Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
I would be letting him down if I didn’t.
Handing the gun to someone, Mex reaches for me and scoops me up into his arms. Turning, I see Fury standing at the door, his eyes on me. They move to my shoe, which is soaked in blood. I don’t know how bad it is, but considering blood is dripping from it as Mex moves, I would say it’s probably not good.
“She needs a hospital,” Fury tells Mex. “We’ll deal with this. You go.”
Mex nods and strides out the door with me in his arms.
It’s only when the sunshine from the outside world hits my face, that reality truly sinks in and the pain appears in my body like a violent storm, crashing in and consuming me. My brain had blocked it out before, and now, it’s all I can think about. Crying out, I clutch Mex, looking up at him with desperation in my eyes. “It hurts. Mex. It hurts so bad. Please make it stop.”
“Hush, it’ll be over soon.”
Burying my face into his chest, I cry out as the throbbing pain shoots up my leg.
Mex takes me to his truck, but I can’t see what’s happening around. Somehow, they knew where to find me. I don’t know if Marek had a hand in that, or if they followed me. Either way, Mex was what I needed most in that moment, and he was there. His words replay in my mind, over and over, and I pray that he meant them. I’m terrified he was simply saying what he needed to make it all stop, but I’m clutching onto the hope that this might actually be something worth living for.
Placing me in the back seat, Mex looks down at me as he pulls the seatbelt on, maneuvering it as best he can over my body. Our eyes meet and without thought, I reach up and curl my hand around his cheek, cupping it and feeling the rough hair there. He turns his head into my hand slightly. “Tell me what your real name is?” I murmur, my eyes flickering as unconsciousness threatens to take over.
“Tai,” he whispers, low, running a finger over my lips.
“Well Tai,” I close my eyes and exhale, “I think I might love you.”
“Yeah,” He murmurs. “I know, honey.”
With that, the pain is finally whisked away by darkness.
At last.
17
I wake in a hospital room with my foot slung up in a device, fully plastered. There is no one around, and for a moment when I open my eyes, I feel scared and alone. The dull beeping of the surrounding machines is a stark reality check of the situation I’m in. Raising my arm, I look down at the drip in my hand and a few other lines attached to me. I have no idea what they are or what they do.
“Oh good, you’re awake.”
Turning my head, I see a woman walking into the room wearing scrubs and holding a clipboard in her hand. She smiles at me, and I try to return it. I have no idea exactly how that smile comes across, but I do know that I gave it my best shot. Stopping by my bed, she reaches down and checks a few things while asking my name, date of birth and a few other mundane questions.
“You’ve been in and out of consciousness for the last twelve or so hours,” she explains, “you had quite the ordeal. Your foot was a mess, but the doctors are confident the surgery went well.”
“How long have I been here?” I croak.
“Nearly a full day,” she explains, “how is your pain?”
I shift slightly, but I don’t feel too bad. There is a dull ache in my foot that is almost constant, but it isn’t unbearable.
“It’s dealable,” I tell her.
She nods and writes something down. “That’s wonderful. We will keep up the medication, though. You were in quite a lot of pain the first time you woke up.”
I don’t remember that at all.
“Tai is here waiting for you. He hasn’t left. Should I go and get him?”
Tai?
Oh. Wait.
The last conversation with Mex comes back into my mind.
He told me his name, and I told him I think I love him.
I could cringe.
“Yeah,” I say. “Let him in.”
“I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake and tell him he can come in. Is there anything else I can get you?”
I shake my head.
“Perfect. We’ll be back soon.”
She leaves the room, and only a minute or so later, Mex walks through the open door. He looks exhausted. The moment I see him, I know he hasn’t slept. He is still wearing the same clothes, and his blue jeans have some of my blood marking the fabric. Still, the relief in his eyes when he sees me awake is enough to make my heart do silly things. It has a real fit when he walks in and leans down, pressing his lips to my head and holding them there for a long, blissful moment.