Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 72616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
"You have to." I shake my head.
"With the women in my family, you have to learn when to pick your battles." He looks at me, walking over to the pie and cutting a piece. “And this is a battle that one, I know I’m going to lose, and two"—he shrugs his shoulders—“I don’t want to." He walks over to me, and I see his eyes crystal tonight as he smiles and hands me the plate. “Hopefully, you will be able to eat a bit more by tomorrow."
I look down at the pie in my hand. “Where is Shirley?" I ask him, and he looks back at me as he walks over to grab another piece of pie for himself.
"She clocked out two hours ago. Doris is here.” He turns to look at me from head to toe. “Do you need anything? Are you in pain? Is it your head?"
"No, I’m fine. I was just wondering if I could have some juice,” I say, then I look down. “It’s fine. I’m good with water."
"I’ll be right back," he says, walking out of the room, and I want to kick myself for even asking. I take a bite of the pie, and as soon as it hits my tongue, I close my eyes.
"This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my whole life,” I say to myself, taking another bite, and then I look up when I hear footsteps coming closer and closer to my door.
Quinn walks into the room, and his hands are full. He walks over and dumps the juice on the bed. He picks them up and shows them to me. “Apple, orange, pineapple, grape, cranberry, strawberry kiwi.” He holds that one up. “I don’t think this is real juice, but who knows.”
“Oh my God.” I look down at them, trying not to let him see that I’m crying. How would I explain that I’m crying because this is the nicest thing someone has ever done for me?
"I also got grapefruit juice.” He picks up the last one. “But I don’t know if you can drink it. I have to ask Doris." He looks down at the bottle in his hand, and then he looks up at me. “Which one did you want?”
“You bought me all the juices, didn’t you?” I ask him, surprised but somehow not. How do I tell him that every single time I turn around, he is blowing my mind with his kindness? How do I tell him that if it wasn’t for him, I would still have some fear in me? How do I tell him that when I close my eyes, he is the one who helps fight off the demons?
"I didn’t know which one was your favorite, and I was assuming you wouldn’t tell me, so this"—he smirks—“was my last resort."
"Apple," I tell him, looking down at the bottle. For the first time in my whole life, I admit, “Apple is my favorite." He opens the apple juice, and he pours a bit in a cup and then holds the cup up for me. I take a sip as the sweetness hits my tongue right away.
"Little sips,” he says when we hear a knock on the door.
I look up to see the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her blond hair is hanging down, and she smiles at Quinn. "I’m sorry. I should have called before just stopping by." She comes in, and I see how well put together she is. My head spins as I wonder who this person is.
"Mom," Quinn says, walking to her and hugging her. I just look at her looking up at him with such love, and my heart speeds up as I watch him smile at her. Then she looks back at me, her whole face filling with a smile. “Willow,” he says my name. "I’d like for you to meet my mom, Olivia."
She comes to me, stopping by the bed, and her eyes fill with tears. “It’s so good to finally see you up,” she says, and I look at her, confused. “I would come by when you were sleeping." She looks at Quinn. “We were all so worried about you,” she says. She reaches out to grab my hand, and it’s warm just like her son’s.
“Um,” I say, not sure what to say. “Thank you.” I’m shocked that someone other than Quinn would be worried about me or my well-being. This is uncharted territory, and I have no idea what to do about it.
"I would have brought you something if I knew you would be awake,” she says and looks back at Quinn. “I feel silly showing up empty-handed."
“You don’t have to bring me anything,” I tell her, hoping she doesn’t feel bad. My hands shake but not from fear this time, it’s from being nervous about making a good first impression. I don’t know why I care. Everyone usually just looks at me like I’m dirt. But for reasons that I won’t admit, I want her to look at me without disgust.