Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 74379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
But every time I tried to take that step in her direction, guilt riddled me.
My sister wasn't alive anymore. She wasn't alive because of Krisney's brother. She'd taken her own life because she couldn't live with what he'd done to her.
Could I do that to her?
No.
Everything was still the same.
I loved her, but I couldn't be with her. It would be like a slap in the face to my sister—my parents.
My mom and dad didn't have a thing to say about the path I'd taken in my life.
They'd let me make my own mistakes just as they'd done with my brothers.
Honestly, they might not have ever said anything when it came to Krisney and me being together. Neither would my brothers. But I didn't want any of them to inadvertently take anything out on Krisney. I didn't want her to ever feel like she wasn't wanted.
I laughed harshly at that thought because wasn’t that exactly what I was doing to her?
I may not be saying the words to her, but I was practically throwing them at her each time I left her and her bed. Or her altogether.
Stomach tight with disgust, I rolled out of my empty bed and walked into my kitchen.
The apartment I was in was much like the one I'd had when I'd first gotten together with Krisney.
I had a plate, fork, cup and a knife to eat with. I had one towel. A bed and a nightstand with a lamp on it.
At this point, that was pretty much it.
I'd lived light through my years in the Army. Most of that time I'd lived out of a single sack, not caring in the least that I had to keep my possessions light.
Now, I just plain didn't care what I had. Mostly because what I had now didn't matter if I didn't have Krisney.
Slamming the coffee pot lid closed a little harder than needed, I stalked back to the bedroom and threw on a pair of old jeans and a t-shirt.
Today I'd be picking up a shift with Hail Auto Recovery since quite a few of them were sick with a random case of the stomach bug.
I just hoped I didn't get it.
I hated throwing up. I turned into a different person when I threw up.
I'd gotten drunk once and only once, mostly because of the hangover I'd had afterward. Nausea didn't agree with me.
Which was kind of hypocritical seeing as I worked with pregnant women all day. Pregnant women who were nauseous—and throwing up—a lot of the time.
Krisney. Had she been nauseous? She hadn't said she was. Fuck, I hope she wasn't.
Though, it was very likely that she had been at some point.
She was pregnant with twins. The hormones that caused the nausea in the first place were doubled.
Fuck, I really hoped she wasn't sick. I hated seeing her hurt. She'd gotten the stomach bug one time while we'd been together, and seeing her throwing up while I was powerless to do anything was honestly quite debilitating.
Which, if I were being truthful, had been one of the reasons why I’d ultimately left the night before. I didn’t actually have to go in. I’d gotten a call saying a patient was going to the hospital for what she suspected were contractions, but I’d known better. She was a first-time pregnant woman, only thirty-seven weeks, and it likely was that she was only having Braxton Hicks contractions.
I didn’t need to leave.
I could’ve waited to hear…but I’d taken the chicken shit way out and left while I had a good excuse.
Now, I was fucking regretting it.
I hadn’t gotten another call that night.
I’d lain in bed for hours looking at the ceiling fan spin.
All the while, I’d thought of nothing but her.
And when my brother had called around three to ask if I was willing to work for a couple of hours today, I’d agreed.
Now, I was headed out to pick up a tow truck, and I tried really hard not to think about the fact that I’d left a pregnant woman—pregnant with my babies—home alone in a house I knew she hated because I was the biggest coward in the world.
I was scared to get close again.
I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to walk away a second time.
The four or so hours that I worked—seeing as it was Saturday—were uneventful. I’d picked up my share of cars over my time after having being roped in by my brothers, Dante and Travis.
It’d never really been my passion, though, like it was theirs.
Me, I was more interested in studying.
Which I did. Hard.
When I no longer had Krisney around to pull my attention away from my studies, I didn’t do anything that didn’t revolve around having my nose stuck in a book. Once I’d graduated with my MD, I’d joined the Army, and then I was never home, except for rare occasions while on leave.