Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 48187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 241(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 241(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Her body relaxes as she leans her head against my shoulder. “Fine.”
This time, I like the word. I like it a lot.
Lauren
Oranges and pinks light up the sky as night chases the sun into hiding. My world calms as I watch the sunset. It’s the one thing that reminds me most of Mom. We’d sit on the back porch and watch it together. Dad and Landon don’t have the patience for it. Now that she’s gone, I haven’t watched one with anyone. Sitting with Daniel feels right and peaceful.
“It’s okay to let people help you,” he says softly. “I want to help you.”
Pain cuts through my chest and I suppress a sob. “I thought it’d go away.”
His hand finds mine and we thread our fingers together. It feels anything but friendly or doctorly, but the connection warms me, so I cling to his hold on me.
“Thought what would go away?” he asks, brushing his thumb over my hand. “Tell me.”
“The constant pain. The headaches. The blood.”
“Blood?”
I tremble as I shrug. “Yeah.”
“In your urine?”
Oh geez. It’s easy to forget he’s an ER doctor when he’s sweaty, holding my hand, and watching a sunset with me.
“Yep.”
He pulls away slightly to burn his intense green eyes into me. “Lauren, you need to see a doctor about this.”
I let out a harsh laugh. “Looking at one right now.”
He flashes me a crooked grin. “Smartass.”
“Better than being a dumbass,” I argue with a smile of my own.
I’ll take playful banter over serious health talks any day of the week.
“Will you make an appointment to see your physician? Please?”
“Yeah,” I utter. “I guess.”
“Good,” he says, letting out a harsh breath of relief. “We’ll exchange numbers and I can check up on you. I’d feel better about that.”
My eyes drop to his full lips, lingering for a long moment before finding his eyes again. “Were you serious about just being there to talk?”
He leans forward, and for a split second, my heart leaps hoping he’ll kiss me. Instead, he rests his forehead to mine. “Absolutely. We’ll go back inside and exchange numbers. Maybe even meet up for dinner one day to catch up.”
I smile. “Sounds an awful lot like a date, Dr. Dan.”
“Maybe we ought to get your ears checked too,” he teases.
I swat at him and he laughs.
We missed the sunset, but I don’t mind. Staring at Daniel’s handsome face is pretty nice too.
I suck down a water bottle, but my stomach is killing me. I’m afraid to read up on it on the Internet, so I settle for period pains. Yep, definitely period pains. Too bad I had my period last week.
It’s been two days since I saw Daniel at the gym, and he’s checked on me via text each day. I haven’t reached out to him yet. Something in me implores me to do so.
Me: Whatcha doin’, Dr. Dan?
He doesn’t respond and it makes me wonder if he’s at work. I writhe around on the bed until the urge to pee hits me hard. Groaning, I climb out of bed and stumble to the bathroom. I sit down on the toilet, but the pee doesn’t come. Everything aches and when I finally manage to pee, it feels like a horrible effort. The water clouds with pink, indicating more blood.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
A whimper claws up my throat.
Denial is getting me nowhere.
After wiping and washing my hands, I text Daniel again.
Me: Definitely blood in my urine. Everything hurts.
Fifteen minutes later, my phone buzzes.
Daniel: I’m at work so I missed your texts. Have your brother bring you in.
Me: He’s not here. Movies with Callie.
Daniel: Your dad?
Me: Houston for work.
Daniel: Give me your address.
I stare at the text, shaking my head.
Me: I am not going in another ambulance. I’m fine.
Daniel: So help me, Lauren, next time you use that word, I’m going to spank you. Give me your damn address so I can come get you.
Holy shit, he’s pissed.
With a heavy, resigned sigh, I shoot him my address.
I wake to fingers on my throat, confused at how much time has passed. I must have fallen asleep after texting him.
“Shh. Lie still. I’m checking your pulse,” Daniel says softly, perched on the bed beside me.
I squint at him. Tonight he’s not in scrubs. He’s wearing a white lab coat over slacks, a white dress shirt, and a green tie. Dang, he looks hot.
“Your pulse is erratic,” he murmurs.
“Not my fault you came in looking like a damn snack.”
He doesn’t laugh at my joke. He’s too busy frowning in concerned doctor mode.
“How did your mother die?” he asks abruptly as though the question doesn’t rattle me to my core.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
I roll away from him, pulling my pillow to my face. Hot tears flood my eyes and soak the pillow. The bed sinks and his warm body envelops mine. Strong fingers stroke through my hair in a gentle, comforting way.