Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 53521 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53521 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
“Hello?” I answer, my voice trembling.
“Is this Felicity?” a woman asks.
I look around as everyone stares at me, their expressions a mix of hope and fear. “Yes, who’s this?”
“I’m calling from Saint Pierce Hospital. Your husband, Shepherd, has been in an accident.”
I cover my mouth, my mind unable to absorb anything she’s saying. “What?”
“He’s gone back for a CAT scan but wanted to be sure you were told he’s here.”
“How bad is it?” I ask, clinging to the hope that it has to be somewhat okay if he’s mentioned me, right?
Right?
“I don’t have any information. I’m so sorry, I was just told to call you.”
I nod even though she can’t see me. “I’m on my way.” I hang up without another word and keep staring at the floor. “He’s at Saint Pierce Hospital. He’s been in an accident.”
Muscular arms wrap around me as everyone springs into action. “He’s going to be fine, Felicity. These Atwoods are fighters,” Griffin says, helping me toward the door. “Come on, we’ll drive.”
Everyone piles into their cars, and we head to the hospital. I don’t say a word the entire ride, keeping my eyes closed, trying to will away this nightmare. As foolish as it sounds, I hope that when I open my eyes, I will be lying in bed with Shepherd.
“Felicity, we’re here,” Anya says softly.
I open my eyes, and reality hits as the bright lights of the hospital shine down. My nightmare continues.
Anya doesn’t bother parking the car; she leaves it outside the entrance, telling them to tow it if they have to. Paxton, Hartford, Tripp, Callum, and Brock rush in behind us, all talking, trying to piece together what happened. But none of that matters to me. Right now, the only thing I care about is knowing how Shepherd is.
We reach the desk, and I feel like my legs are going to give out, so I hold on to it for support. “Shepherd Atwood,” I manage to say.
The receptionist types away at the computer as Anya wraps her arm around me. “You’re not alone, Felicity,” she whispers.
I just nod, my eyes fixed on the woman in front of me.
“He’s in the emergency room. Go through the double doors, take the first right, and you’ll see it,” she instructs.
I step away from the desk, and everyone follows me, a silent procession of worry and hope. As we reach the doors, a nurse stops us. “I’m sorry, but only one person can go back at a time.”
Anya gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. “Go ahead, Felicity. We’ll be right here.”
Taking a deep breath, I nod and walk through the doors, my heart pounding with each step. The sterile scent of the hospital fills my nose, and the hum of fluorescent lights buzzes overhead. Each step feels heavier than the last as I make my way to the emergency room, dreading what I might find but desperate to see Shepherd.
I don’t wait for anyone. I keep moving and push through the double doors. When I reach his room, I quickly wipe my tears and take a deep breath before opening the door and stepping inside.
“Sir, please, you need to stay until you have your results,” a nurse insists.
“Shepherd?” I ask, my voice trembling.
He snaps his head toward me, and I see the relief in his eyes as they meet mine. “My girl is here. You can go wait for my results now,” he says, directing his attention to the nurse.
She shakes her head with a small smile as she walks toward the door, but stops in front of me. “That man was ready to leave with a possible broken rib to get to you. You’re one lucky lady,” she says kindly.
My eyes swim with tears as I look from her to him. “Come here, baby,” he says, holding out his hand to me.
I make my way to him, and the tears fall as his warm hand wraps around mine. “I was so scared,” I cry out, my voice breaking.
“Oh, baby, I’m sorry. Come here,” he says, pulling me closer to him.
I carefully rest my head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat, just so I know he’s all right. The steady thump under my ear is the most comforting sound in the world right now.
“I have fought since I’ve been here to get ahold of you. I told them I needed you to know where I was, but they kept telling me I needed tests first. I’m so sorry,” he says, kissing the top of my head.
“I thought I lost you,” I admit, my voice muffled against his chest as I cry.
“Never. You’ll never lose me,” he promises, his voice firm and reassuring.
After a few minutes, I finally get myself under control and sit up, holding his hand in mine. “What happened?”
“This truck tried to pass me and hit me. I lost control and hit a tree, but I’m fine. They said possibly a broken rib, but I’ve had worse happen falling off my bike as a kid,” he reassures me with a wry smile.