Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 154595 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154595 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Then he jumped in and turned the heat on high, uncaring that he was roasting.
All that mattered was Maeve.
Please, let her be all right. Please.
He didn’t care about himself. He’d give up everything he had, if only his girl was all right.
Her throat hurt.
She wasn’t getting sick, was she? There was something itching her nose. She tried to reach up to swipe at it, grumbling when her fingers got caught up in something.
“Careful, baby, don’t do that.” Someone tugged her hand away from her nose.
“Annoying.”
“I know, but it’s there to help you breathe.”
“But I already know how to do that,” she complained. “Been doing it all my life. My throat hurts.”
“I’ll get you some water.”
“Don’t want water. Want choccy milk.”
“Water first,” the voice said firmly.
“Don’t be mean. Choccy milk.” A warning went off in her brain, telling her that there was a reason she should guard her words. But she couldn’t figure out why.
“No choccy milk. It wouldn’t be very good for you.”
She huffed a breath. “No water. Not good for me.”
“It is good for you. And you will drink some.”
“Mean Daddy.”
There was silence and again that alarm went off in her brain, but she didn’t care. He was a mean Daddy.
A straw prodded at her lips, but she didn’t open them. Yes, she might have been cutting off her nose to spite her face. But a fact was a fact. And that fact was . . . oh, she’d forgotten.
Why was she taking a stand?
Oh, right. Water.
Her brain was sluggish. She felt terrible. She was definitely getting ill. And honestly, water sounded quite good right now.
“Open your lips, little girl, and drink your water.”
“Will you tell me I’m a good girl?”
There was a beat of silence. “Of course.”
“Okay, then.” She sucked in some water and it felt like heaven on her dry throat. When she’d had enough, she let the straw go and tried to snuggle into the bed, but it wasn’t very comfortable and she groaned.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t like this. Where am I?” She tried to open her eyes. Everything was blurry. “I wanna go home.”
“Shh, you’re all right. You’re in the hospital.”
“Squish? Where’s Squish? I need him.”
“I’ll get someone to bring him here,” he reassured her.
“Why’m I in the hospital, Daddy?” she asked. “Am I ill?”
“You’re going to be just fine.”
She didn’t think she was. She thought she might be dying. Oh, that was so sad. She didn’t want to die.
“Baby, why are you crying?” he asked.
“I don’t wanna die. Don’t let me die.”
He cupped the side of her face and he was so hot that it burned. But she didn’t care. Because it meant she was feeling something.
“You are not going to die. Understand me?” he said firmly.
“How do you know?”
“Because I won’t allow you to. I will not let you.”
“And do I always do what you tell me to do?”
“Yes.”
“Huh. Yeah, that sounds like me. I’m a good girl. Tell me.”
“So demanding.” He sounded amused.
She just wanted what she was owed. Was that so hard to give?
“You’re a good girl.”
She grunted in satisfaction. Darn straight she was.
“I need an award. At least a certificate. Maybe a gold star.”
“I’ll get you all of that once you’re feeling better. But you have to do what Daddy says.”
“Okay, Daddy,” she said sweetly. As long as what he said was something she wanted to do then they wouldn’t have any issues.
Ooh, she could get a trophy.
“Fuck, you’re still freezing. They need to give you more blankets.”
“Daddy,” she whined.
“Yes, my baby?”
“I needs a song.”
“What?”
“A song. To cheer me up. I don’t feel right.” She didn’t. She felt awful. Like she had a bad case of the flu.
“I’ll get the nurse.”
“Nooo, Daddy. Song. Please.”
“I don’t sing.”
She sniffled. He was being so mean. Why? Why was he being so cruel to her? It wasn’t fair.
“Girl, you’re so naughty.”
She bit her lip. Naughty? But she was a good girl.
“You won’t always get your way.”
Seemed like she wasn’t getting her way right now.
Then he started to sing to her in a low voice. She didn’t know what the song was. Oh, wait, she did. It was a nursery rhyme.
Aww. That was so sweet.
Even if he did have a truly awful singing voice. Like, really, really bad. Still, he was so cute.
Gradually, she drifted back into sleep.
Voices arguing woke her.
“Who the fuck are you? And what are you doing here with Maeve?” Sampson demanded.
“I’m her boyfriend, who the fuck are you? And stop fucking yelling, you’re going to wake her.”
“Maeve doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Immy stated. “At least, I don’t think she does.”
“Maybe you don’t know her as well as you think you do.”
But she didn’t have a boyfriend, did she? Except that voice, it sounded like . . .
No. There was no way he would be here.
“I’m going to call for security,” Jenner said. “For all we know, he’s the one that put her in here and knocked Abe out.”