Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 80176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
I knew she had feelings. I knew that she cared about me.
But people who cared about me always left. Mostly because they were forced to.
It started with my mom. She’d been the one true constant in my life…then she’d died. My sister? She’d been my best friend. But then I’d introduced her to some boys from my graduating class, and she’d started to get into drugs. Which my brother had then resented me for. He’d been my other best friend, but me leading my sister down the path of evil, despite me not intending to do it, had driven a wedge between us.
My sister had kicked the drugs, but I knew that she resented me as well seeing as she’d been indifferent to me ever since.
My brother, at least, tried to act like he cared…well, that is until he arrested me four years ago and watched while I was put into prison for something I didn’t do.
But having this crying woman in my arms was enough to make my entire heart feel like it was exploding from the inside out.
I wanted her.
I wanted her in my arms.
I wanted her under my skin.
I wanted her in my life.
Which meant that she wasn’t the only one having feelings. Feelings that I couldn’t afford to have for her.
Not if I wanted to make sure she was safe.
The people in this town had a hard on for me, and I wouldn’t subject her to that.
No way, no how.
“Let me take you home.”
She clung to me tighter when I went to pull away, and my heart felt so fuckin’ heavy that my breathing was choppy.
“Come on,” I urged, standing up.
When she still didn’t let go, I pulled her up into my arms and then walked around the driver’s side of the truck, ignoring the way my brother continued to watch since he suddenly turned into the nosiest person on the planet.
I got the door open, and I climbed up into the truck with Kennedy still in my arms, slamming the door once we were inside.
“I need you to sit in the seat so I can drive, honey.”
She nodded against my chest but still didn’t move.
So I did the only thing I could do, I put the truck into drive, moved out of the spot I was in and ignored my brother’s glare that clearly said he didn’t approve of what I was doing.
Whether it was driving with her still in my arms or having her in my arms in the first place, I didn’t know.
And to be honest, I just didn’t care.
Not one single fucking bit.
Once parked in the back of the lot, away from prying, unapproving eyes, I held her while she cried.
Her body was so small against mine.
It felt like she was a tiny thing.
Which, I guessed, she was.
She was much smaller than my sister’s five-foot-five height.
I’d say she was probably around five-foot-two, and weighed considerably less than the weight I bench pressed on a daily basis.
My arms practically wrapped around her twice, and goddammit, did she smell good.
Like fucking fruit…apples and something else I couldn’t quite place.
What hurt the most, though, was the way the sobs wracked her tiny frame. The way she shook in my arms, and felt like she would break at any second.
“You’re killing me. You’re killing me, and I don’t think I care,” I whispered into her hair.
Peaches. The other smell was peaches. It was coming from her hair, though, and not her skin.
She sniffled and pressed her nose even deeper.
“My sister’s going to die.”
I closed my eyes as her pain washed over me.
God, I didn’t know what to do or say to make her feel better.
At this point, though, I wasn’t sure there was anything I could do.
I wasn’t God. I couldn’t bring her sister back and magically heal her. I also couldn’t take away the pain.
I literally could do nothing, and I felt helpless.
Something that I told her.
“Just take me home,” she whispered.
I squeezed her tighter.
“Are you sure you want to go home?”
She nodded against my chest.
“Yes,” she exhaled shakily. “Darren said visiting hours are almost over, and tonight he wants to have just the kids there to say goodbye.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
But I also knew, from experience, that if the patient was terminally ill or dealing with life-threatening injuries, that they would waive the regular rules of the ICU if the patient’s prognosis was grim and it was likely that they would lose their battle imminently.
“I’m sorry, Kennedy.”
I practically heard her swallow.
“I’m so tired.”
I smoothed my hand down the back of her head, then back up again, coming to a rest just underneath her ponytail.
Her hair felt like silk in my hand.
“Scooch over, Kennedy.”
She squeezed her hands tight, almost as if she wasn’t going to let go, and then did.
That was when she realized the position we were in, and blushed.