Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 54383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
“Just say a few months then.” He sighs. “And please stop feeding updates about Tully to social media. It’s not fair to Easton.”
“I have to make sure her accounts stay active so her followers won’t forget about her.” She pauses. “And so they’ll keep donating.”
“I think we have enough by now.”
“That’s rich coming from you.”
“Is this for your online followers’ best interest or hers?”
“Excuse me for not wanting to rip my daughter from the world so quickly.” My mother snaps. “I’m sorry I can’t be more like you and stick my dick in a mistress whenever I have problems.”
Silence.
“Yes I know all about you fucking Renee Davis this year,” she says. “You can keep screwing her for all I care and run off to whatever plans you two have made together, but you can’t do it until after the girls recover and their accounts are active for six months.”
“What?”
“I need to make sure I have enough content to stretch out past their discharge date.”
“You’re a real piece of work, Hannah.”
“I know. I’m a fucking masterpiece.”
40
EASTON
Scarlett
I hate the way you look at me in between classes. You make it so effin obvious.
Do you have to tap that hard on my window? I know it’s you…
Why can’t you stay away from me? Better yet, why can’t I stay away from you?
I’m officially losing my mind. I’m sitting in a chair next to Scarlett and reading our text message threads from last year.
Still dressed in my football uniform, I couldn’t care any less about today’s record breaking 75-12 win. I hit the field, played my best, and hauled ass to get back to her side.
“Please say something, Scarlett,” I caress her hand. “Please.”
Her response is the same as always.
Silence.
The only other noise in this room is the steady beeping from the machines.
“Well, well, well. I should’ve known,” a deep voice says, making me look up. “But I guess I needed to see it with my own eyes.”
Jeremiah is standing in the doorway, holding a bouquet of roses. He steps inside and sets them on Tully’s table.
“It took me a minute to figure this out, but you’re the ‘on and off again boyfriend’ that Scarlett told me about, right?”
“Yes.”
“Figures…” He takes off a backpack and places it on the couch. “Your clothes for this week are in there. You’re welcome.”
“Thanks. Did you bring Coach’s notes from today’s game, too?”
“You’re joking, right?”
“No.” I let go of Scarlett’s hand. “I could use a good distraction.”
“Dude you had an eighty eight percent completion rate today,” he says. “The only thing Coach said about you was ‘leave him the fuck alone.’”
“Noted.”
He looks over at Tully and sighs. “I hope you’re talking to her as well while you’re here.”
“I am.” I nod. “I tell how her fucking sorry I am for not telling her the truth every day…”
The next day, I force myself to walk around the hospital’s campus. I’m in desperate need of fresh air and conversation.
The only people I find are doctors smoking near the delivery dock, though. Even then, they’re engrossed in conversations about surgeries, and I need a break from that, too.
I head toward the freight elevator that leads to where all the janitors hangout, but a woman’s shrill cry stops me dead in my tracks.
Rounding the corner, I spot her banging her head against a vending machine and arguing with a police officer.
“My son can't stay here for one more day?” She cries. “Surely there are more tests that need to be done.”
“The doctors say he’s cleared and fine, so no.” The cop’s voice is flat.
“I’m his mother and I’m telling you that he’s not fine. And I really don’t appreciate such short notice regarding an arrest. It’s not necessary.”
“Ma'am, your son nearly killed two people, and one of those people is connected to one of the most high profile college players we’ve had in years… He's lucky he only has a concussion and a few fractured bones. He’s also lucky that no one from the university knows where he’s been recovering all this time.”
My blood begins to simmer.
The elevator doors glide open, but I don't get into the car. Instead, I step back and lean against the wall.
“Nearly killed,” she says. “That means those two young ladies are going to be alright after they recover, correct?”
“That's something that only the sheriff and the prosecutor know at this time.”
“But you're the sheriff, sir. My son didn't kill anyone. It was an accident.”
“His blood alcohol level was six times the legal limit.” The sheriff's voice is terse. “They had to pump his fucking stomach before they could get him into surgery.”
“He still didn't kill anyone.” She pleads. “What if those girls were drinking too? I bet they were at the same party he was and the spiked punch snuck up on them, too.”
“Stop talking, Miss. You need to focus on getting your son one hell of a lawyer. We’re fulfilling the arrest warrant in Room 236 at noon.”