Total pages in book: 200
Estimated words: 189898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 760(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 189898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 760(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
I kept my gaze on Emily, but I could see Houston and Loren shift. I knew they were looking at each other and silently forming a plan. Because they hadn’t given in to the inevitable yet—the truth that there was only one way we were getting to Braxton.
One of us would have to go down.
“I cannot believe you,” Emily said as tears, real tears, fell. “I was there for you! She wasn’t! You were supposed to love me.”
“That’s not her fault, Em. It’s mine. I should have waited. Braxton was out there, but I was too busy pretending with you.”
“Pretending? Oh, yeah? Well, she’s dead now, so you can go be with that bitch.”
I wasn’t looking at Emily when she aimed for my heart. I was staring at my friends and memorizing their faces as they rushed to stop Emily before she could pull the trigger.
Too late.
Where was I?
Everything hurt. Everything.
I slowly lifted my hand and whimpered my frustration when it seemed to take all of my energy and concentration too.
Had it always been this hard?
I didn’t think so.
My eyes were still closed, and I didn’t want to open them. I couldn’t be sure of what I’d find. I was slowly becoming aware of all the telltale signs—the beeping machines, the antiseptic, the bed underneath me, the bandaging my stiff fingers found wrapped around my head, and the sensor clamped on my finger.
Hospital.
I was in a hospital.
And I couldn’t remember why.
I searched for my name. Another sound of distress, louder now, ripped from me when I couldn’t find it.
“Baby?” a voice croaked. It was masculine, cultured, and full of disbelief. Or was that hope? He sounded a little groggy, too, like he’d been sleeping. Had I woken him?
I know you.
But I didn’t know me.
I recognized his voice, but I couldn’t remember his name.
Or mine.
“Braxton?” This voice was different—melodious and strong. I recognized him too. He’d make a wonderful vocalist.
And now I knew my name.
Braxton.
I was Braxton.
How did I get here?
Why was I here?
I listened to the chairs scrape the floor when they hurriedly rose, and then their soft footfalls coming closer as I waited for the answer that never came. I fell asleep before they could reach me, and I welcomed the darkness.
Being awake was just too hard.
A baby was crying.
I frowned and flinched when the sound reached a high-pitch. It pierced my bruised skull and already aching brain. I couldn’t stop my groan.
“Why don’t you take Braxen out into the hall until he settles?” my mother suggested immediately after.
My heart started racing at the sound of her voice. I quickly grabbed for her name and rejoiced when it came. Amelia Fawn.
My mother’s name was Amelia, and she was here.
“Okay,” my sister said with a reluctant sigh. I heard her stand and quickly leave with her baby.
Rosalie.
My baby sister had come. She’d had her son a few months ago, and she named him after me.
I remembered.
Or at least…I was starting to.
I still didn’t know why or how long I’d been here.
My lips quivered at the possibilities. My muscles tensed, ice crept up my fingertips, goose bumps peppered my skin, and my heart pounded so hard it made my chest hurt.
I couldn’t be sure of what any of it meant, though.
Because the phantom smell of copper that always told me when I was afraid was missing. Nothing lingered in the air as my body tried to warn me of my rising panic.
Nothing at all.
So I passed out again.
“Braxton?” my mother called out to me. She was still here, and I was once again wondering how long it had been.
I didn’t answer right away.
I was too busy trying to recall basic motor functions like opening my eyes.
They’d never felt so heavy.
Eventually, I managed to force my lids to part, only to snap them shut again to shield them from the bright light.
“I’ll get the doctor,” my father announced before leaving the room.
He was here too? I thought he hated me. I didn’t know how I felt about his presence because there were no tastes or smells to tell me.
I whimpered.
I didn’t understand this new reality, but I also wasn’t sure if I wanted to go back. It was too soon to tell.
One step at a time.
I forced my eyes open again and kept them pried.
Who died?
It was my first thought when I looked around the room.
There were flowers.
Everywhere.
All different kinds.
No roses, though, thank God.
The hospital room looked like a florist shop. What the hell? My mother smiled down at me, unaware of where my attention was fixed and the confusion marring my brow.
“Welcome back, Braxton.”
“W—” I swallowed when I found speech difficult. Why was my mouth so dry? As soon as I lifted my head, the room began to spin, so I forced it back onto the pillow, closed my eyes, and waited for the dizziness to pass.