Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
He tilts his head down, chin almost on his chest. I have to stand between his legs to get close enough to examine the wound. Anyone else, I’d have been thrilled to be cradled between those massive thighs. But this is Reed Knowles, so instead of admiring the way the thermals cling to his muscles or contemplating the size of his package, I’m only interested in his injury.
I find a cut and swelling on his crown. I smear in some antibiotic cream and hope that stops the bleeding. I’ve got gauze but, aside from wrapping up his entire head, I’m not sure how it’ll stay on. His hair is too thick to stick a self-adhesive bandage in there.
“This cut isn’t too bad, but I’m not sure what to do about this big lump,” I say. “How’s your leg?”
He shifts his leg and grimaces. “Hurts when I move it.”
“Do you think you pulled a muscle or is it bruised?”
“Bruised.”
“Then maybe we should put ice packs on your leg and your head? I really don’t know. But people who are punched in the face always put a bag of peas on their cheek, yeah?”
“Yeah, they do.” He sounds amused. “You have a bag of peas?”
I’ve got way better. I shove my feet into my boots and fill two quart-size food storage bags with snow from the porch. Tromping back inside, I tell him, “These will work for ice packs. I’ve also got ibuprofen—but listen. We’ve got nothing else. So you have to promise you won’t die or let it get infected.”
He gives me a scowling look of disbelief. As if I’ve just said something incredibly stupid. “That’s not something I can promise. That’s not something anyone can promise.”
“Sure you can. You’re just not trying hard enough. You will not ruin my Christmas.”
“You said I was already ruining it. So maybe you’re the one not trying hard enough. You don’t seem very cheery to me.”
“Oh, I was cheery. Before you arrived, I was having a jolly time—and I’m determined to have the best Christmas ever. I can’t do that if you’re dead.” No, that’s not right. “I can’t do that if you’re dead and still here. So you’ve got three days to get better and leave.”
“Trust that I’m not hoping to stay.”
“Trust that I don’t give a flying fuck what you hope or feel.” I give him one of the ice packs to use on his leg, then wrap the other in a hand towel and press it against the lump on his skull. Not hard, yet his breath hisses through his teeth. “Obviously.”
Silence falls between us, with me standing there holding snow against his head while he presses the other bag to his thigh. The fire crackles, the wind howls, and I mentally tally up the number of extra blankets stored around the cabin. And…there’s not enough. The plan I was beginning to form regarding our sleeping arrangements—which consisted of me curling up in an armchair—is simply not feasible. If we split the blankets, we’ll both be cold.
Shit.
The clearing of his throat breaks through the quiet. Obviously he has something to say, but it takes a few more seconds before he finally spits it out.
“Thank you,” says a Knowles man to a Walker woman.
Holy crap. It’s a Christmas miracle. “You can thank me by leaving as soon as you’re able to.”
“That I can promise,” he says.
Reed
Reed
So last night wasn’t a nightmare. I hoped it was. But even before I open my eyes, the throbbing in my head and my leg tells me otherwise.
I’m really here, sharing Harris’s cabin—sharing Harris’s bed—with one of the Walker girls. Though I suppose she’s one of the Walker women now. I went to the same high school as the older girl—Laura? Laurel? Hell if I remember. We weren’t in the same grade, so she was easy to avoid. This girl, the younger sister, the red-haired one…I haven’t seen her since the day she took a chunk out of my hand. She ought to have been easy to avoid, too—our city isn’t big, but it’s big enough that unless you’ve got the same circles of friends or work, you can go a long time without seeing someone you’d rather not. But my friend circle overlaps with her work circle, so Harris mentions her now and then.
I wish to fuck that he’d mentioned she’d be here at the cabin. Maybe I wouldn’t have left my dad’s lodge last night. I’d have stayed there with his new family and pretended the shit with Karilee never happened.
But, no. I’m no good at pretending. And being snowed in with a Walker girl is better than staying in the same house as my new stepmother.
Marginally better.
From beside me, a curse comes out on a low groan. “Fuuuck. It wasn’t a bad dream?”
Goddammit. Realizing that I wasn’t stuck in a nightmare was my first thought on waking, too. My skull must have been whacked real fucking hard if my brain’s on the same wavelength as a Walker’s.