Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 115468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
As she did so, one of the dogs suddenly lunged, my gaze flying to the critter that had caught the dog’s eye. Rory’s shoulder was yanked and she tripped forward, attempting to grab the leashes with both hands. It all happened in a flash. Rory was pulled, all three dogs now riled and barking, the one in the lead—the little lunatic with the Burberry sweater—taking chase after the three raccoons that I registered as a mother and her two offspring.
The squealing, clawing mother raccoon ran into the street with the two tiny raccoons behind her, Rory barely managed to pull back on the leashes hard enough that the dogs came up short, and an approaching car, music blasting from the windows, turned the corner and hit the fleeing mother raccoon.
Brakes screeched.
Rory screamed.
Dogs continued to bark.
And somehow, without even being aware that I’d moved, I was across the street, taking the leashes from Rory as she fell to her knees next to the still racoon.
“Holy shit!” the teenage boy who’d jumped out of his car said, bringing his hands to his head as he looked down at the—most likely—dead raccoon. “I didn’t even see her. She came out of nowhere.”
Rory’s sobs rose as she put her fingers to the raccoon’s neck, obviously searching for a pulse. “The babies!” she howled, pointing to a bush where the two tiny creatures had hidden.
Oh, Jesus.
I tied the still-barking rambunctious dogs to a nearby tree. “Quiet!” I said, making my voice deeper. All three of them stopped barking and lay down, panting with the exertion of just having caused major mayhem and orphaned two baby raccoons.
I squatted down next to Rory and took in the unmoving raccoon.
“I really, ah, gotta get to work,” the teen said.
I’d forgotten he was there. “Go on,” I told him. “It wasn’t your fault, and there’s nothing to be done for this animal.”
Rory’s wails increased, and the teen cringed, backing away to his car, getting in, and pulling off, the loud bass of whatever song he’d been playing fading away. “The babies,” she moaned, tears dripping down her chin.
The babies. I crept over to the bush where they were hiding, leaning in and easily catching them, even though they tried to flee. My God, they were newborns.
Rory dropped her head, her chest heaving as she sobbed. My heart constricted and I felt something akin to panic. Do something. “She…she…she,” Rory sobbed, barely able to catch her breath.
Adrenaline flooded my system, the need to fix this for her a drumbeat of desperation inside me. I very suddenly understood why wars were declared and battles fought, why men donned armor and strapped on weaponry and sailed into enemy territory with a singular mission in mind: fix this. I clutched the two babies who were squirming in my arms and emitting high-pitched cries. “Stay here. Maybe their mother can be saved.”
Rory’s head rose, her tear-streaked face registering blatant hope. That spark of hope propelled me across the street and down the block, the two wriggling babies in my arms continuing to cry loudly and piercingly.
I burst through the front door of the club, members shrieking and diving aside as I ran through the lobby and then burst outside, heading toward the tennis courts where I’d seen Easton Torres, Haven’s brother, earlier. One of the raccoons managed to crawl out of my hand and scramble up my chest, coming to perch on my shoulder.
“What the—”
“Oh my God!”
“Gage, are you—”
“Hi, Mom! I’m fine! Everything’s fine!” I said to my mother who stood gaping at me in her tennis whites.
I rounded the corner, almost colliding with Mrs. Bellamy who let out a small screech as she jumped aside. “Excuse me,” I said. “Emergency! Coming through!” All I could see in my mind’s eye was Rory’s devastated face. Fix this!
“Easton!” I yelled when I caught sight of one of the paramedics who worked at the Pelion Fire Department coming off the court, his head bent as he used the hem of his shirt to mop the sweat from his brow. The pretty brunette next to him gasped and grabbed his arm. “I need you!” I shouted.
Easton looked up, his expression registering shock and some amount of horror, as he took me in, my chest rising and falling with staggered breaths, one baby raccoon cradled between my pecs, the other one having managed to claw its way up my cheek to the top of my head where I held it steady with my other hand. “What the—”
“I have a medical emergency,” I told him.
“A medical emergency?”
“Yes. There was a car accident—”
“Where?”
“Just up the street.”
“Call me!” the brunette yelled after him as Easton started jogging toward the front door. I turned to follow, past the smoothie bar, around the pool and through the lobby.
“Show me where,” he said as we burst out the front door back into the sunshine.