Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
I pull out the sliding, folding table and snap it open, then step back so he has space to move and air to breathe. I can’t go sucking up all the oxygen in here. I need to think of something to say to distract him from the pain and distract myself from…from realizing how very easily things can happen to people all over again.
I thought I was over that, but when you lose someone you love at a young age, do you ever get over it? Do you get over it at any age?
“I…uh…I should be better with this,” I mutter.
Thorn’s head snaps up, and I’m bathed in the warm glow of his soft, velvet gaze. Honey and melted chocolate. Peanuts and caramel. Gooey fudge on ice cream. “I can tell you that it’s going to be fine, but you aren’t going to believe it until it is. Just know that I’ve been through this a time or two in the past. I know what I’m doing. I’m not in any serious harm here, or I would have called someone immediately and got my ass straight into surgery if I needed it. Breathe, Effy. Two sharp breaths through your nose and then let it out slowly through your mouth.”
“Is that some kind of military breathing?”
“It’s called two-to-one breathing. It’s supposed to facilitate relaxation.”
“Facilitate not bleeding to death, please.”
He grins again. “As you wish, my lady.”
I frown. “I’m not your lady. And you’re breaking the rules by calling me Effy.”
“I thought that was just until our work relationship was concluded.”
He’s going through the kit now, sorting things out. Fuck, I forgot the rubbing alcohol. I can’t imagine pouring that onto a gaping hole. Ouch city. I go to the cupboard a few feet away and snatch it down before setting it down on the table.
Thorn yanks his shirt up again and goes for the cotton balls and alcohol. I look at the angry wound—a clean slice at least—for about five point eight seconds before I feel like I’m going to pass out and turn my eyes down to the floor instead.
“I should be better with this. Now that I can qualify for student loans, I’m taking classes at the college here. I can do some of it online since it’s just first-year stuff, which is nice. I have to do the labs on campus, but I can at least throw a few electives in so I can do some online here and take the rest just two days a week.”
He stops what he’s doing and gives me his full attention.
Not good. This was supposed to distract me, not him.
“Gah, hurry!” I motion to the wound like it’s going to start spraying buckets of blood all over the bus, like in a horror movie. To be fair, it’s mostly just welling up.
“Okay.” Thorn puts the soaked wad of cotton right on the wound. He. Doesn’t. Even. Blink.
“Holy god.” I whip around so the sympathy pain dials down a notch. “I—I’m enrolled in veterinary medicine. At least the early stages of it.”
“That’s incredible. I think you’d make a great vet,” he says.
“Not if I can’t look at wounds like that, I won’t.”
“I’m sure it’s hard, treating that pain and suffering, and for all the times when you can’t do anything at all. I’ve heard there’s a lot of burnout.”
“In the rescue field too,” I point out.
“Yes. But you were more than handling it.”
“I was an advocate. I wasn’t on the ground, doing the hard work, seeing the sad cases. I know lots of people who are, and they get so overwhelmed. You can imagine the root of the problems, but people can’t spay and neuter their pets or get them medicine or be responsible owners when they don’t have access to resources in the first place.”
“It’s like this wound,” he says.
“How’s that?” I turn slightly and keep my eyes on Thorn’s face only. His lovely, rugged, beautiful manly face that I may or may not have missed so freaking much.
“I’ll answer that right away, but I want to say I’m still sorry for how things happened.”
“No. Don’t be.” I cross my arms, arching into nothing but air like it can hold me up. “It’s scary to start over, but I needed to ask myself the question I guess I was avoiding, even without really knowing I was avoiding it. What do I ultimately want to do with my life? How can I get there? I’ve always known I wanted to help, but how could I keep doing that? People do still trickle donations in, so I pass those along and make sure I’m still active. People can forget, and they can choose whether they want to forgive or not, but I’m not going away completely.”
“There are so many people who care.”
He’s one of them. A man who tries to hide the depth of himself behind hard glares and stony masks. He tries to make the world think he’s all business and that it’s the only thing that matters, but I know that’s not true. I knew it wasn’t true even before he told me that little bit about his life and family. He might be stubborn, but even that could be endearing.