Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Holy hell, what have you done, you freak?
A rush of shame makes me hurry to finish, and I turn off the water without even considering doing a second wash on my hair. Sure, it’s my normal, but I doubt this kind of shampoo and conditioner is going to turn my hair into anything but straw anyway. Not to mention, it’s that very product that led me to Masturbation Lane.
I towel off and twist my wet hair into a ponytail before putting my underwear and bra back on and running into Bennett’s closet to grab something to wear. Typically, I’d be careful with my choice, but the embarrassment and need to vacate the premises as soon as possible really cut into my overthinking. I grab the first shirt and sweatpants I come to, throw them on and roll them up until they fit, and then flee the scene like I’ve just completed a heist.
By the time I make it to the studio, I’m nearly out of breath, and Summer and Bennett are there. Charlie is gone.
“I’m here, I’m here,” I blather dramatically as I jog in. “I’m sorry I took so long, but I’m getting to work right this minute. Social media, emails, website, phone calls—I’m ready to tackle it all!”
When I look up, I see I am unavoidably the center of attention—and not just because I’m late.
Bennett and Summer both stare at me with mouths agape, their focus on my borrowed clothes. I look down at what I’ve thrown on and freeze. “What…what am I wearing?”
Bennett, astonishingly, laughs. Whole body, face transforming, bent over at the waist, he looks like a movie star and a rock star and the king of an entire country. He is regal in his humor, and it’s the most amazing thing I’ve seen in at least a decade.
So much so, I almost don’t even hear him when he speaks. “That’d be my Halloween costume from two years ago.”
Summer giggles. “I wanted to be Anna, you know, from Frozen. Dad was Kristoff.”
“Hmm. I guess that explains why I look like a Norwegian boy.”
Bennett’s laugh has faded to a smile now, but I swear it’s just as good. Big and bright and so genuine, I would never have dreamed it possible.
Summer laughs again, but what starts out as endearing quickly turns into a cough. My eyebrows draw together in concern, and Bennett pauses for only the briefest of moments before jumping into action. I’ve never seen him move so fast as he runs to Summer’s stroller chair and flips it up to elevate her. She struggles to catch her breath, and a sharp cry of pain is the only thing that breaks the sound of her fighting for air.
I join them, panic roiling a nausea in my stomach I’ve never felt in my life. “What can I do?” I ask desperately, my chest seizing as Summer’s sweet face begins to turn blue.
“We have to take her out of the seat,” Bennett commands, undoing one side of the buckles with swiftness I’ve never seen such a large frame exhibit. “Just be careful,” he says in a quiet rush when I start undoing the padded straps on my side. “She has brittle bone. Even the slightest touch can cause fractures and breaks.”
My mind registers his words while my heart feels like it’s been put in a vise.
A simple touch can break this little girl’s bones? Oh my God.
Inside, I’m tortured. But on the outside, I will my fingers to work efficiently. I’ve just managed the last strap when Bennett swoops her into his arms with a gentleness I can’t even begin to describe.
“It’s okay, Sum,” I coach pitifully, hoping my words will bring her even an ounce of comfort as Bennett takes off at a run toward the house.
I follow frantically, churning my legs so hard to keep up that they burn like fire. One of his steps is two of mine, but I’ll be damned if I’m not going to keep up with him. Somehow, I manage the speed I need, opening the door to his truck for him when he gets to it and climbing in beside Summer’s delicate body when he runs around to the other side. Carefully, I hold her close with as little pressure as I can manage and try to straighten her body enough to get some air into her lungs.
When Bennett climbs in, fires it up, and takes off, I ask a question with a calm I am in no way feeling. Truth be told, the word composed isn’t even on the same planet as me right now. “What’s happening, Bennett?”
His voice is soft and tortured as he responds. “I think her ribs are collapsing.”
I have to suck my lips into my mouth to fight off a sob, but I do it. I’m the very last person in this truck who needs to be breaking down.