Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
My fucking influence? Why do I suddenly have the overwhelming need to knock this fucker out? “She’s got some other shit going on.”
“Yeah—oh shit. I gotta go,” he says. “Doctor’s here.”
“Wait. Who the fuck—” he ends the call and I sigh. “Are you?”
I stomp on the gas, racing toward the hospital as I white knuckle the steering wheel. This isn’t quite how I anticipated spending my night with Harper. I was going to go home, cook her something nice, maybe have a glass of wine, and then spend every waking second buried inside of her. But apparently the world had other plans for us.
I reach the hospital in no time and get increasingly frustrated as I struggle to find a parking space. This hospital is at the top of their game, but when it comes to the whole parking situation, they really dropped the ball.
After parking crooked in a too small space, I rush inside the hospital, reaching reception and demanding to know where the fuck she is. “I’m looking for Harper-Rayn Madden. She’s supposed to be in surgery.”
The receptionist takes way too long, searching the details. “Ahh, yes. She was just brought in a little while ago. What relation are you?”
“Family,” I say with a cringe. “Uncle.”
“Of course,” she says with a nod. “Feel free to take a seat in the waiting area. She’s only just gone into surgery so it could be a little wait.”
“What about her condition? Do you know what happened? How’s she doing?”
She gives me a tight smile. “I’m unsure,” she says. “I can only offer the details here in front of me. However, you should prepare yourself. She has suffered some very serious injuries.”
I blow out my cheeks, having the overwhelming need to pace in front of the receptionist, but I keep my shit together and offer her a smile instead. “Thanks,” I mutter.
“I’ll let the surgical team know that you’re here and to give updates as they become available.”
I nod before turning on my heel and stalking toward the waiting area, and as I take my seat, I can’t help but look around, taking in the faces of the people around me. From the scarce details Harper has given me, none of the people here are suspicious. There’s no random men just sitting by themselves, nobody lurking in shadows, or watching me like I’m some kind of threat, which makes me wonder where the fuck is the asshole who I spoke to on the phone?
The minutes tick by painfully as I sit in the uncomfortable chair, my elbows braced on my knees. Diesel and Ace both call to check in, but I can’t deal with it now and give them the slightest run down, knowing that at some point, I’m going to have to discuss this with them.
Twenty minutes eventually drags into two hours when a doctor comes through the internal hospital doors. “Harper-Rayn Madden?” he calls out.
I get straight to my feet and meet the doctor in the middle. “You’re Harper’s uncle?” he confirms.
I nod. “Yes, that’s correct. Is she okay?”
“She is stable and out of surgery,” he says. “She’s suffered a lot of injuries, some more concerning than others, but she will be okay.”
I shake my head, still in disbelief. “What’s, uhhh, what kind of injuries are we talking about?”
“Harper suffered a great deal of internal bleeding. There was significant trauma to the liver and spleen, however they have both been taken care of. Externally, her injuries are consistent with being beaten. She will have significant bruising and swelling that will develop over the coming days and has received multiple stitches to the face. She’s in the clear, but it will be a rough road to recovery.”
“Beaten?” I ask, unable to believe how anyone could do this to her.
The doctor presses his lips into a tight line and nods, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. “She’s being taken to recovery now,” he tells me. “You’re more than welcome to sit with her. It would be good to see a familiar face when she wakes. She will probably be quite upset and very sore and will have a lot to process.”
I nod. “Thanks.”
“The receptionist can help you with a room and bed number,” he tells me before turning on his heel and walking straight back through the double doors.
After visiting the receptionist again, she gives me a room number, and within seconds, I’m making my way through the hospital, my desperation pushing me faster with every step. I need to see for myself what kind of hell she has suffered through.
I reach her room in no time, and as I step in beside her, my heart breaks.
Her lip is split and held together with stitches, and there’s significant bruising and swelling under her right eye. Her body is covered by a heavy blanket, but I don’t doubt that every inch of her skin mimics the bruising on her face.