Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
They all appeared to be his, too, because they fit him like a glove.
I tried not to let my drool dribble down my chin as I watched him walk away, but it was a close thing.
“Known each other long?”
I looked into the eyes of Jasper, likely the scariest man that was there of the four that’d arrived, and said, “All of about twelve hours or so. We met on the plane. I got upgraded to first class.” I didn’t want to ask what I had to next, but I did anyway. “Do you know anything about the plane crash? If anyone else survived?”
It’d been hours now.
There was no way that they didn’t know about it.
“From the preliminary reports, y’all are the only two.” He paused. “Three. The baby made it. But they don’t know about you yet.”
I nodded. “Can’t wait for that circus.”
He snorted. “Don’t envy you at all.”
No, I’d bet he didn’t.
After I got his arm patched up, I said, “This is going to need stitches. It’s good enough for now, but when you get back to civilization, you’re going to need to get it taken care of.” I shoved everything back into the pack, planning on taking it with us. “What did you do?”
“Barbed wire fence that was hanging from a tree. I thought it was a branch.” He paused. “It wasn’t.”
“Ouch,” I muttered.
The one that’d been feeding the baby came up and said, “He’s done. Much happier now.”
I knew he wanted to hand the baby to me but, “I can’t. I’m sorry. But I’m just…”
The man looked at me with a calm, calculating stare before he said, “You don’t have a choice.”
Then I was holding the kid in my hands, and I wanted to scream.
It was too much.
The plane crash. The tornado. The twelve hours of screams.
I just couldn’t anymore.
I broke.
I plopped down onto the lopsided steps and started to cry.
Luckily, the man was right.
The baby didn’t scream.
He was happy and asleep.
But still.
I just lost it.
Utterly lost it.
Deep, heaving sobs left my body in a rush, and I hunched over, still careful to not squish the baby, and cried.
I don’t know how long I cried for, but by the time the men came back, I was still crying.
“Jesus,” I heard Finnian say. “What the fuck?”
The baby was taken from my arms, and Finnian dropped down on his haunches next to me and said, “Dru, what’s wrong?”
“I just wanted a second!” I wailed. “I just…a break. A second to breathe! And that man wouldn’t let me.”
“Way to go, Doc.”
“It’s not like I had much choice,” the man named Doc said. “I was just trying to help y’all so we could leave faster.”
“You could’ve waited a few seconds. It’s not like we’re in a real rush,” Finnian snapped.
“You may not be in a rush, but we are,” another one piped in. “It’s bad, Finnian. We need to get out of here.”
I wiped my tears. “I’m sorry. I’m fine.”
I forced myself to quit crying and gathered my pride. “I’m ready.”
The trek from the broken-down river house to civilization was a long one.
And the men were right.
It was bad.
What I imagined, and what I actually saw, were nowhere near the same thing.
I was showered, changed, and sitting on a couch with a little girl on one side of me, and the infant on the other.
I was mentally and physically exhausted, but I pulled myself together enough that they trusted me with the kids.
They being a man that they called Gunner, who’d brought his wife and his little girl along with him.
Gunner’s wife, Sutton, had smiled at me sadly and helped me get cleaned up. She’d let me borrow some clothes, and they’d let me borrow their hotel room to get clean.
I’d taken her up on her offer of clothes and food.
What I hadn’t done was expected her to trust me enough with her kid after she’d for sure heard about my meltdown at the cabin by the river.
But there I was, hanging out in a hotel room, while everyone else helped with the aftermath of the tornado and the plane crash.
But my brain had a burning question that needed answered, and the moment that Finnian showed up, dirty and more exhausted looking with a phone in his hand and a small smile on his face, I knew I had to ask him.
The toddler girl’s father came in shortly after Finnian and walked to his little girl, picking her up and cuddling her close.
He walked back out the hotel room door, and my brain just couldn’t compute.
The man holding the little girl, that I could now see outside the hotel room talking with a bigger group of big, scary man, definitely wasn’t the one who’d gone home with a little baby girl years ago.
Finnian stopped next to me and gently took the seat, his mouth open to speak.