice, apple, prune? Why the fuck do we have prune? And grapefruit,” Tanner said. “We have grapefruit juice too.”
They waited for my answer.
“Oh! Uh, orange juice is fine.”
The guy in front of me, his fingers now pressing over my carotid for my pulse, said, “Give her a piece of toast too. With some honey. She needs her blood sugar up. Are you diabetic, Riley?”
He said my name like he knew me.
He did look familiar…
His skin was a slightly darker tone, but he had the same black hair, dark eyes, and full lips that all of the Bennetts had. His hair had a little curl to it, and he seemed younger. Or maybe it was the gentleness I felt from him. He had a baby face too, with a softness to his skin.
“Jonah?” I asked.
He was the baby.
He nodded, grinning slightly, but with a flash of sadness in the depths of his eyes.
“Hi, Riley. I’m sorry we’re meeting under these circumstances. And especially after last night. The shock of what Kai did, mixed with how much you were vomiting and the fact that you hadn’t eaten or drank much the whole time they were driving you, gave you a seizure—induced by the drop in your blood pressure and blood sugar levels. Are you diabetic?” he asked again, picking up a small machine and lifting one of my fingers. He squeezed just beneath the tip and poked the machine into my skin.
“Hey.”
He put the machine away, setting it aside. “Your color is coming back, but you’re dehydrated.” When the coffee machine started whirring, Jonah scowled at Tanner. “That’s not for her, is it?”
Tanner had two mugs in front of him. “Uh…maybe?”
Unzipping his bag, he pulled out a stethoscope. “It better not be. She needs liquids. Juice and water are all she can drink, at least for a while. If everything turns out to be induced by shock and not something else medical, she can have the coffee later.”
He moved aside my shirt, just an inch, and pressed the stethoscope to my chest.
“Are you the medic?” I asked, as he put the other end in his ears.
Kai had called for one last night.
Jonah held firm for a second before moving the stethoscope to the other side, and then behind me. He folded it back up and put it away in his bag a moment later.
“No. I’m not.”
Tanner smirked, watching us from the kitchen.
I took in Jonah’s rigid shoulders as he moved in front of me again. “Did I upset you by asking that?”
“Not at all.” But his tone had cooled. He motioned to my shirt. “I’d like to press on your stomach. Would that be okay?” His gaze found mine. “Are you pregnant?”
I blanched. “No!”
Shit. Was I? But no. That was a ridiculous question. There’d been a Tinder date six months ago, but that was the last time I’d needed to fulfill those types of needs. I wasn’t a prude, but I enjoyed sex in a relationship. And because of my job, meaningful relationships were few and far between. Over the last five years, I’d dated two guys, and both relationships had ended after eight months.