Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
“Everything good?” the bartender asked, and I turned my head to him and nodded.
Garrett had the owner of this bar under his thumb.
“Let’s go dance, and then I’ll sit in your lap to keep those mean girls away from you,” Shiloh teased, knowing she shouldn’t have tested me.
When I scowled, she laughed and took my hand and pulled me toward the dance floor.
Eleven
Shiloh
Present Day
Uncle Neil walked me to my apartment and made sure I was good before he left me there. Today had been somewhat easier, but only because Gage had seemed to accept my being there. He still loathed me. When he had let me ask a question, I should have asked if I had been a crazed stalker who screwed up his life.
A knock on the door came before Wilder opened it and stuck his head in.
He smiled at me. “Neil asked me to check on you this evening,” he explained. “Can I come in?”
“Of course,” I replied. It would be good not to be alone.
“I’ll go get us some dinner. What are you in the mood for?”
I didn’t have to think hard about that. Eating at that house wasn’t easy for me. I’d barely touched any food. Tomorrow, I was going to take some protein bars with me. I was pretty sure the lack of calories was why I had gotten dizzy, and I’d told Uncle Neil as much in the car.
“Thai,” I told him.
He grinned. “Pad thai with tofu?”
I nodded.
“I’ll call it in.”
I leaned back on the sofa and reached for the television remote while Wilder called in our order. Replaying every moment I had spent with Gage was clearly not healthy, but that was what I kept doing. He had been confusing today. I still wasn’t sure why he’d wanted me to return.
“Done,” Wilder said, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Want to watch another episode of that zombie detective show?” he asked.
I flipped on Netflix and scrolled until I found what he was talking about. “Warning: I might have watched a few episodes without you,” I admitted.
“That’s not cool,” he replied, but I knew he was teasing.
He truly didn’t care about the plotline. I was invested.
We were halfway through an episode when he left to go get the food. I paused it and went to get a bottle of water from the fridge. My phone dinged, alerting me of a text message, and I picked it up from where I’d left it on the counter.
I didn’t know the number. It was probably some spam, but I opened my phone anyway to read it.
What else is wrong with you?
I read that several times, trying to decide who this was exactly. Could this be Huck? I doubted that Gage would have my number, and if he did, he wouldn’t text me.
I typed back:
Who is this?
The response was almost immediate.
Gage. Put my fucking number in your phone. You’re my nurse.
Oh. Well, I was wrong then. He would text me. I saved the number under a new contact before replying.
Is this about my dizzy spell? If so, there is no reason to worry or be concerned. I can handle the job. But if you don’t feel comfortable with me, I don’t have to return.
It annoyed me when people thought I couldn’t work. I got migraines or dizzy. The seizures could be an issue, but I hadn’t experienced one in months.
That’s not a fucking answer, Shiloh.
This man was infuriating.
My brain suffered trauma. I get migraines and dizzy occasionally.
I was not telling him about the seizures. Not his business.
Is that it?
No, that’s not it, but that’s all I’m telling you.
When I wasn’t there, I didn’t have to deal with his attitude. Yet he was now texting me when I was at home, relaxing.
Yes. Is there anything you need help with? Should I call my uncle?
There was a pause, and I picked up my bottle of water and took a drink. Still no response, so I laid my phone back down, then picked it back up, just in case. Sinking back onto the sofa, I glanced down at the back-and-forth texts with him. If I was being honest, I was more annoyed with me than with him. Because I wanted those little dots to appear to show that he was texting me back. That in itself was dangerous.
The door opened, and Wilder walked in with a white bag in his hand. I started to ask him if they had the fried sweet potatoes today, but my phone dinged. My stomach did a little flutter thing at the sound, and I winced. What was wrong with me? I should not be reacting like this.
Pulling my phone out, I saw his name on the screen and debated on ignoring it. Just eat my dinner and watch some more television. For a moment, I thought I could do it, but that passed when I opened my phone, unable not to give in.