Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 145676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
How utterly absurd.
Robert had decided those looks were more in line with wondering how in the world he and Landon had built such an unlikely rapport. There was no denying the staff regarded Landon as difficult. Robert saw the patient differently. He saw a smart, clever man who didn’t like to work in the confines of status quo—in that, Robert completely agreed. Robert easily recognized the hot-blooded temper. He had grown up with his granddaddy Paulie barking at everyone and everything. The only exceptions to his grandfather’s ire were him and Autumn.
Landon’s fast-paced intellect challenged Robert to keep up when he discussed…well, everything. Robert respected the challenge, saw himself very much like Landon. He just kept his feelings in his head where Landon’s came tumbling out his mouth. Robert would have never achieved what he had if he had just accepted instruction as he’d been taught.
Regardless of how the staff described his and Landon’s time together, the sergeant was becoming his friend. More importantly, Landon seemed to be the therapy source he had been searching for. Landon had a way of opening Robert, slowly helping him see something more than the depression and guilt that had taken over his life. Of course, he understood he had a long way to go to get himself back—if that was even achievable. But the start of something significant built inside him and every bit of him clung to the hope of healing his soul. He was sleeping again, smiling more often, and enjoying the hell out of reading A Game of Thrones. Such a simple form of entertainment that he looked forward to every single evening.
Robert rounded the corner into Landon’s room. He must have been waiting for his arrival, Landon spoke the second he saw Robert. “Look, Doc, I’m not saying you have to bring me dinner every night— Oh hell, yes, I am…” His words trailed off when two physical therapy aides followed right behind Robert inside the room. Skepticism instantly invaded Landon’s expression. “I did my therapy today. Why’re they back?”
Robert couldn’t help his laugh; one he absolutely shouldn’t have let slip free. Landon’s PT was minimal, but still incredibly difficult for his bruised body and most likely painful with his arm still locked in place with the immobilizer brace. His tough, take charge patient had likened the physical therapy to medieval torture and had been scheduled for another round today.
“Don’t worry. It’s not what you think. They’re not here to torture you. The weather’s cooled down. It’s beautiful outside. I thought we’d do something different. I got approval to take you out, if you follow all my rules.” Robert tossed a smug look Landon’s way and cocked his brow in a clear message that he was now the boss. He reached over to pick up the paperback, waving it like a dangling carrot at Landon.
“No way,” Landon gasped, disbelieving.
“I did.” He nodded. Landon’s excitement made him proud of his decision.
“Badass.” Landon extended his fist for a fist bump, one Robert happily obliged. It took a few minutes to load Landon in a wheelchair thanks to his battered body, and the aides helped get him outside. Robert grabbed the bag he’d left at the nurses’ station that held their dinner. The hospital cafeteria had been a little chaotic for some reason today, and he hadn’t wanted to waste one single second of daylight waiting in the long line for the hot entrée. He’d gone with sandwiches, something easy to eat outside.
Robert stepped ahead of Landon, opening the doors wide for the wheelchair to fit through. He watched the smile spread and wonderment fill Landon’s eyes as the evening sun bathed his olive skin in rich light. One hundred percent, he’d done the right thing.
“If I had my choice, I’d spend my life outside,” Landon said, closing his eyes and lifting his chin toward the sun.
“Yeah?” Robert asked, pointing to the aides, then heading for the table closest to them.
“Oh yeah. Even in the hot, muggy summers of Houston, I spent all my time outside. My dad put a tent in the backyard, and I’d sleep out there on the weekends.”
Robert nodded his appreciation to the staff before opening the bag containing his and Landon’s dinner.
“We’d have campouts too in our backyard when I was a kid.” Robert unwrapped Landon’s sandwich, a roast beef hoagie, placing it on his lap for easy reach. “We weren’t really a camping family though. My granddaddy Paulie insisted Autumn and I become one with nature. He’d take us out exploring all the time. He had a tool shop in the back of his house. He showed us how to use a buzz saw once; my fathers had a fit over that.”
“He owned the pizza place in Alabama, right?”
Robert stopped pulling the rest of the food from the bag and stared at Landon. These bits of knowledge, intimate details of his life were growing in frequency, proving what Landon had confessed several times now—that he’d paid close attention to his father’s writings.