Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
“Shit,” I whisper.
My brain spins, this unexpected freedom whirling in a new blur of possibility.
“I see you’ll need some time,” Strauss says, a chuckle at the edge of his voice. “If you’d like, I can arrange to have Miss Burr here with you tomorrow.”
“No. Not yet,” I say sharply. “She can’t see me like this.”
Sexton snorts, shaking his head.
“Like hell. If she loves you, that girl won’t give your appearance a second thought.” Strauss gives me a heavy look like he’s talking from experience. “You almost lost her, flirting with death. You really want to waste another second? I don’t need to remind you how short life can be.”
I open my mouth and close it again, hanging my head.
“I need time. A few days might help. Fuck, my face alone feels like a bag of turnips, thanks to how they beat me...” I trail off as my eyes flick back to Sex’s missing fingers.
Guilt rips me in two. I realize how stupid this sounds when I’m still battered, but still have all of my digits.
“Have you ever heard about my wife, Kenna?” Strauss asks softly.
I look up, confused. “A little? She’s some big-time author, right?”
“Yeah,” he says with this hazy, affectionate look in his eyes. “But her kick-ass career isn’t the point. Before I married her, she thought I was a monster. We were friends when we were young. I had a messed-up family dynamic. Then one day she found my journal, saw what I wanted to do to my old man, and I ran her out of my life.”
My eyes widen with surprise. Even Sexton looks on intently, his head slightly tilted.
“Anyway, we didn’t talk for years. I figured she’d never want anything to do with me, much less the man I’d become. I thought I was too hellbent on revenge, too mentally wrecked for her, but she proved me wrong. Now all these years later after she’s been the light of my life, I only regret one thing.”
“Yeah?” I ask in the heavy pause.
“Every minute we wasted alone when we could’ve been together. That’s time I’ll never get back, and I still hate it, even if I plan to be with her until my dying day.” He looks back at me again, his eyes heavy with emotion. “I can’t order you to man up and see your girl, of course. But I hope you will. I hope you’ll realize how meaningless the little things are—hell, even the big ones—when it comes to having your woman at your side.”
I’m surprised as fuck he’s throwing down something so personal.
“Point taken,” I say. “If you want to help get her here, I’ll be grateful.”
Strauss turns with a parting smile while Sex slaps me on the back.
As I settle back in my pillow pile, I realize how much I appreciate the pep talk. Before the operation, I thought Delia was the only person I had in my life.
She’s still my whole universe, but I’m damn glad to find out I’m wrong, and that galaxy of people who give a shit is a little bigger than I thought.
* * *
The next day, I’m finally on my feet, moving, taking pained laps around the room. I even drag myself to the bathroom a couple times.
No one will ever tell you how nice it is to piss in privacy again.
They tell me I shouldn’t have much trouble walking, outside the initial shock. I came away with my legs looking like a painting of bruises, but the bastards managed not to break anything below the beltline.
After lunch, I’ve got another visitor lined up. I shuffle into the bathroom as fast as I can and try to look fucking clean, thinking it must be Delia.
When I step out, though, I’m surprised to find Bruce in the chair next to my bed.
His face is lined with worry. He forces a smile when I plod into the room and sink down on the edge of the bed.
“Thanks for blocking what Ma tried to do. It couldn’t have been easy,” I say firmly.
“You kidding?” His brows lift. “I should be down on my hands and knees, thanking you, Chris.”
I snort. “That thing in Vegas? Shit, like I told you in the letter, it was my fault. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I hadn’t saved her.”
“But you did,” he says softly, inhaling sharply as he smiles. It’s not his usual genteel businessman’s smile—more like a father who’s been sick with worry, the same look I saw on Sexton with his granddaughter. “You proved how much you care for my peanut.”
I look away, unsure where this is going, even if it sounds good.
Bruce clears his throat, shifting in his chair. “Look, this isn’t easy. What I’ve been through the last few weeks with Evie, with Delia, with stepping down from the airline...it can’t hold a candle to the torture you suffered. But for me, it all comes back to one thing.”