The Cowboy's Redemption: BWWM Billionaire Western Romance Read Online Free PDF

can be, mom, when dad—himself—went to pick up the body of client’s friend not two days after the man died in a fucking drive by. And he cannot afford to do the same for his own blood?”
    As expected his mother broke down into tears, babbling about one thing or another without restraint as Warren sat back and felt his disgust mount. When he couldn’t take it any more, Warren uttered an abrupt goodbye and squeezed the end call button with a growl.
    It figures that that would do the trick for him. No sooner did Warren end the call did he feel his eyes burn with bitter tears. Turning the TV off, he settled on staring up at the ceiling, rubbing his right palm angrily over his face as the tears dribbled down the corners of his eyes.
    At least his sister would not longer have to deal with the grand disappointment that was their parents. The though didn’t make him feel any better, in fact. Warren felt so horribly bereft… he felt so terribly alone.
    That evening, Warren carved constellations into the dots above him with ice cold eyes, ignoring the presence of pretty nurses and gawky doctors that stumbled through words until they stumbled back out. He wanted to be left alone, and he desperately wanted to not be left alone.
    The end result came in the form of a woman he hadn’t really expected to make an appearance.
    --

Chapter 8
    --
    The bags under her eyes had transformed into permanent shadows, cutting into her cheekbones and making her look as bad as she felt. Sleeping had felt like slipping into black cloth that spun around her and tightened her body into an awful coccoon. Melinda would soon wake, wrapped in sweat-drenched sheets and a headache. She would attempt to fulfill her routines: Running at 6 am, breakfast at 7:30, be at work at 8:15 before she tackled patient after patient. It didn’t much work sometimes… Sometimes she couldn’t even sleep. She’d just lay on a cold bed and stare into her ceiling, finding obtuse figures in the designs above and fiddle with imaginative imagery that she hoped could lull her to dreamless sleep.
    Today wasn’t any different, and the on-going pattern was making its mark on her bones.
    She checked in at the usual time, half-heartedly greeting patients with warm smiles and cooler hugs. To her dismay, Richards was in the locker room just as she walked in to drop off her belongings and switch into her coat.
    “Good morning!” the surgeon greeted cheerily, his smile overly sweet. The urge to kick him returned, but Melinda was far too tired to entertain moving all the way to his side. Besides, he wasn’t worth the warning from the Head.
    “Morning,” Melinda greeted curtly, arriving to her locker.
    “You know, if you keep pulling doubles, you’re going to wither away.” Richards stated.
    “Your concern is heart-warming,” she drawled.
    “Don’t misunderstand, I want you out of here as much as the next guy,” Melinda rolled her eyes. “But in all honesty, Melinda, you keep showing up like a walking corpse eventually people will forget they’re coming to a hospital.”
    “You just love listening to yourself talk, don’t you?”
    When she glanced over, Richards was giving a shrug. “Just think about it, Resano, and finish taking your shift early like a normal person.”
    Walking out of the locker room, Melinda seethed inwardly. If there was one thing she hated, above anything else, was listening to Richards go on like the smug bastard he was. If there was one thing worse, it was knowing the smug bastard was right.
    She knew why she was pushing herself. She was doing this whole thing for a cause: making sure that she would never deal with losing another patient like she had lost Eddie. Men like Richards could sit back and piss all day about their work and watch the money come pouring in, because men like Richards often sent someone else to give the condolences to the families of those who didn’t make it. Men like Richards came to work to do their job, laugh at those