Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 142764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
The pain of that statement, the confirmation that this is all real, hits me like a sledgehammer right in the sternum. It's an emotional pain, but I feel it physically along my nerve endings. The air in my lungs stills, and I try to hold the anguish inside. I don’t want to keep breaking down, but that’s all I can do. The sorrow climbs up my throat, clawing its way out of me. The pain slips past my lips and fills the air with an ear-shattering sob. It’s uncontrolled, and agony consumes me, rattling me to the marrow in my bones.
Something cold and wet slips from my eyes and down my cheeks. I can feel the nurse’s and Sebastian’s eyes on me, and I hate it. The vulnerable state this has left me in makes me feel weak and useless. I’m not used to feeling so helpless.
"Yes," I finally answer, my voice breathy. "I know. I remember everything that happened back at the party." I pin him with a hard expression. "Everything."
He glances across the bed to the nurse. "Can we get a wheelchair, please?”
The woman doesn't ask questions and simply nods once and leaves us alone all over again.
"Wow, so that’s what it's like to have money? People just rush off to do your bidding with only a look? No questions or opinions spoken."
The corner of his mouth tips up, and he spears his fingers into his messy curls and shoves them off his forehead. "No, she's a nurse, and to do her job, she would have to have compassion. She knows your mother died, and all she wants to do is help. Can’t blame her there. I guess I wonder does being poor mean you have to be an asshole to anyone who does have money? Because if so, I have bad news for you, Bel. You’re now one of those people who has money.”
I lean my head back against the pillow to try to alleviate the throbbing in my head. However, I doubt the throbbing is due to the head injury alone. This entire situation is a migraine in itself. "I don't want your money."
"It's not my money. It's yours. Yours, our grandfather’s, however you want to word it. He put money in a trust for you and our mother a long time ago. It's just been sitting there for you or her to claim it. Now, it all belongs to you.”
Somehow, that hurts worse. I'd rather have my mother here, living and smiling, way more than any amount of money.
"The money doesn’t matter. I don’t give a shit about any of it. I just want to see her, please." I don't even bother swiping at the tears that cascade down my cheeks. Crying is a permanent feature at this point.
Thankfully, the nurse returns to the room at that moment with the wheelchair. I fight back nausea and dizziness as I push myself up, trying to swing my legs over the edge of the bed. I’ve barely moved, and Sebastian is already at my side, his gaze hard and unreadable.
“Let me help you,” he orders gruffly. I want more than anything to push him away, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I need something, someone to hold me together and make sure I don’t crack straight down the middle. The nurse grabs a robe and hands it to Sebastian, who helps me put it on. Then he helps untangle the IV tubes and wires to the heart machine before walking me over to the chair.
All the movement makes my head pound more, but I don’t care. I need to see her.
Once I’m situated in the wheelchair, Sebastian wheels me out of the room and down the long corridor to the other end. It pays to have money, I see. The rooms are bigger, and the entire place is so quiet. Nothing like the raucous and loud rooms my mom is… was usually stuck in.
At the end of the hallway, we turn into another room, and I clamp my hand over my mouth when I spot her lying on the bed with her eyes closed. She looks asleep, and I can almost picture her green eyes opening, joy filling them as she smiles at me. But that will never happen again. I’ll never get to experience her smile or the glittering of her eyes. From now on, those things will be just a fragmented memory.
I glance back at Sebastian. "You moved her?”
He nods. "I wanted you to be able to say goodbye. I didn’t get to speak with her. The doctors called me, and by the time I made it here, she was already gone. When I realized what was going on, I left to get you. I know how much you love her. Why else would you work your ass off to help pay for her medical bills?"