Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Getting up from the chair in the corner of the small room, he came over and put a hand on my back. “You’re okay.”
I looked up at him, dizzy with fear. “Don’t leave.”
“I won’t. I promise.” His voice was calm and reassuring. “You don’t have to be scared.”
“I’m not scared,” I said, my voice cracking.
“I know you don’t like needles.” He rubbed my shoulder blade.
“How do you know that?”
“I heard you say it once. It stuck with me.”
The doctor, a woman with dark skin and close-cropped hair, worked quickly. It was over in a few minutes, and when I was bandaged up, the nurse gave me discharge instructions.
“Keep the finger dry for forty-eight hours,” she said. “After that, you can shower. No baths. Wash the area gently a couple times a day, and keep it elevated when you can. No strenuous activities that would cause it to reopen.”
“When can I get the stitches out?”
“One week,” the doctor replied, washing her hands at the sink. “You can take over-the-counter meds for pain, but if the pain gets a lot worse or you see signs of infection—the nurse will give you a list—come back right away.”
“Got it.” I nodded. “Thank you.”
“No driving tonight.” The doctor turned around, drying her hands on paper towels. “You might be drowsy from the pain meds.”
“I’ve got her,” Dash said. “I’ll get her home safely.”
His hand was still rubbing my back.
It was almost ten by the time we left the hospital. Dash wanted me to wait at the doors while he pulled the car around, but I insisted on walking through the parking lot with him. I needed the fresh air—my head was spinning.
At his SUV, he opened the passenger door for me and helped me in. “I’ll run you home now and go back to get your car later,” he said, buckling my seatbelt for me again. “Xander can follow me, and I’ll drop it off to you.”
Oh, God. My car.
It was an embarrassing piece of shit with like ten different problems I couldn’t afford to get fixed. If you went seventy on the freeway, the steering wheel shook. It made a whining noise when I turned right. The check engine light had been on for months.
I did not want Dashiel Buckley to drive it. But what choice did I have?
“Okay. Thanks.” I looked up at him. “I’m sorry if I ruined your first night home. I’m sure you didn’t want to spend it watching me get stitched up in the E.R.”
“I mean, it’s not the most fun Saturday night I’ve ever had, but I was glad to do it.” He smiled and shut the passenger door, giving the roof of the SUV two thumps.
Or maybe that was my heart.
He got behind the wheel and started the engine, and I gave him directions to my house. “Nice,” he said as he pulled into the driveway. Putting the car in park, he leaned forward to peer out the windshield at the small, two-bedroom ranch.
He probably lived in a mansion in Beverly Hills with a swimming pool and gourmet kitchen. Marble countertops. Viking range. “It’s getting there,” I said. “I got a good deal because it needed work.”
“Who’s doing the work?”
“I’m doing as much as I can, but actually, your dad has been helping me too. My dad tries, but he has a bad back.”
“I’m glad my dad is helping you. Gives him something to do.” He leaned back again. “I’d like to see the inside sometime.”
“It’s a little late,” I said, mostly because I’d left the house kind of messy. After my shift at Moe’s, I’d intended to get some painting done, but instead I’d fallen asleep face-first on the couch, accidentally keeping the promise I made to my mom earlier. I’d woken up with just enough time to change my clothes and run over to the Buckleys’ house to feed the dog. “And I have to be at the diner at six.”
“I don’t mean tonight,” Dash said. “But maybe while I’m home. I’m in town for a month.”
“Oh, wow.” An entire month of having to deal with his close proximity. Seeing him around town. Maybe pouring him coffee at the diner while my poor heart ached, just like old times. “That’s a long time.”
“Yeah, I was already coming home for Devlin’s wedding, and since I haven’t been back in a while, I just decided to make it a more extended visit. Spend some time with my dad.”
“Sounds nice.” Unbuckling my seatbelt, I opened the car door and got out. Dash hopped out too and quickly came around to my side, guiding me with an arm around my shoulders up the front walk. “Dash, it’s just a cut finger,” I said. “My legs aren’t broken.”
“I know, but I promised the doctor I’d get you home safely.”
We climbed the two wooden steps onto the porch—which needed a fresh coat of paint—and he handed over my keys. “Do you have an extra key for your car?”