Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
“Because he needs emergency surgery! And with his meds and the anesthesia—”
“He doesn’t have a DNR, Maisy. Go tell them.” I’m trying not to scream. “Jesus, what happened? Have they cut him open? Is it his heart?”
“No. Nothing like that yet.”
“The medications again? I swear to God, if that quack didn’t give him the right dosage—”
“He had a fall. An accident,” she says quickly, sniffing back tears. “I woke up really early and must’ve made too much noise, so he got up too. He went out there when it was still dark for the morning paper. I was making coffee when I noticed he was gone too long... I found him on the sidewalk. Banged up and barely breathing. Those stupid stairs, I told him we should have gotten the railing fixed and so did you.”
“Yeah,” I say weakly. “So he’s still in one piece, though?”
“He broke a rib, I think, and passed out from the shock. They said a lot. Something about muscle damage too, I dunno. They had to look through a lot of records and sort out his meds before they could do anything.”
My hand flutters over my mouth.
God, I knew this trip was a bad idea.
I should have stayed home, Brock Winthrope and his caveman charms be damned.
And there I was in bed—waking up from the time of my life with my boss—while my dad was flat on the cold ground suffering.
I’m a craptacular daughter and a fail of a sister.
Maisy bursts into tears I know she’s barely held in then, rubbing salt in the wound.
“Mais, are you—”
“I’m fine,” she lies. But she starts crying harder, turning my heart into gravel. “Pippa, I’m just scared.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I should have told Winthrope to go to hell and stayed home. I knew something would happen if I wasn’t there—”
“What would you have done that I didn’t? I did the best I could!”
Shit. She’s right.
I sigh.
“Maisy, this isn’t your fault, and you shouldn’t be alone. Can you call Trina and her mom? I’m sorry. I’ll get home ASAP. Let me pack and check my flight options.”
“I thought you weren’t coming back until later?”
“I’ll find a commercial flight if I have to.”
“Are you sneaking out on me?” a masculine voice says behind me.
“Who’s that?” Maisy asks.
I whip around and see Brock’s silhouette in the doorway, rubbing his eyes, yawning like the tiger of a man he is.
“I’ll call you back in a few minutes, okay? Just make sure they know he doesn’t have a DNR.”
“DNR?” Brock says sharply.
I sigh. My life is a cosmic joke.
“I have to go. Just make sure he’s okay.”
“Piper, what the hell is going on?” Brock demands, scratching his chin.
I turn around to face my executioner, who’s dressed in nothing but boxers.
If it were any other morning, I’d be at his total mercy. But now...
“Good, you’re awake. I think I forgot my keycard last night—”
“What?”
“And I’m not sure where my other shoe is.”
“It’s in the bedroom doorway—but what’s happening?”
“Would it be a problem if I took a regular flight home soon? And can you call someone about my room key? I just need to get a new one ASAP so I can—”
He closes the space between us and snatches my hand so quickly I gasp.
“Piper, what the fuck? Who were you just on the phone with? And who do you need them to take care of?”
“My little sister,” I say distantly.
“Is she okay?”
“Yeah. But...but my dad isn’t.” My throat stings when I say it.
He closes his arms around me, all bright-blue eyes searching mine.
“What happened?”
“He had a fall. He’s in the hospital now. He has some issues—a lot of medications—so they asked Maisy if he has a DNR. She understandably freaked, assuming the worst, but I’m hoping it’s just standard procedure. But I can’t be here—”
I stop, watching him tear away and march through the room. He picks up the phone on the table and calls the front desk.
“This is Brock Winthrope. Have Piper Renee’s room packed and her belongings brought to my suite immediately.”
Someone on the other end must say something he doesn’t like.
“Just do it, I said. Don’t make me ask twice. I’ll expect everything in ten minutes. Move your asses.” He slams the phone down and guides me over to the couch.
“Um, there goes our cover,” I point out.
“We’ve found what we needed to here. And I’ll need to make a few more calls. Do you want to wait here?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I just need to get home.”
“I’m going to get you there. Your belongings probably won’t be here for a few, so come sit.” He motions to the couch and disappears into the bedroom suite.
I collapse on it under the weight of my own dark thoughts.
Will I ever see my dad alive again?
I totally get why Maisy was having a nervous breakdown.