Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 136421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 682(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 682(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
ARCHER
I've been at the hospital with Everleigh for the past four days, sleeping in a chair that’s as hard as pavement. Then again, I would’ve slept on the floor if it meant being close to her.
Tyler’s been suspicious of my protective behavior since this happened. Regardless, I can’t bear to be away from her for too long, especially after almost losing her. Having her blood on my hands as she slipped in and out of consciousness has been a total mind fuck.
The last time I was this worried was the night I got arrested. I’d do anything to protect my sister, and I feel the same about Everleigh. She didn’t deserve this, and I hope to God that I’m not the cause of it, but I could be. Lexie’s words have been playing on repeat along with what that crazed woman said that night—what do you have that I don’t?
Yesterday, while Everleigh was resting, I went home and installed motion-activated security cameras around the house. Each corner has one along with a brand-new doorbell cam.
I don’t know what else that woman is planning, but I’m not willing to take any more chances.
“You’d think they would’ve already brought the discharge papers so I can leave.” Everleigh groans as she flips through TV channels. She’s growing impatient and has been since the doctor said she’d be released today.
“I know,” Tyler agrees. “Are you sure you don’t need me to take you home?”
“No. My car is more comfortable. Archer can drive it,” she tells him with a smirk.
“Okay, okay,” he says. When Tyler heard Everleigh would get to leave today, he left work and came up here. He’s offered her tons of support while she’s been in the hospital and even kept her company while I went home yesterday.
“The next time I’m at a hospital, it better be because Gemma is giving me another niece or nephew,” she says matter-of-factly.
Tyler shakes his head. “I’m trying! Trust me! Gotta let my little fellas do their job.”
Everleigh pretends to throw up in her mouth. “Please don’t talk about your little…nope, no. Just make it happen. Without the details, please.”
I chuckle, loving their dynamic. While Tyler is a protective hard-ass most of the time, it’s also obvious he cares about his sister. After this scare, we’ve all grown closer.
A food service worker enters the room with a tray of food for Everleigh.
Everleigh looks down at her lunch. “I’m supposed to be leaving.”
“You were on my drop-off list, so I’m sure they’re still working on getting the sign-offs. As soon as they’ve got it all taken care of, they’ll let you know,” he explains before walking out.
Everleigh looks down at the chicken that’s white as paper. Next to it is a green mush that I’m sure is overcooked broccoli and another side of what I assume is mashed potatoes. “And I just lost my appetite. Either of you want this?”
“Nope,” I blurt out. “Looks worse than what we were served in prison. I’ve had enough gross food to last me a lifetime.”
Tyler bursts into a roar of laughter. “Holy shit, you’re right. There’s not enough ketchup in the world that would make that taste good. Is there even any seasoning on it?”
“No,” she says, appalled. Everleigh rips the foil off the top of the apple sauce. “At least this can’t be messed up. I draw the line at instant sweet tea. Like you know it’s supposed to be sweet tea, but it tastes like dirty water.”
I make a face, and it brings me back to the nasty coffee the prison offered. Hard pass.
Moments later, Everleigh pushes away the tray, and a cop enters.
“Please tell me you have my release papers,” she tells him, and that’s when I notice it’s the same guy who took the report the night of the accident.
“No, ma’am. I’m Officer Proctor. I’m glad to see you’re awake this time.”
“Am I under arrest?” Everleigh teases. “At this rate, it might be the only way for me to break out of this place in a timely manner.”
“No.” He chuckles. “I’m here to get a statement from you so we can finalize the report on your case. We take this violent act very seriously, and we’d like to find who’s responsible for doing this to you. We’ve gotten some information from your roommate already, but now that you’re awake, I wanted to see if you could add anything that might be helpful.”
“I only remember the night before I was attacked. It’s like my memory was erased.”
“Traumatic experiences typically do that,” he explains, then pulls out his card. “If anything comes to mind, please call me. We ran the license plate to figure out who it’s registered to, but it’s under an LLC, so we can’t determine who’s been driving it. I’ll contact you if we find anything else out.” He reads out her cell number. “Is that correct?”