Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78093 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78093 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
The first thing I notice, other than the darkness, is a low, steady beeping sound somewhere close to me. I can hear my heartbeat, and not just in my ears, but outside my body.
It takes an enormous amount of effort to peel my eyes open, but when I do, I just want to close them again. There’s a light so bright it might as well be the sun shining down on me. My eyes strain to see, and I blink a couple hundred times.
“Ahhh,” I groan softly, so softly it’s more like a wheeze than an actual groan.
When I’m finally able to take in my surroundings, I quickly realize that I’m lying in a hospital bed. A familiar whimper meets my ears and my gaze swings in the direction of the noise. Across the room, a small body is curled up in the recliner. Ava.
Like looking into a kaleidoscope, a flurry of images flood my mind. Greg. The gun. Ava in danger. The gunshot. The heat, and pain. She loves me. She. Loves. Me. I should be worried about the fact that I was shot, but all my thoughts are consumed by her, by her words.
“Ava…” I call out to her, my throat raw, feeling like gritty sandpaper. She stirs, her green eyes blinking open ever so slowly. When she notices me awake, her eyes widen, and she jumps out of her chair almost tripping over her own feet.
“Vance, oh my God. You’re awake,” she says, her tiny hand clutching onto mine like I might disappear into thin air.
“No way you’re going to get rid of my ass that easily.”
Her pretty pink lips form into a frown. “You scared me. I thought you…” Her eyes fill with tears and I’ve never seen her so pale, so well… worried. “I thought you were going to die. The whole way to the hospital, you were out, and then when they took you into surgery.”
“Shhh…” I soothe, cupping her cheek. “I’m here, alive and breathing so no more crying babe.” There’s no way in hell I can bear to see her cry right now. Not when I already want to hold her in my arms, but can’t. I try and sit up, but there’s a piercing pain that lances across my back.
“Fuck,” I growl, gritting my teeth. I feel like my back is nailed to the bed and with every move, my flesh is being ripped out.
“Just, don’t move. They had to sew you up, and you don’t want to pull your stitches.”
“Where’s…” I start but pause, guilt flashes in Ava’s eyes.
“The police took my father away. My mom and your dad went to the police station after you got out of surgery and the doctor told us you will make a full recovery. The bullet missed all major organs, but you did lose a lot of blood, and that’s why you passed out.”
“I’m fine, I’m just glad it’s me in this bed and not you.” Seriously, I don’t think I could handle seeing her in pain like this.
“And I wish it was me instead of you,” she murmurs, her eyes cast down at the ugly hospital gown I’m in.
“Don’t say that, I more than deserved to get shot after the way I’ve treated you. Now we’re even.” I wink playfully.
Ava sighs deeply. “How did our lives become so complicated and messy?”
“I’m not sure, but I can promise you that I’ll try my best to make it as uncomplicated as I can from here on out. Gunshot, or no gunshot I still want you and now I know you want me too.”
Ava opens her mouth looking as if she’s about to disagree, but she’s interrupted with a light knocking on the door a second before it squeaks open a foot.
A middle-aged nurse with long blonde hair peeks inside, her lips turning up into a smile when she spots me in bed. “Hi, Mr. Preston. I’m glad to see you’re finally awake and talking.”
She pushes the door all the way open and steps inside. Grabbing the clipboard hanging on the wall on the way, she comes to step directly beside me.
“I’m glad as well,” I tell her. “Thanks for fixing me up.”
“That’s what we’re here for. How is your pain level right now?”
“Manageable.” The last thing I want to do is mention my pain. All I want to do is get out of here and go home.
“Good, lean forward and let me take a look at your back.”
Gritting my teeth, I do as she asks. She leans over me, pulling up the back of my gown to check the wound. Her hands are gentle, and for the most part, I’m not in much more pain.
“Looks good. I’ll let the doctor know that you’re awake, and that you’re handling the pain well. You’ll need to eat something and keep it down, but if the doctor says so, you’ll probably be able to go home today.”