Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“It’s really the hospital gowns I’m gonna miss.”
“Ah, there’s my peppy patient. Well, everything looks good. We’ve transferred all your rehabilitation instructions to the personal trainer Mr. Blake has hired. You’ve been instructed on all medications. How are the headaches?”
“Still there.”
“It’ll take some time. Very common with head trauma. I can’t express enough how lucky you are to be alive.”
“Yeah, yeah. Real lucky.” I make the mistake of glancing at Jackson. His expression is blank, but I see the constant guilt that’s been in his eyes. The past three weeks have been hell. I’d say it all started when I got hit by a car, but my problems began way before that. I ruined Jackson and Noah’s relationship for good. Noah walked out of my hospital room and never returned. He stopped answering my calls and shut his phone off completely.
A few days later, Jackson was notified that Noah had made a large withdrawal. According to the surveillance, he packed a bag and boarded a flight to Amsterdam. Neither of us has heard from him since. The guilt of what we did is weighing so heavily on us both that it’s becoming suffocating. Then everything Noah blurted out before storming off has been spinning in my mind. I know he despises his dad, but how can I not feel anxious about what might happen if what he told me was the truth?
What if I’m risking everything for a man who will get bored of me in a month? A year? What if he’s only doing this out of obligation? I can’t stop thinking about how this ends. This isn’t a fairy tale. We don’t get to ride off into the sunset. We’ll have to deal with society judging us. What will his friends think? Colleagues, coworkers? What if I’m not suited for his sophisticated world?
I’m second-guessing everything.
And part of me feels like Jackson is pulling away because of it. It’s me giving him an out, and he’s taking it.
In the midst of all this, Mom told me she has cancer. Stage four breast cancer. For the past year, she tried to tell me. Call after call, I refused to pick up. I couldn’t give her a second of my time so she could tell me she was dying. What kind of daughter does that? I could have cherished that time with her. But I was too consumed by my anger to listen. And now, I hate myself for it. I could have taken leave from school to be closer.
She stayed a few more days, but the visit took a toll on her. To my surprise, Jackson set up in-home chemo treatments and connected her with the best oncologist money could buy. He even covered all the medical bills. Later that night, he held me as I cried myself to sleep. While I was tearing his family apart, he was saving mine.
With Noah gone, my mom’s cancer, and dealing with Vince’s death and his mother somehow still not behind bars, I was drained. Jackson, too, is barely holding on. He hasn’t slept in days, and the exhaustion in his eyes and on his unshaven face is unmistakable, though I find his scruff strangely appealing. He walks over, placing a kiss on my forehead. “That was your mom’s oncologist. Chemo seems to be helping. Her blood cell count is finally on the rise.”
Dr. Phillips chimes in, handing Jackson a form. “See? Good news all around. Take care of yourself, Georgia.”
“Thanks, Doc. You too.” Then he’s gone.
“You ready?” Jackson asks.
No. “Yeah.”
“Let me help you.” Rolling a wheelchair toward me. “Hospital policy.”
He settles me into the chair and wheels us out. Outside, William is ready and waiting with the car, a warm smile on his face.
“Morning, Miss Price,” he greets with a slight nod.
“Hey, William.” They help me into the car. My body is still extremely sore, and I’m still getting used to the awkward bulk of my leg cast. The ride home is quiet, tension filling the car, and Jackson takes a call. I can’t help but feel it’s an excuse to avoid conversation.
When we arrive at his estate, he helps me inside. The house feels different now. Empty without Noah. Jackson gently sets me up on the couch in the media room, arranging the pillows to ensure I’m comfortable. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? I can make you something or order in.”
“I’m fine. I just want to lie down.”
“Right. Let me get you upstairs—”
“No. Here’s fine. This way, I can watch TV.”
His smile wavers. It’s clear he knows I’m avoiding going to the bedroom with him. “All right. How about a movie?”
“I just want to take a nap.”
“Right. Okay,” he says softly. “I’ll leave you be. I’ll be in my office finishing up some work.” He steps forward, places a lingering kiss on my forehead, and walks away without another glance. The quiet retreat of his footsteps stirs that uncertainty inside me, and the tears I’ve been holding back spill over. They’ve been doing that a lot lately. I rest my head against the pillow and close my eyes. Tears fall as I drift into a restless sleep.