Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 85342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Julia steps in front of me now. “I’m her caseworker,” she responds, her voice tight and strong. “You can throw insults at me. You can stomp your foot and throw hissy fits until you are blue in the face. At the end of the day, Penelope is my main concern.” She stands tall. “I look forward to the home visits.” She turns to the security guards. “There is no father listed on the birth certificate, so unless he comes forward, this is her next of kin.” She looks at the man. “You have five minutes.”
“Fucking bitch,” the woman mumbles as her husband ushers her forward.
“Wow,” Emmanuelle says, shaking her head and walking with them.
“You okay?” I ask when it’s just the two of us.
“I’ve been called worse,” she tells me, not looking at me. “Abigail is in there.” She motions with her chin. I look at her, not sure I understand what she said when I look at the room and my cousin Abigail comes out.
“Jeez,” she exhales, looking over her shoulder. “She has hair just like Grandma Parker. I wonder what Sunday dinner is like at her house.”
“Did she say anything to you?” I ask her and she shakes her head.
“No, Emmanuelle told me to leave, but while I was leaving, she told Penelope her mother is dead.” She closes her eyes. “All Penelope said was mama.”
I don’t have a chance to say anything because the grandparents come out of the room. “Watch yourself,” Stacey tells Julia right before she walks away from her.
Julia doesn’t say a word to either of them and only when the door closes behind them does Abigail say something. “Eat glass,” she spits, turning around going toward Penelope’s room.
I look over at Julia and see her shoulders slumped a bit as she shakes her head, looking down and laughing. “Are you okay?” I take a step toward her, my hand coming up to hold her elbow.
“You mean, did what they said hurt?” she asks. “More than I will let them know. But I have to focus on Penelope now.”
“You know there was nothing you could have done,” I assure her, and I’m about to say something else when the phone rings in my back pocket. I pull it out and see it’s Anthony, the equipment manager. “Hello,” I say when I slide the button right.
“Hey, we need you at the rink,” he replies, and I look at my watch to see it’s close to eight. “Tristan got here early and decided that he was going to go on the ice by himself. Idiot pulled something and was screaming for help.”
“I’ll be right there,” I say, disconnecting the phone. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”
“Go on. I’m going to be here for a bit. Knowing Stacey, she is going to file for emergency custody before she asks how her daughter died.”
The pit of my stomach hurts when I nod at her. “Will you call me if you need anything?”
She shakes her head no and I roll my eyes. “Listen, what you did last night was a lot more than you needed to do.”
I put my hands in my pockets before I do something stupid like touch her face. “What happened last night?” I ask her, playing dumb.
“Don’t you have to go put on your cape and go save someone else?” I can’t help but laugh at her. “Go.” She moves her head toward the door.
“I’ll call you later,” I say and instead of walking out right away, I take one more look at her and then leave.
I get into the car and make my way over to the rink, the whole time my head is still on Julia. I park the car at the same time Cooper parks his truck. I get out and look over and see the passenger door open and Dylan steps out. Michael gets out of the back door and I just shake my head.
“It’s like a car of clowns.” I clap my hands. “Is Wilson in there?” I move my head to the side and wonder if the other door will open.
“Wow,” Cooper says, walking around the car and he looks at me. “You look like proper shit.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Is that so?”
“You look like Thor on a bender,” Dylan declares and we turn to walk into the arena.
“I was on shift at the hospital,” I remind them.
“Oh, did you bring home a nurse,” Michael says, “to kiss your boo-boo?” I push his shoulder and he smashes into the wall.
“You’re the only one who gets a boo-boo that needs to be kissed,” I say, and the three of them head into the locker room while I go down the hall toward my office. I toss my keys on the desk and then walk over to the treatment room.
“Okay,” I say, walking in and seeing Tristan sitting on one of the examination tables. He’s out of his hockey gear and in team shorts and a shirt. “Who has the big boo-boo?” I joke with him. Tristan is one of the rookies on the team, drafted by Dallas two years ago, he just started playing with the team this year. “So, tell me what happened.” I walk over to the sink and wash my hands.