Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 61149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
“Why didn’t he see this coming?” Chomps Kid when I take the ice and drop down beside him. “Why didn’t he warn us about her being here?! Why didn’t he know she was here?! And how long has she been here?! And where is she staying?!”
“I don’t know.”
“Find out,” is attached to me placing the towel and ice combo on the injured area, “now.”
Chapter 19
Kipp
I can’t sleep.
Won’t eat.
All I can do is think.
About Bunny.
Our baby.
Is she okay?
Is he okay?
How long will they be okay?
And if they broke my ribs, were willing to kill my ignition – in my own fucking shop – what are they willing to do them?
What’s to stop them from doing worse?
Will they?
Won’t they?
What kind of fucking Christine worshipping blockheads willingly kidnap a pregnant woman?!
Groans of discomfort escape as I slightly shift my back against the pillows keeping me propped up.
Fuck, it feels like I’m trying to rest on a goddamn garage creeper.
Huh.
I think that shit might actually be more fucking comfortable than this.
Definitely would feel safer.
More secure.
I always do under a car.
Or under a hood.
Or under my fiancés.
“You should be sleepin’,” Nolan mirthfully scolds, prompting me to open my eyes, not the least bit surprised to see him strutting in to check on me.
Rather than state the obvious, I casually challenge, “Yeah? So should you.”
He grunts.
Continues his trek around the bed to my side.
Kicks his chin at the untouched sandwich on a grumbled, “You should eat somethin’.”
“Yeah?” I mock at the same time my head hits the headboard. “So should you.”
“That’s it?” Nolan arrives near the bedside table. “You’re jus’ gonna pout in here like a spoiled brat?”
“You wouldn’t let me pout out there like your worried future husband.”
A loving but firm grasp is given to my chin. “I don’t want you pouting period.”
Cutting my attention elsewhere is ceased courtesy of a tighter hold.
“I want you sleepin’. I want you eatin’. I want you fuckin’ healin’, leavin’ me one less thing to stress about.” It’s impossible not lean into his touch. “I didn’t send your ass in here to punish you.” The corner of his lips kicks upward. “I would’ve jus’ put you over my knee for that.”
Light chuckles instantaneously spark louder murmurs of discomfort.
“Need another dose?” inquires my disheveled looking older half on a rattling of the bottle that’s in his other hand.
“Yeah.”
“Eat.”
Pushing his arm away precedes a huffed, “You fucking serious right now?”
“Like the Lambo purchasing process.”
Not glaring is impossible.
“Bunch of pain pills on an empty, dehydrated stomach, ain’t good, Kid.” He flops down on the edge of the mattress beside me. “And I didn’t have to go to med school to figure that shit out.” There isn’t time for a retort, let alone a snarky one. “Have a couple bites, some water, and then I’ll give you more meds.”
No movement is made.
“Or,” he harshens his tone, “you can keep being fuckin’ stubborn and continue to suffer and I’ll leave with the pills.”
“I can just get ‘em myself.”
“I’ll put ‘em on the highest fuckin’ shelf possible.”
“Nolan.”
“One that requires me to use Rabbit’s stepstool.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“And then I’ll fuckin’ hide the stepstool downstairs somewhere in the shop.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“So’s you refusin’ to do the one thing I’m askin’.”
“Technically, eating and drinking are two things.” An urge to grin is almost given into. “Sir.”
“Good to know you’re passin’ math and naked arts and crafts.” Another chuckle threatens to takeover. “Could you pass snack time too?” My mouth lowers, prepared to continue to argue when he pleads, “Please, Kid.” Unfamiliar worry seeps into his stare. “You’re gonna need your strength.”
That’s true.
Whatever fight is ahead of us…whatever fight is needed for Bunny…our son…I’m gonna be in it.
Broken body parts or not.
I’m gonna be there to bring them home.
To go to war for my family.
To guarantee all of us cross the damn finish line.
Together.
Reaching for one half of the sandwich precedes me quietly investigating, “Any…um…Any news from Zero?”
He shakes his head.
“None?”
He shakes it again prior to gesturing at the food I’m gripping yet not eating. “Put it your mouth before I put something else in it.”
The sexual threat under normal circumstances would rev up something equally as cocky.
But not today.
Not now.
“How can you act like this?” I take a bite angrily. “How you can you act like nothing’s fucking wrong?!” Chomping down through the bread occurs a second time. “Howcan yousithere and make jokes andthinkabout blowjobs insteadofour fucking girl?!” Two more chews are taken. “Howcanyoubesofucking calmwhileshesout there scared?!Andhurt?!Anddying?! Beingtortured?!” The very end of the food is wedged into my mouth beside the others. “Whyarentyoupanickingmoreorlosingyourshitortryingtoripthemapaparttofindher?!”
Nolan replies in the most unphased way possible. “Chew.”
Outrage floods my system, straightening my spine, pushing me to sit up straight only to be immediately met by more pain.
Pain that causes me to groan again.
Groans that are muffled by the contents stifling my ability to clearly speak.
Post furious grinding and necessary swallowing, I take the bottle of water Nolan’s offering me along with the two pills.