Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
So I did.
And I hated every fucking minute.
We won, but not because of anything I’d done to help. It had been one of the worst games I can remember playing.
The team plane was not set to leave until the morning after the game. As luck would have it—and I’m talking about piss-poor luck—there were no flights available for me to take by the time we finished the evening game, so I hadn’t been able to get to the airport early. I’d been stuck waiting to catch the team plane back to Phoenix. Luckily, the plane left early this morning.
It was a two-hour-and-ten-minute flight. By the time we taxied and I was able to get an Uber, I didn’t make it to the hospital until almost ten. I jump out of the Uber without saying a word, slamming the door behind me. I make a mental note to go back and add a tip for him, but truth be told, I will probably forget until the next time I log into the app for a ride.
I rush through the hospital, trying not to bowl people over in my haste. Regan’s room is on the seventh floor, and I choose what must be the slowest elevator in the entire world.
I half walk, half trot through the halls, searching for her room until I finally come to it.
7209.
I realize I’m actually panting. While some of it might be that I’m a bit out of breath from my rush to get up here, I can tell by the pounding of my pulse that it’s also anxiety.
I don’t know if I’m prepared to see her in a hospital room.
With IVs sticking out of her arms and the beep of machines.
In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m terrified.
I take a deep breath in through my nose, then let it out slowly through my mouth. I do this two more times until I actually start to feel a little calmer, then push her door open.
She doesn’t look as bad as I had built up in my mind. A little pale, with dark circles under her eyes, but when she sees me, I’m hit with a bright smile and her teasing, “Well hello, Mr. Monahan.”
A huge wave of relief hits me so hard my knees feel a little weak. I shore up by concentrating on the kernel of anger deep in my gut that she’s lying there in that bed, battling a disease she doesn’t deserve.
Willow sits in the corner in a recliner chair covered in blue vinyl. She’s surfing on her phone, but glances at me with a chin lift. “Welcome home brother.”
I walk to Regan’s bedside, putting my hands on the rail to lean over and brush my lips across her forehead.
“How are you doing?” I ask as I pull away to see her.
“I feel much better from the transfusions,” she says reassuringly. “They’re probably going to keep me for another day just to make sure I’m out of crisis.”
I straighten, scrubbing my hand through my hair, and the anger in me flares a bit. “How did this even happen? Does this mean your treatment isn’t working? Because if that’s the case, I want my thirty-five-thousand back and I’ll find something else that works.”
Regan’s eyes go soft with understanding. She knows I feel lost. “The treatment is working fine. It’s doing what it’s supposed to be doing. But you have to remember, all it does is decrease the risk of my red blood cells being damaged. Unfortunately, infections can cause this to happen. The upper respiratory infection just tipped me over into crisis.”
That is not what I wanted to hear.
“Is this going to happen again?” I demand.
She shrugs. “It could. Or it may never happen again.”
I growl at her lackadaisical attitude. Turning away, I pace. I give an angry glare at the opposite wall before pivoting to face her with an incredulous expression. “How are we supposed to live with that?”
None of this is fucking fair.
Regan gives a small sigh. “You mean how are you supposed to live with it? I already live with it every day, Dax. I’ve made my peace.”
I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say to that. I think I’ve actually been put in my place, but I’m not sure I was really out of my place. Willow pushes up from the recliner, then starts around the bed toward me. She puts her hand on my upper arm, then starts pushing me toward the door.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
She glances over her shoulder at Regan before saying, “We need to talk.”
With a huff of frustration, I follow Willow out of the room and into the hallway. She gently pulls the door behind her until it clicks shut. My sister turns, puts her hands on her hips, and scowls at me angrily. “What the hell is wrong with you?”