Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 68859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
At first, when I’d met Davis, I thought he and Sara were dating.
But it was only after many nights hanging out during the days Davis had high school baseball games, out-of-state games for his club baseball league, or at baseball practice that I learned that he and Sara didn’t see each other like that.
At first, I couldn’t understand why. I mean, Davis was freakin’ hot.
Even in high school, without all the extra added bulk, Davis had been insanely good-looking.
But then, as he’d aged, he’d grown even sexier.
The more that the man had aged, the better looking he’d gotten until I was downright afraid to look at him half the time so he wouldn’t catch on that I thought he was the best-looking man on the planet.
The thing was, though he was attractive as hell, he was an asshole.
And looks could only do so much when it came to a person’s attitude.
My eyes traveled over the length of the front entryway, and I wondered what in the hell I was supposed to do.
I’d never traveled farther than the bathroom by the stairs.
But this time, something tugged me farther into the house, and I smiled when I saw why.
“Hey, Carrie.” I smiled at her.
Carrie was in her special chair, the one that strapped her down and held her up, but still allowed her to be in something comfortable like a recliner.
Davis was nowhere in sight, so I moved farther into the room, smiling as I did.
Carrie turned her drowsy eyes my way and then smiled.
Carrie had always been awesome when we were younger. When I’d heard about her accident, I’d been horrified. When I’d heard about what Davis had done to protect her, I’d actually cheered him on.
I’d also spent a lot of time with Carrie throughout the years just to give her some social interaction.
“Hey there.” She smiled, taking in my disheveled appearance. “Are you okay?”
I shrugged. “I’m…flustered. The ride on the bike was intense.”
Carrie knew all about my dad. Mostly because I’d told her, because I’d thought giving her something else to focus on in those early days was better than overthinking her own situation.
Her eyes went wide.
“Was that your first ride?” Carrie asked me, looking happy and unbothered by her condition.
I knew exactly what she was asking. My first ride since my dad had died in front of my eyes.
I focused on her wheelchair.
She’d gotten an upgrade since I’d seen her last in town.
Carrie was paralyzed from her chest down. She had just enough control of her hands to be able to do most things, like hold a phone and help with her feeding tube. However, she wasn’t strong enough to move herself around on her own.
“Uh, yeah.” I shrugged as if it didn’t mean as much as it did. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” she grumbled. “Will you help me to my wheelchair?”
I didn’t think twice.
I did what she asked, moving her to her chair and being careful to take her wires and tubes with her as I did.
When she was strapped into her wheelchair, she all but zoomed off, saying, “Follow me,” as she went.
I did, coming to a stop in the kitchen as I saw Davis talking to a night nurse that was nodding her head at whatever he was saying to her.
He stopped when he saw us.
“Kyle Daniel Davis, what the hell were you thinking taking her on your bike when her father died from a motorcycle accident, traumatizing her?” Carrie fumed.
Davis blinked at getting “three named” by his sister.
I looked away, wishing she hadn’t gone there.
Nobody, not even Sara really, knew my story.
“What?” he asked, sounding confused.
“Do you remember hearing about a bad motorcycle accident that happened two towns over from us in Alabama?” she asked. “The big one where the dude in the Dixie Wardens motorcycle club died? That was her dad.”
I felt my stomach clench.
I hadn’t heard that name, the Dixie Wardens, in so long.
My dad had once, a very long time ago, been a part of the Mooresville, Alabama chapter.
I could still remember the number of bikes that had shown up at his funeral. The sound of them was deafening.
“What?” he asked again, unable to recall the specifics. “How?”
I rolled my eyes. “I’ll be outside. I need some air.”
And I did.
In actuality, I wanted to go home.
In fact, I could probably walk…
“Thanks for waiting. That’s a new night nurse, and I wanted to make sure she had an understanding of everything that she needed to get done before I left her alone with my sister all night,” he grumbled, looking at his feet, almost as if he was afraid to look at me. “Had I known you were scared, I wouldn’t have forced you to get on the bike…or driven that fast.”
Whatever.
“Let’s go,” I grumbled.
He did, gesturing at his car.
I walked to it and got into the back instead of the front.