Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 72401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
I ignored his comment and walked out of the room, grabbed my jacket off the couch, put it on, and then went out the front door.
I came to a stop beside his bike.
Dammit.
I’d done so well to avoid this very thing two days ago, and now here I was anyway.
Fuck. Me.
I climbed on without waiting for him, and sat back as far as I could so I didn’t touch him.
He laughed at me, and my attempt to keep my distance.
He didn’t try to move me forward.
Instead, he started the bike, pushed it into gear with his foot, and eased forward slowly.
I reluctantly let my body scoot forward until it was plastered up against his, and closed my eyes on the sheer rightness that coursed through me at being pressed against him again.
He felt so damn good.
As usual, he wasn’t wearing a jacket, even though it was nearing the end of February.
It was a cool forty degrees out, but you couldn’t tell by Cleo’s short sleeves that it was anything other than perfect riding weather.
He didn’t even have any goose bumps on his skin.
The back of his head was trimmed neatly, leaving a clean black line of hair that was military precise.
He turned his head, giving me an unencumbered view of his strong, square jaw and the unshaven bristles covering his cheeks.
He looked so sexy with a beard, and my heart only hurt all the more.
Instead of looking at anything else, I closed my eyes again, leaned my face against his t-shirt clad back, and tried my hardest not to cry.
I didn’t succeed.
I cried the entire way to the hospital, only managing to dry it up when he pulled into the entrance.
He stopped next to the ER entrance, barely getting both feet on the concrete before I bailed.
I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
It wasn’t until later that I realized that I left my salad.
Oh well.
I’d rather be fat anyway.
***
Cleo
I watched her run away from me.
Again.
I’d known, going into this two days ago, when I’d asked her out that it was going to be tough to win her back, but I didn’t realize it would be debilitating to see how very much I’d hurt her.
When I’d left her, I thought that it was for the best.
I saw how much being a PJ hurt the other men’s wives.
I knew it wasn’t easy.
I knew the divorce statistics.
I only thought to save her the heartache of being saddled with me.
Being a PJ wasn’t for the timid.
We dropped off into the middle of warzones all in the name of preserving life.
We knew going in that we might not make it out alive again.
The morning I’d left Rue, after the best night of my life, I’d had so many regrets.
However, none of those regrets compared to this one.
Having the woman that I considered mine crying against my back for twenty minutes, because I hurt her, was awful.
I knew her crying was because of me, too.
I knew it from the bottom of my heart.
I was about to put it into gear when I saw a man, wearing the same color scrubs as Rue had on earlier, walk out of the automatic doors of the ER.
I probably would’ve left if he didn’t look like he was planning murder.
And every bit of his venomous glare was directed at me.
This must be the best friend.
I’d asked around about Rue once I realized where she’d gone.
When I’d gotten out of the Air Force four months ago, I’d looked for her, but found her old house empty, and no indication of where she’d gone.
The man I’d tasked to find her had done it in less than twenty four hours.
It’d led me to Christus Health in Shreveport, or CH as the locals called it.
I’d been watching her for nearly a month, getting all my ducks in a row before I approached her. Knowing it wouldn’t be easy.
Two days ago, when I’d gotten the call to transport an accident victim to CH, I’d known that it was time to make my move.
I hadn’t quite planned on her downright not talking to me.
Everything I had planned stemmed on getting her to listen to me grovel.
Unsurprisingly, it looked like it was already time to implement plan B.
Shutting off the bike, I waited for the man to get closer before I spoke.
“I’m fixing it,” I said to the man once he stopped next to the bike.
He was tiny. Like really tiny.
He reminded me of a rabid squirrel.
His brown, shaggy hair was practically vibrating with his annoyance.
“Good,” he snapped. “Cause if you hurt her...”
I raised my eyebrow, waiting for him to finish his sentence.
“I know people,” he finally finished.
I laughed. “Got it.”
I didn’t blame the man.
I blamed myself.
Rue was easy to love.
I knew that.
She inspired every protective bone in my body, and if it was possible, I’d kick my own ass for putting those tears in her eyes.
I just needed time to fix it.
I knew I could.
***
“Hey, Cleo. You ready to fly?”
The pilot and my partner, Cormac Reed, asked.
Mac was a crazy fuck who I’d come to really rely on in the past three months I’d been working for Life Flight.
“Yeah, but we haven’t gotten a call yet,” I observed dryly.
Mac gave me a sardonic look.
He was a big bastard.
Not so much tall as stocky.
He was just shy of the two hundred and fifty pound weight limit required for piloting the EC-135. The EC-135 was the brand new addition to the Life Flight fleet in Shreveport, Louisiana. The newest aircraft could now safely transport up to two patients without fear. In the old helicopter, weight was a major issue. Overloading it could be detrimental.
Previously, there’d been a limit to the weight requirements by not only the crew, but the gear and patients as well. Before, we couldn’t transport more than one patient, and the stretcher size was minimal at best. Now we could fit a full size stretcher¸ and the EMS worker could possibly have another partner for help if it was needed. With the newest bird, we could do damn near anything.