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 don’t have an answer for you. I wish I did,” she says, then the fingers of her other hand touch my chin. “Let me get a look at that.” She forces my head back to inspect my neck. “She got you good,” she mutters, and I start to reach up to touch my throat but she stops me before I can. “Don’t touch it.” She rips open an alcohol pad, and I wince as it burns my torn skin. “You gonna be okay, kid?”
“Yeah.” I lower my head when she’s done and attempt to smile, but I know she doesn’t buy it when she shakes her head at me.
“I know this isn’t easy for you.” It’s not easy for me, but at the same time, it’s worse for my grandmother, who’s living in a world that no longer makes sense to her. A world where everyone is a stranger. I can’t imagine what that must be like. “Go home, take a bath, and get some rest,” she instructs, and I give her a nod before she leaves the room.
I feel Stan stop close, so I look up at him.
“I’ll keep an eye on her tonight. She’ll be okay.”
“Thank you,” I tell him, and he squeezes my arm then disappears out the door. Walking across the white tile floor, I take a seat in the chair pulled up next to Grandma’s bed then reach over the railing and wrap my hand around hers. Her eyes are still open, but she doesn’t acknowledge me.
Dropping my forehead to my arm resting over the bedrail, I start to cry. It takes a long time for me to get myself under control, and when I finally do, Grandma’s eyes are closed. I pull in one more shaky breath as I stand and lean over the bedrail, pressing a kiss to her wrinkled cheek. “I’ll be back tomorrow. I love you.” Her fingers tighten around mine as I speak, and I pretend she knows who I am and that she’s saying “I love you, too” before I let her go.
Pulling up in front of the Rusty Rose thirty minutes later, I put my Jeep in park then get out. I called Colton as soon as I left the nursing home and told him what happened. Before I even got done speaking, he told me he was going to come home. I reminded him that he couldn’t leave; it’s Saturday, and everyone works Saturday, including his parents. That’s when he told me to get my ass to him so he could see for himself that I was okay. His reaction isn’t a surprise. He’s been worried about me. He doesn’t have to say it, but I can see it in his eyes whenever we talk about my grandmother.
I open the door to the bar and am greeted by the sound of people having a good time and loud music. It’s not a surprise the place is packed. Since the weather started to warm up, it’s always packed. Making my way through the people gathered here and there, I head toward the bar, and the minute I spot Colton, his eyes lock with mine and fill with worry. Taking my hand once I’m close, he pulls me with him into the office then closes the door behind us.
“You’ve been crying,” he accuses once he’s turned around to face me.
“I’m okay,” I tell him, and he shakes his head, pulling me into his chest, wrapping one arm around my back and the other around my skull.
I circle my arms around him, fighting back a fresh wave of tears. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have let you drive like you are. I didn’t even fucking think.”
“I’m okay,” I repeat as I tip my head back to look up at him, and his hand slides to wrap around the side of my neck, making me wince.
“Jesus.” He tips my head back farther and his eyes zero in on the three claw marks on my neck. “She did that to you?”
“She didn’t do it on purpose,” I defend, and his face softens.
“I know that, baby,” he replies gently. “From now on, I’m going with you when you go to visit her.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“From now on, I’m going with you,” he repeats roughly, and I don’t argue, because I know that tone and understand it would be pointless. “I’m so sorry.”
“Me too.” I drop my forehead to his chest. “I hate that she’s suffering. I mean, I know she’s not in pain, but still, what she’s going through seems worse,” I say, and he doesn’t agree or disagree; he just holds me. I need him to hold me. I feel safest when I’m in his arms, safest when I’m with him. “I should let you get back to work,” I sigh after a few minutes, and his hold tightens.