Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
I wanted all those things more than I think I ever actually wanted my coffee business.
That was… startling.
I’d worked so hard for so many years building the business and my life that went along with it. It was insane to think I would be willing to give all of that away for the warmth and family that August had been so blessed to have just been given.
“Are you having some symptoms?” Lettie asked, watching me with careful, but concerned eyes.
“What? No. Sorry. I’m just… thinking,” I said. “Very, very clearly,” I added, getting a little laugh out of Lettie.
“Okay then. Well, I think we can put August’s worries to rest,” she said, but pulled out a bottle of acetaminophen. “You can take these as needed, but avoid NSAIDs for the next two or three days, just as a precaution,” she instructed. “Anddd… here,” she said, producing several small instant ice packs. “I have a feeling you aren’t going to get a chance to lie around and ice like you should. So use these until that can happen.”
“Thank you,” I said, meaning it.
“Oh, one more thing,” she said, but this time, she reached into a side pocket. “This is not part of my medical kit,” she explained, producing something rolled up, and spreading them wide. “But I am on my feet a lot, and they hurt easily, so I keep some of these one-time-use ballet flats on me. You have no shoes,” she explained.
“Oh, right,” I said, looking down at my dirty feet. Had I tracked dirt all over August’s perfect home?
“We look close enough to the same size for these to work until you can get something better.”
“Thank you so much. Truly,” I said. “How can I pay—“
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’m charging August. Believe me, he can afford it. I might also be taking that lasagne with me, since it seems like you guys are all heading out,” she told me as she zipped her bag, and hauled it back up on her shoulder. “I hope I can do a re-check in a few days. Try to take care,” she said as she moved out.
I could hear her softer voice mingling with the men out in the living room before the door was pushing open again, and August was moving inside.
“Seems like you got the mostly-clear,” he said, moving toward me.
“I got little ice packs and mediocre pain medicine,” I said, shaking the bottle.
“What? No bitching about single-use ice packs?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m disappointed in you,” he added.
“I know, right?” I said, sighing a bit. “I’m sorry if I got your place dirty,” I told him. “I forgot about my feet.”
I was actually a little worried that I’d managed to drive an hour in bare feet without realizing it. Was that one of those cognitive dysfunction things Lettie had mentioned?
“No one fucking cares about that,” he said, brows pinched. “You got some temporary shoes?”
“Yeah. I, ah, yeah,” I agreed. “Can I wash my feet before we go?” I asked, gesturing toward the primary bathroom.
“Yeah, of course,” he agreed, moving in that direction to turn on the light.
It was as expected.
A glass shower stall.
A pristine soaking tub that I was sure he’d never used.
Lots of windows and gray tile.
Sleek. Modern. Cool.
It could use some plants in the window, soaking up the sun that had to beam in during the day from the giant windows, maybe some mats on the floor to give the space some texture.
I moved into the shower stall, reaching for the detachable shower head, turning on the hot water, then plopping my ass down on the built-in seat to rinse my feet.
I felt his presence even before my peripheral caught him standing in the open doorway.
“I can’t convince you to stay here, can I?” he asked, seeming resigned, even if I knew he wished I would stay.
“No,” I said, rubbing his bar of soap between my hands to create a lather before scrubbing my feet with them. “You won’t even know who to call, or where to look, or… anything,” I said.
“I hate that you’re right about that,” he admitted as I rinsed the soap, then accepted the towel he handed to me to dry off before I stepped out.
I moved toward the vanity, catching sight of myself for the first time, almost jerking back at first.
The bruises were setting in on my face, purple and blue with yellow around the edges. But that was nothing compared to the bruises on my throat. My hair was mostly out of the ponytail, and I reached instinctively to fix it, even though it didn’t do much to improve my overall appearance.
I looked like I’d been beaten up.
I had.
There was no reason to worry too much about that. Not with my father and uncles in the wind.