Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“I’ll call.”
“Good. I love you.”
“Love you too. I’ll call soon.”
“You do that, and don’t forget to send the picture.”
“That’s not happening,” I mutter, and she laughs again.
“Fine, talk to you later. Tell Colton I said hi.”
“I will, later.” I hang up then I send Rose a text to let her know that everything went okay before I slide the phone back into my pocket. “Nat said to tell you hi,” I inform Colton as we pull into the parking lot for the nursing home.
“You can tell her I said the same when you call her back later to give her all the details,” he says, and my breath leaves on a whoosh. “The volume on your phone is high.” He smiles, and my eyes narrow.
“It’s rude to eavesdrop,” I scold him, as he pulls into one of the guest parking spaces.
“I wasn’t eavesdropping.”
“Whatever.” I try to tug my hand from his, but he doesn’t let me go. Instead, he uses my hand to force me over to his side of the cab. “Colton,” I hiss, right before his mouth lands on mine and his tongue slides between my parted lips. I don’t fight the kiss. On the contrary, I tip my head to the side and give as good as I get, which means we end up making out in the cab of his Suburban for a good ten minutes before he starts to slow the kiss and pull away. “I need to go in and see Grandma,” I tell him when my eyes finally open to meet his.
“Yeah.” His voice is deep, and the sound of it dances across my skin, making me want to crawl into his lap and kiss him again. “We should go.”
“We should.” I nod in agreement, but neither of us moves to pull away or gets out. We just sit there, looking into each other’s eyes. I finally get my breathing under control, along with my heartbeat, and even though I don’t want to, I loosen my hold on his shirt, where my hands are wrapped in the material, and lean back. “We should go in. I want to make sure she eats,” I say, and he nods, releasing my hand.
Grabbing my purse, I open the door and jump out, and by the time I make it to the back bumper, he’s there holding out his hand to me. I take it and lead him inside to the front desk so they can buzz us in.
As soon as we make it down the hall to Grandma’s room, we both enter at the same time to find her sitting up in her chair with a tray of food in front of her with the lid still covering it.
“Hey, Grandma,” I call, and her eyes come to me and she blinks. And for the first time in over a week, I get a small smile. “This is my friend Colton,” I tell her while taking off my coat and dropping it to the end of the bed, along with my bag.
“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Colton says, and she looks at him and smiles again. Tears of relief and happiness start to fill my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. Instead, I pull the lid off the tray to see that tonight’s meal consists of mashed potatoes, cut corn, and what looks like meatloaf.
“You haven’t eaten anything. Are you not hungry?” I ask, pulling a chair up next to her and picking up wrapped silverware off the side of the tray.
“I could eat,” she tells me, and more relief washes through me as she takes the spoon from my hand. Feeling Colton pull another chair close, I sit there and watch her take one bite and then another.
“How are you feeling today?” I ask her after she takes a sip from the cup of apple juice on the tray.
“Okay, I guess, but I still wish they would let me out of prison. I didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t know why they are keeping me captive.”
“Grandma, this isn’t prison.” I feel guilty, because it kind of is like prison, even if it isn’t. “You’re at Morning Point Nursing Home,” I explain gently, and she looks at me then around the room. I can see the wheels turning, but I know she still doesn’t understand when she looks at me confused.
“Why?”
“I—” My words come to an end when a tall, good-looking black man wearing scrubs and sneakers comes into the room.
“Sorry, I didn’t know Mrs. Ricci had company,” he says, stopping just inside the door and across the room from us. “I was just coming to help her eat, but I see you have already started doing that.”
“Yes, sorry,” I tell him, and he smiles.
“Don’t be. It’s all good.” He gives me an easy smile. “I’m Stan. I’m one of the aids who works here. I just transferred over to evenings.”