Series: Silver Spoon MC Series by Nichole Rose
Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 38632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 193(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 193(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
I never knew my real dad, and my mom's boyfriends tended to be alcoholics and addicts with anger problems. She never let them hit me or Siobhan, but they roughed her up plenty. After growing up around them, dating has never high on my list of priorities.
Making up perfect men for the story apps I write is easy. Putting my faith in the real version is terrifying. I want to believe Tate when he says his club is nothing like the men who killed my sister, but what happens if I'm wrong? What happens to Scout if I'm wrong?
"Tate is a good guy," Troian says, sobering. "You know I wouldn't have left you there alone if I didn't trust him implicitly to take care of you and Scout."
"I know," I whisper, laying my forehead against the cool glass and exhaling a sigh. It immediately fogs over a patch of glass beneath my nose. Guilt trickles in, adding to the cacophony battling for dominion in my mind. She's right. "I feel like a jerk. He's been great, and I basically called him a criminal today."
"He'll forgive you. Besides, a little humility will do him good," she says with a chuckle. "He's cocky, isn't he?"
"He's bossy."
"That too." She laughs. "Give him a chance, Samara. He's an incredible surgeon, and a good man. He'll be good for you and Scout."
I frown, not sure I like the way she said that. "You mean for Scout."
"Sure, that," she says. "How is she today?"
"Worse," I whisper, tears pooling in my eyes. Every day, she's worse than the day before. I hate leaving because I'm so afraid something will happen while I'm gone. Her heart is struggling. Her lungs are struggling. She's struggling. They keep telling me that she's a fighter, but she shouldn't have to fight at all. No baby should.
"I'm so sorry, Samara."
"Me too."
"Do you have a surgery date yet?"
"Tate's working on it." He left her room to start making calls not long after Daisy, her nurse, arrived. He still hadn't returned by the time visiting hours ended. I decided to walk back to the penthouse to clear my head. Hopefully he'll have a date for me soon. "I'm not sure how much time he needs."
"If anyone can get it worked out for her, he can. She's in good hands now." She pauses. "That's what they call him, you know. Hands."
"Really?"
"Mmhmm."
An image of him running his hands across my body floats through my mind, his emerald eyes locked on my face. A shiver rolls through me. I bite my lip, fighting a groan.
Stop thinking about his hands, Samara. Stop thinking about him.
Except…I can't. All day, he's been stuck in my head. It's starting to stress me out. The walk here didn't help. Nothing has. Ever since this morning, I've been obsessing about him, and I don't know why. He's not the first gorgeous man I've met. There are plenty of those in California. But he's the first one that I've ever wanted to know.
"I should go," I say. "I need to shower and get some sleep."
"Call me if you need anything, Samara. I mean it," Troian orders, her voice soft. "I'll be on the first flight out."
"Thank you," I whisper, fighting tears again. I have no idea how I would have made it through the last few years without her and her family. Troian didn't just give me a job. When she hired me to work at her family's company, they adopted me. Her parents, Dom and Summer, treat me like one of their kids. Without them, I'd be entirely on my own.
Once we say our goodbyes, I pull my charger out of my bag and plug it in to charge my phone. I don't have much with me, but Tate helped me carry it up before we went to the hospital earlier. As soon as my phone is charging, I grab clothes and head toward the bathroom for a long, hot shower.
It's the only room in the apartment not completely made of glass. On a good day, this bathroom is a luxury. After spending the last week showering in the hospital shower, it's pure bliss. The floors are heated. Hot water pours from three different shower heads. I use more than my fair share of the hot water, letting it beat down on me. For once, my mind is quiet. I think I'm too tired to worry and cry and stress anymore today.
I barely have my t-shirt and panties on when the bathroom door flies open, banging against the wall. I jump a foot into the air, my hand flying to my heart.
"You left," Tate growls, glaring at me like a pissed off lion.
"You scared the crap out of me!"
"You left," he says again.
"Visiting hours ended." My stomach sinks, anxiety shooting through me. "Did something happen? Is Scout okay?"