Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 180510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 903(@200wpm)___ 722(@250wpm)___ 602(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 180510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 903(@200wpm)___ 722(@250wpm)___ 602(@300wpm)
Any. I haven’t told anyone.
He makes a lock and key motion at his lips.
I take a seat at the table, and Dr. Cornwell introduces the cases for the day. He only gets a few words in before the most cringe-worthy sound blasts from my phone at full volume.
First, I silence my phone in the morning before I shower.
Second, I don’t have songs for ringtones.
Third, I’m going to kill Colten.
It’s his name on my screen with a goofy picture of his face, like a mug shot, that I did not take. And he has the ringtone set to The Dixie Cups’ “Chapel of Love.”
Fumbling with my phone, I mute the call and send it to voicemail.
“I guess the cat’s out of the bag now.” Cornwell grins.
Heat fills my cheeks, all eyes on me … the blushing bride.
As an early wedding gift, Cornwell gives me the five-year-old girl who was found dead in her family’s swimming pool. He leads the students around the autopsy suite, spending extra time at my table. I ignore the look in his eyes, the test he’s given me.
Am I okay with a drowning victim?
Am I okay with a young girl?
Am I okay?
“What is the mechanism in acute drownings?” Cornwell asks.
“Hypoxemia and irreversible cerebral anoxia,” one of the students says as I make my Y incision.
“Good. What are the five stages of drowning?”
“Water infiltrates the airway—”
“Nope. Anyone else?” Cornwell prods.
His abrupt interruption of the first student keeps everyone else silent.
“Surprise and panic,” I say. “Then water enters the lungs. You involuntarily hold your breath. Next … lights out. In as little as thirty seconds, you’re unconscious. Respiratory arrest. You start to sink. Turn blue. Possible convulsions. Cerebral hypoxia and … death.”
“I don’t think everyone counts the last one,” one of the students says. “Because when you’re dead, you’re no longer drowning.”
I glance up at her. “What if you’re not dead?”
Her gaze darts around at the other students, but no one jumps in to save her.
After a few seconds, she clears her throat and eyes me again. “You mean if you’re not biologically dead?”
I nod, pausing my scalpel.
“You have three minutes.”
“Then what?”
“Well, your brain cells die, and your chances are kinda … non-existent.”
“Dr. Watts drowned with a gunshot wound to her abdomen,” Dr. Cornwell announces. “But she’s a freak of nature. We don’t know how long she was submerged, but it seems likely it was longer than three minutes. We’ll never know. Anyway … here she is with enough living brain cells to do her job flawlessly.”
He emphasizes the “flawlessly”. It’s his nod of approval. Another test I’ve managed to pass.
“Touch my phone again, and I will remove both of your hands, Mosley.”
Colten glances up from his desk, a little before seven. There are only a few people left on the floor. He pushes back in his chair and stands while wearing a champion’s grin. “You won’t.”
I set my bag on his desk and let him pull me into his body. “Try me.” I tilt my head back to look at him.
“You like what my hands do to you. I’d only have my tongue, and while we both enjoy what I can do with it, I think you’d miss these magical digits.” He holds up his hands and wiggles his fingers.
I glance around to see if anyone’s paying attention to us. “Everyone at work knows, yet … I haven’t told my parents.”
“They’re thrilled. Your mom screamed, and your dad did his long ‘hmm’ as if he wasn’t sure, but then he said I was the only man for you.”
“You told my parents!” I grab his shirt and jerk it.
“I’m making it happen, baby. You told me to get you to the altar. Step one: tell our family.”
Our family.
Not families.
We have a village. My parents love him, and his mom loves me. We are one family. My fingers release his shirt, and I press my hands flat to his chest. “Were they really happy?” All anger disappears.
Something about his expression softens. “You’re okay with me telling them?”
I shrug before lifting onto my toes and brushing my lips over his. “Get me to the altar, and I’ll say I do.” I kiss him.
His hands cup my face. When the kiss ends, he narrows his eyes a fraction, and he takes a seat in his chair, scratching his chin. I ease my backside onto the edge of his desk.
“I fucking love you so much.”
I smile, unsure of what to say back to him. All of my emotions clog my throat. I love him too. But it doesn’t take away my fear. Trusting him is all I can do.
Resting his elbows on the chair’s arms, he rubs his lips together before grinning. “I didn’t tell your parents. I just wanted to get you worked up, but you only gave me ten seconds of satisfaction.”