Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 160192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 801(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 534(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 801(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 534(@300wpm)
“Good.”
“But . . . but . . . what about you, Jared? Won’t you need protection? It’s you he wants,” she said.
Urgh, she felt sick at the thought of this asshole touching Jared.
“You can’t leave the house either. In fact, you probably shouldn’t be here in the hospital. North, you should take him home and stay with him,” she ordered.
“Hey, easy,” Jared soothed, standing to rub his hand up and down her arm. “I’m fine. I’m safe. I can take care of myself, remember?”
“Yes, it’s you we need to watch over,” North told her. “You’re the vulnerable one. Has the doctor been around? When can we take her home?”
“He was coming back at four,” Jared replied.
“Good,” North said.
“You need to eat, baby girl,” Jared told her.
She shook her head. She couldn’t eat when she felt this ill. Like she was going to vomit. “I can’t eat.”
Jared frowned. “Do you want something else?”
“I should have gotten soup. That would probably be easier for her. I’ll order some,” North said. “Although I don’t like her having food that I haven’t seen being prepared. I made these myself.”
He had?
Wow. That was so sweet.
“It’s not the type of food that’s the problem,” she said. “I just can’t eat. I’m too emotional. I just . . . I’m scared for you guys and I’m sore and tired.”
“You have to eat, baby. Food will help you feel better,” Jared told her, cupping her chin in his hand. “Come on, try some for Daddy.” He picked up the sandwich and held it to her mouth. “If you can’t eat this, then Daddy will have to make you a bottle and feed it to you.”
Oh. Shit.
Why did that appeal so much? The idea of Jared holding her tight? Rocking her in a chair? Feeding her with a bottle?
She licked her lips.
“Does that face mean she likes that idea?” North asked. “I will purchase some baby bottles. What type of formula?”
“You don’t need to get baby formula,” Jared told him. “Look for meal replacement shakes. Although she still needs to eat. The bottles would just be supplements.”
“I don’t need bottles,” she protested. Although that protest sounded weak even to her ears.
“I think bottles are a good idea,” Jared told her. “Daddy would like holding you on his lap on your rocking chair while you suck on your bottle.”
“All right, ordered. Everything should be there by tonight,” North said.
She thought about protesting some more but decided it was pointless. These two were going to do what they wanted.
“Here we are. Open up your mouth. Here comes the choo-choo train,” Jared said as he moved the sandwich through the air toward her.
She gaped at him.
Never in a million years did she think she would see the day that Jared Bartolli did the choo-choo train.
“This is a strange sight,” North said.
“Would you like me to feed you this way as well?” Jared asked.
“I’d like to see you try. You do remember I have a knife?” North said.
“I don’t think you should pull a knife on Jared again, North,” she said haughtily.
“Really? What about when you pulled a knife on Jared the other day?” North asked.
Oh. Heck.
“Umm.”
“I’m starting to feel a bit abused,” Jared said. “Seems everyone wants to remove my head from my body.”
Both she and North glared at him.
“What? Too soon?” he asked.
“Yes, it will always be too soon,” she whispered.
“Sorry, baby girl. Here, eat some sandwich for Daddy.”
She reluctantly took a bite. The sandwich was actually surprisingly good.
“You make good sandwiches, Northie,” she told him.
“You sound surprised. It’s not that hard.”
“It is if you don’t have any ingredients,” she said. “Once all I had was sauerkraut and bread. I don’t know where the sauerkraut came from, maybe the foodbank. Anyway, it wasn’t good. And I had the toots all day. Embarrassing.”
Now both men were staring at her.
Oops.
“But yours are way better, Northie.”
North grunted. “I should hope so.”
“I don’t like that your father never took care of you, didn’t feed you properly,” Jared said.
She shrugged. “I don’t like that your father killed anyone that you showed you cared about.”
“Seems I was better off not having parents,” North said. Then he paused. “Although perhaps not.”
“You didn’t have parents?” she whispered.
“Well, at some stage I must have but as a toddler I was placed in an orphanage in Romania. And then when I was around eight I was placed in a foster home.”
“Well, that’s good,” she said. “Did they treat you well?”
“As well as could be expected.”
That wasn’t mysterious or anything.
“Getting information out of you is like trying to milk a stone,” she told him.
“Why would you milk a stone?” North asked. “That’s impossible.”
“Exactly.”
“I’ve been trying to get more out of him for years,” Jared told her as he held the sandwich to her mouth again. “It is impossible.”
“When did you come to America? You don’t really have an accent. And do you still keep in touch with your foster parents?” she asked.