Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 60234 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60234 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Her eyes go wide. “Me? Quit? Never.”
I cross my arms, annoyed at whatever the fuck this is. “Then tell me what’s going on. Now.”
Her gaze darts around again before she lets out a long exhale. “Let’s talk in your office.”
Reluctantly, I follow her to my office and sit at my desk, hands folded as I wait for her to spill her secrets. “Sophie, I’m not having the best day.”
She nods, swallowing hard. “This morning, I went out to search for Sherry. She missed her appointment, and I’m worried she’s using again.”
It was a common worry among many of our patients, but Sherry is young, pregnant, and addicted, so I understand her concern. “You didn’t find her?”
“No,” she sighs. She removes her glasses and tosses them on my desk. “I found a woman stumbling through the streets in bloody, ripped clothing. I brought her here, and she’s doing better. Healing emotionally and physically.”
I lean forward, resting my chin in my hands. “What aren’t you telling me, Sophie?”
She flashes a smile, shaking her head. “You’re too astute,” she accuses, pushing away from the chair. “Follow me. Please.”
I stand and follow her on wooden legs, sucking in a deep breath as I prepare to take in another of the lost patients we care for before sending them back out into the shit storm that brought them to us.
Sophie pushes open the door to an exam room we never use for anything other than storage and steps inside, revealing a small figure sleeping on the bed sandwiched between boxes and defunct testing equipment. “I know I should have told you, but she made me promise I wouldn’t.”
Maggie. She looks so fucking frail and small that I just want to scoop her in my arms and let her know she’s safe and protected. But I don’t do that. I just stare at her curled up on the bed, her brows dipped in worry, even in a deep sleep. I turn to Sophie, confusion swimming in my eyes. How the hell did Maggie get here, and why didn’t she want me to know she was at my clinic?
Sophie smiles as if she just gets it, gripping my shoulder with a sympathetic smile. “Good luck,” she whispers, leaving me alone to examine Maggie carefully.
I take a seat on a box beside the bed, grabbing Maggie’s hand in mine, holding it close because I’m so goddamn happy to see her alive and safe. Even in sleep she looks scared, and I grip her hand tighter, holding it against my rapidly beating heart. Where in the fuck did I go wrong with her?
Why would she rather face the danger in the world on her own than with me at her side? She has bruises all over her face and a cut on her forehead, telling me she encountered some kind of trouble since she left the protection of the MC. What happened to you?
I clutch her hand and pull it to my lips. My heart pounds against my chest as anxiety takes hold of me. What had she gone through last night, and why didn’t she call me for help?
Because she doesn’t want some scarred biker, who refuses to work on himself.
My grip loosens because I know the truth, and it has nothing to do with my PTSD or anything else. I can’t force Maggie to stay with me if she doesn’t want to. If she’s going to stay, it has to be her choice.
Not mine.
Her hand squeezes mine, and I look up at her beautiful, scarred face. “Nova?”
“Maggie,” I growl. “It’s so fucking good to see you.”
Maybe it’s not too late after all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Maggie
I open my eyes to the most beautiful sight in the whole fucking world.
Nova at my side, smiling and looking as if I’m the best thing to ever happen to him. His hand clutches mine against his chest, and something that looks a lot like relief flashes on his handsome face.
“Nova,” I whisper, my voice groggy from a deep, healing sleep. I run my hands through his hair and tilt his head back to stare at his beautiful face, the days’ worth of stubble on his jaw, and those deep blue eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“I work here.” He flashes a relieved smile, removing my hand from the side of his face to kiss my palm. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I did battle with my former friends. Again. But good,” I let him know. “Better now that you’re here. I missed you.” It’s sappy as fuck, and normally I’m not sappy, but I’m also tired and injured and really missing my man.
Or the man who would be my man if I let him. If I wasn’t such a pussy.
“I’ve missed you too, Maggie. So fucking much.” He grips my hand in both of his and brushes a kiss against my knuckles. “Why did you run? Again?”