Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
The problem was that instead of falling in love with men who loved children and would do the heavy lifting in the parenting department, she’d picked Stefán, followed by Clive. Her current husband, Oliver, a man Jacqueline had married after her daughters were too old for it to matter, was actually a gentler, kinder sort of man, but Ísa’s dad was also an empire-builder while Catie’s was… less than reliable.
Leaving no safety net for Jacqueline’s daughters.
Back after that truck ran onto the curb and crushed Catie’s legs, her mother had turned up at the hospital. Of course she had. Jacqueline wasn’t a monster. But she’d disappeared the minute the doctors pronounced that Catie was out of the woods.
Jacqueline wasn’t a keeping-vigil-by-a-hospital-bed-type person.
It was Clive who’d taken that role. Her flake of a father hadn’t let her down at that critical time in her life, when she’d been so afraid and hurt, her dreams of a running career in apparent tatters at the ends of where her legs should’ve been.
That was why she could still love him even though he’d broken her heart so many times. Because she remembered waking up from sedation after yet another surgery to find always-spick-and-span Clive passed out in the hospital chair, unshaven and wearing dirty clothes.
He hadn’t missed a single hospital day, had spent hours keeping her entertained and laughing. But it was Ísa who’d been there for the months and years of rehabilitation that followed, Ísa who’d come to all the appointments with the prosthetic specialists, Ísa who’d made sure Catie didn’t derail her progress by attempting to skip stages.
Jacqueline, in contrast, had paid to have Clive’s entire home reconfigured so Catie could navigate it. She’d also set in motion the beginnings of a company to build cutting-edge prostheses. Looking after Catie in her own way—just not the way so desperately needed by the wounded child Catie had been.
Her mother was a complicated woman.
“We’ll be on the first flight out,” Joseph said toward the end of their call. “Make sure you get some hot drink and food into you since you’re staying up with Danny, or you’ll be answering to me.”
Catie’s eyes burned. “Yes, sir.”
Slipping the phone back into her pocket, she swallowed hard. “I hope you know how lucky you are, hotshot.” All those people, ready to drop their lives to come to him. The surreal thing was that they’d do it for her too.
She’d spent so much time with the Esera clan after Ísa hooked up with Sailor that Veni had once said, “With you and Danny so close in age, you must feel like brother and sister.”
After gagging, Catie had—very firmly—said, “No. Daniel Esera is not my brother. I’m not sure he’s even human.”
Veni had burst out laughing, her giggle an infectious thing, but truth was truth. As for Sailor and Gabriel, they did treat her like a kid sister, but she didn’t mind—they were older, had been adults when she first met them. Jake, closer to her and Danny in age, was a friend.
It was only her and Danny who’d rubbed each other wrong from their first meeting. “And I’d still stab the loser who did this to you,” Catie muttered, her hand yet locked with his. “Don’t let it go to your head. I’d do the same for anyone who had drugs slipped into their drinks.”
Then she squeezed his hand and watched his chest rise and fall.
3
(STRICTLY) TEMPORARY CEASE-FIRE
Danny woke up feeling like shit.
His head was all fuzzy, his mouth tasted like he’d snacked on a furred animal of indeterminate origin, and his body felt like it had taken tackle after tackle in a bruising battle of a game. The only point of warmth, of softness, was in his right hand.
Looking down, he saw a tumble of hair made up of so many shades of red and brown that to call it auburn felt like an insult. That hair was captured sunsets and autumn fire; he loved watching it blaze in the sunshine.
“Catie?” His voice came out low, gravel-rough.
It didn’t wake her where she lay sleeping with her head against the side of his bed, her hand curled into his. No, not curled into his. Gripping his tight.
Why was Catie in his room?
That was when he noticed the curtain around the bed. Another breath and the scent of antiseptics and who knew what else flooded his system. Hospital. This was a hospital. No mistaking that smell or the medical items nearby—including what looked to be an empty nurse’s cart. And yeah, this skinny thing with a metal frame definitely wasn’t his bed.
He went to look at Catie again, was distracted by the bright white light coming through the window behind her. So bright it hurt his eyes.
Frowning, he went to lean forward.
Catie jolted up. “What? I wasn’t asleep!”
All huge brown eyes and golden skin creased with sleep wrinkles, she glared at him before breaking out into a sudden, dazzling smile that threatened to steal his breath. “Hotshot.” She used the knuckles of her free hand to knock gently against the side of his head. “You have all your marbles?”