Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 99967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
“Why the fuck weren’t you answering your phone?” Xander asks Harper, and tears immediately spring to her eyes.
“Absolutely fucking not.” My voice is low but hard as I shake my head and take Harper’s hand in mine, holding on tight. “You won’t speak to her like that. She doesn’t deserve it.”
Xander rounds on me. “Fine. Why the fuck wasn’t she answering her goddamn phone? It’s not bad enough that we were worried sick about Dad, but we had to worry about her, too?”
“X,” Harper says, reaching out to rub his arm. “Stop. I’m sorry you worried, but I’m here now. What in the hell happened?”
“You should have answered your phone. That’s what happened.” Harper’s body jerks in response to his harsh words.
What’s up with this guy? Why is he taking this whole situation out on her? It’s not her fault.
“Take a walk,” Easton tells his brother before I can. “Go get some coffee. You’re about to be even more of an asshole than usual, and I can’t let you treat her that way.”
“Fuck,” Xander growls before stomping away, and Harper watches him go.
“He’s not being deliberately mean.” She wipes a tear off her cheek. “He gets this way when he’s freaked out.”
“Yeah, well, he’s annoying the shit out of me,” Easton replies. “Dad had spaghetti for dinner. He didn’t eat anything too sugary, and he didn’t realize that the carbs are sugar. He’s still new to this, and he’s learning.”
Harper’s eyes close, and she shakes her head as her shoulders droop.
“His numbers look good now,” I tell them both. “I’m not his doctor, but his monitors look stable, and he’ll rest for a good while until he gets his strength back. Is he on insulin?”
“He’s bad about taking it,” Harper says. “But yes. I’m going to have to go over every day to give it to him. You guys will have to rotate in when I’m working.”
Easton nods in understanding.
“We’ll do that,” he says.
“I have to go get ready for work.” My girl rubs her hand down her face and presses her fingertips into her eyes. “I’ll pop in throughout the day. Did they say when he gets to go home?”
“Probably later this afternoon,” Easton replies, but I turn to Harper and brush her hair over her shoulder.
“Don’t go in today,” I tell her. “Stay with your family. You’ll feel better.”
“I can’t.” She blows out a breath. “There are no other charge nurses to pick up my shift today. But I can pop in and out. I’ll be just one floor up.”
Easton nods and pulls her in for another hug.
“It’s going to be okay, shortcake.”
“I’m so sorry,” she says, and I hear the tears in her voice.
Christ, she’s breaking my heart.
“Not your fault,” Easton says. “And no matter what Xander says, it’s not your responsibility to keep your phone on and be at our beck and call.”
Harper side-eyes me. That’s exactly what I said.
“There are five of us,” he reminds her. “We all help. Don’t forget that. I’ll text you if anything changes.”
“I’ll clock into work, get a read on how things are today, and then I’ll check in on you guys,” she promises him.
“Okay.”
Easton nods at me, and I take Harper’s hand to lead her down the hallway. When we come around the corner, we almost run right into Xander, who’s still frowning.
“I’ll be back in a bit to check in,” Harper tells him.
“Yeah. Great.”
“Whoa.” I shake my head and narrow my eyes at the other man. “She isn’t the reason that he’s in that bed. This isn’t Harper’s fault, and you won’t punish her for it. She’s scared, too.”
Xander sighs and sets his hands on his hips as he looks at his sister with a frown.
“You scared the piss out of me.”
“I’m sorry.” She pats him on the arm. “I’m fine. Greg’s going to be fine.”
He nods. “I love you, you know.”
“Yeah, yeah, love, blah, blah.” She grins at him, and he tugs on her hair. “I’ll see you later.”
He nods, but shoulder checks me as he walks past. I can’t help but chuckle as we walk out to my car.
“Now that,” she says after I start the vehicle and pull out of the parking lot to take her home, “is a colossal dumpster fire. In case you were wondering. For future reference.”
“He’s going to be okay,” I tell her. “His numbers were great. He just needs to get regulated with diet and medication.”
“I thought we were there,” she says. “Looks like we still have some work to do.”
“It’s not easy. It’s a lot to learn, and I have to tell you, he’s doing better than a lot of my patients who don’t want to listen or make lifestyle changes. At least he’s trying.”
She nods and nibbles on her lower lip as she reaches for my hand and weaves her fingers with mine.