“Matt?” I ask, watching his hand move again. I race to the bed. “Matt?”
I know I should press the button they always press on TV when things like this happen, or at the very least go tell Buck his son is waking up, but I’m so frozen in place that I can barely breath.
His eyes flutter once, twice, and three times before they open and he’s staring at the ceiling. He turns to me, looking tired but quite like himself with an impish grin.
“K. Sawyer,” he says. “How long have I been out for?”
I choke back tears and check the time again. “Like seven hours,” I answer.
He nods, as if in approval. “That must have been some hit.” He gives my hand a squeeze and I squeeze back.
“You remember it?” I ask, taking this as a good sign without any medical knowledge.
Before he can answer, Matt’s eyes widen and he looks panicked, which causes me to press the call button and shout toward the door for someone.
“Matt?” I ask above the thrash of his hands against the sheets. He looks like he’s having a psychotic episode. “Matt, what are you doing? Are you okay?”
Before he can answer me, two nurses, Buck, Dan, and a doctor race into the room and one of them asks the same thing.
“Matt? Matt what’s going on?”
He ignores them, turning his head to capture me in his wild stare. “My legs,” he croaks out. “I can’t feel my legs!”
Acknowledgements
First and foremost, I want to thank my unwavering beta readers for their support and encouragement over the last fourteen months. They read a third of the book before I trashed it and started over from scratch, then read the whole thing again with me—some of them twice. Laura, Krystle, Dimitra, Liz, Sally, Nicole, and Megan, thank you, from the bottom of my stormy heart.
Charles. It’s quite the life, living with another writer. Because we both know. But over the last year, you’ve held my hand through some pretty awful things, and you never once let me give up on this book, or myself. It got dicey there for a while, and you stood firm in your resolve for me and for my work. The only way to repay you is to keep doing what we both love: writing. I can’t wait to be your wife. I love you.
Finally, my Safe House girls. You know who you are. I love you.
Jesus Freaks The Broken Ones Copyright © 2016 Andrea Randall
Cover and Interior design by Charles Sheehan-Miles
Published by Cincinnatus Press, PO Box 814, South Hadley MA 01075
ISBN 9781632021434
www.cincinnatuspress.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author. Brief written quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews are permitted.
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Books by Andrea Randall
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Acknowledgements
The Broken Ones (Jesus Freaks #3) Page 28
