Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 68515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
I sat back as if he’d slapped me.
He sat down as if he’d had the wind knocked right out of him.
His head dropped, and I saw his shoulders heaving as if he couldn’t quite catch his breath anymore, either.
“You were strapped to a broken ass table,” he rasped. “You were beaten and abused. You were concussed. You were hurt in ways that I’ll never be able to heal. And that was all done because of my asshole stepson who thought the only way he could get to me was through you. Something he knew that I loved.”
I stayed silent, because I wasn’t quite sure what to say.
“I didn’t even know you were gone until some man came up to the power company and told me,” he said. “The bakery door still has your blood on it from where it hit you in the face.”
I swallowed hard.
“I watched the tape,” he said. “Watched Erich allow you to fall to the ground like a limp doll. Watched him walk right up to the alarm and turn it off as if he owned the place.” He rocked his head on his shoulders, still looking at the ground. “I was an arrogant son of a bitch who thought I had the upper hand, and I didn’t.”
I bit my lip, unsure if I should interrupt.
These had been things that I’d been waiting to hear—an explanation as to what had happened that day.
Yet, he’d put me off, telling me he’d tell me when things got better.
Obviously, he’d decided that things weren’t going to get better.
Fuck.
“I rode for thirteen minutes to you,” he said. “In that time, I imagined every single scenario that might happen. Rape. Mutilation. Death. And in that time, I thought about how I’d only known you for less than a month, but in that month, you’ve changed my heart in ways that I never thought possible.”
I moved then, unable to help myself.
I walked around the side of the bed and stood in front of his defeated body.
“Jeremiah…”
“Can’t find the guy that helped you,” he said, pressing forward so that his head rested against my belly. I carefully moved my arms forward to rest my bandaged arms on his head. “Can’t find out what happened at that building besides finding Erich dead outside.” He pressed deeper into my belly. “I walked into a nightmare, and I can’t seem to wake up from it.”
I closed my eyes and started to cry.
I didn’t remember anything.
In fact, I remembered so little that the one psychologist that came to talk to me about the incident said I probably would never remember, based on the trauma my body showed.
“Jeremiah,” I whispered again.
He finally looked up, and I saw the tortured expression on his face.
My own shoulders sagged, and I dropped my arms, the movement from his face tilting upward having hurt them.
Not that I would ever tell him that.
“Give me a chance.”
I was already shaking my head. “You already said you didn’t want children, Jeremiah. And that’s exactly what I would be. A burden. A child to be taken care of.” I lifted my hands, or lack of hands, into the air and held them in front of his face. “I can’t even touch you anymore. I…”
He gently pushed me away, then stood so close that his body towered over mine.
His face got almost directly into mine before he rocked my world with what he had to say next.
CHAPTER 24
Procrastibaking: the art of making cupcakes instead of doing something else you should be doing.
-Text from Jeremiah to Shine
JEREMIAH
“You think that I’m that shallow? That I won’t love you just because you don’t have hands?” I growled. “You think that, maybe, just maybe, I’m not the one responsible for you not having them in the first place?”
“You’re not responsible for having a crazy person in your life,” she snapped, her eyes liquid fire. “And I don’t want you doing these things for me because you feel guilty that your stepson, one that you’ve never liked at that, was crazy as fuck and decided to hurt me in inventive ways.”
Just the mention of Erich being my stepson sent waves of disgust rolling through me.
“You’re not useless, honey,” I told her bluntly. “You’ll be able to figure this out. You won’t be down for long. You’ll be back to work in no time. You’ll be everything you want to be again, just with two less hands.”
If anything, my words only seemed to make her angrier.
“People won’t want to have food in their mouth that was baked by someone with ugly little stumps!” she yelled, waving said stumps in the air as she made her way back to the hospital bed and sat gingerly. “I can’t even live anymore, Jeremiah! I can’t do stuff like I used to.” She folded in on herself. “I can’t even wipe my own butt.”