Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
I smile through gritted teeth. Robbie omitted that tidbit of information.
“But her boyfriend just left to grab dinner, and her parents are out of the country, so it’s your lucky day. You can head to room 427, and I’ll give you fifteen minutes before I kick you out and apologize to her for letting you slip past me. She’s having surgery in the morning on her ankle, so please don’t upset her.”
I can’t promise anything.
When I enter the room, Anna’s leaden eyes open, and she blinks several times as if I’m not in focus. I wasn’t sure how I would feel seeing her, but I didn’t expect to feel it in my chest. She’s not an interview or a story; she’s the woman who ran her hands through my hair and kissed me before leaving me forever.
Holding up a vase of flowers, I smile since words fail me.
“Eric?” she whispers.
I set the vase on the windowsill. “Fancy seeing you here. What have you been up to? Just … saving lives?” I turn back to her. Fuck … I’m so nervous.
“W-what are you doing here?”
I clear my throat and prepare my spiel. It’s a good one. Honest and to the point. “The managing editor for Benevolence asked me to get an exclusive interview with the woman who saved two children and their dog from the river after she saw the video going viral. Imagine my surprise when, on my way to the airport, the ME’s assistant sent me the hospital name along with yours.”
But I can’t say it. My words and every memory of her are stuck in my head.
“Eric?”
God, she’s lovely. She’s quite the sight, even in a hospital gown with messy hair and pale lips. “I, uh …” I clear my throat. “I saw a viral video of your rescue.” The second I finish my statement, I internally cringe. It’s not a lie but only ten percent of the truth. I’m working on the other ninety. I’d get to the point if we didn't have a past.
“Viral video?”
Sliding my hands into my pockets, I step closer to her bed. “Of you rescuing the two kids and dog.” My lips twist.
Anna gives me a sad smile, closing her eyes for a brief moment, long eyelashes resting on her pale cheeks. “Eric. Fucking. Steinmann.”
It takes a few seconds to register her words. They’re unexpected. I chuckle, tension fading from my shoulders while that thing in my chest puffs with pride. I’m perfectly content with my middle name being “Fucking” if Anna’s the one doling out names. “Are you on pain medication?” She seems a little loopy.
“I think so.” She sighs. “I never thought I’d see you again.” She gives me a lazy once-over.
“I kinda gathered that after six months of ghosting me. Sorry, it took me a long time to get the message. Hope is rather addictive.”
Whatever hint of a smile she had two seconds earlier disappears in a breath. “I was awful.”
I shake off her comment. “It’s in the past. I’m glad you’re okay. And you’re a hero.”
She presses her lips together for a beat while deep lines crease her forehead.
“The nurse said your parents are out of the country.”
“A cruise.”
I nod.
“You came to see me after three years because of a viral video?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Can’t a guy bring a girl flowers after she does something heroic?” I offer an innocent shrug and a convincing smile.
I’m an idiot. A word-fumbling, half-truth-telling idiot. The words were there, and I said them in my head with confidence and eloquence. Then I had a massive brain fart. I’m sure she didn’t intend to snafu my well-thought-out speech with a single look, but that’s what she did. So if this comes back to blow up in my face, it’s her fault.
Anna blinks several times. It’s slow and methodic, like my brain minus the methodic part. “After three years, you saw me on a video and came here just to give me flowers?”
“Affirmative.” I give her a sharp nod as my half-truths veer off into a straight-up lie. My brain has gone rogue, and I don’t see a reverse switch or a panic button.
Her face morphs into an indecipherable expression. Is she shocked? Shook? Surprised? Happy?
I have no clue.
“Were you…” her teeth scrape along her lower lip “…worried about me?”
This is where I come clean. Coming clean should have happened the second I walked into the room, but seeing her stirred up these weird feelings. I can’t be a cold-hearted vulture searching for an exclusive story, not with our history. So here I am going down a rabbit hole because I don’t want to seem uncaring—which I’m not. How do I tell her that I care about her, as any kind human would, yet I need her account of the story, which I will use to make my editor happy?