Cuts Like An Angel Read Online Free

hours.”
    William’s heart strummed as he examined the contents, pulling out the slip of paper. It was a sign. It had to be. He flipped the leaflet over.
    “They’re good if you can't get hold of Carly for whatever reason. They can get hold of us if you need it.”
    “I’ll keep it safe,” he mumbled. But he had no intention of calling the number for the reason the doctor suggested. He had much bigger ideas. They began on the back of the paper, in small letters that read Volunteer here. Apply online .
    It really was a sign.
     
     

Chapter Two
    Rosie
    Rosie stumbled, literally, out of the hospital doors and into the blinding arms of the 11:00 a.m. Tuesday morning. She squinted and paused, looking around. Shit, where had she parked? She scanned the parking lot, feeling like she’d been at work for twelve days, instead of twelve hours. Putting a hand over her brow, she shook her head. “Big dummy,” she muttered.
    Her gaze paused at a guy sitting on the cement bench, next to the bus stop. In two seconds she realized he seemed familiar. She tried to place him just as he turned and locked gazes with her. Crap . The way he looked at her said she was right about knowing him. The stare became one of needing to recall who he was or glance away. Was he a fellow worker at the hospital maybe?  She decided to toss a wave and smile, because she was at stalker-weird staring point now.
    Aaaaand he didn’t wave back. Just … sat staring.  Ooookay. She hurried into the parking lot, embarrassed to hell, only to realize she’d still not located her car.
    Dead tired, dead stupid, and dead dumb. That’s the same as stupid, stupid. She paused and stood for several seconds. The last shred of self-preservation gave her the bright idea to pretend to check her purse for something. Keys, look for your keys. She gazed around as though appreciating the gorgeous day just as her fingers touched on her sunglasses. She pulled them out and slid them on—officially out of stall time. At least the tint of the shades felt like a protective wall as she went back to locating her vehicle.
    Where the Goddamn hell did she park? Geeze, he was probably staring at her. The notion suddenly produced a burning on her backside. She hoped to God her panty lines weren’t half way up one side of her ass.
    She turned enough to put him in her peripheral vision. Not finding him, she causally swung her eyes right over the bench he’d occupied.
    Oh my God. He’s not even there. You idiot.
    She looked around the parking lot, again, and finally found her stupid Volkswagen.  She headed casually toward it; no hurry, no rush. Woman of confidence and leisure, that’s what she was. And no life.
    Stop your whining. What you seriously need is a lick of self-esteem. Jacking love interests off a random guy who happened to randomly glance your way? Really? Correction: glance through you.
    She unlocked her car, peeking one last time for any signs of the guy. Still none.
    The dinosaur that lived in the door hinge, gave its tormented squeal as she opened it. She was glad he was gone, or else she’d have to find reasons to take forever just to not have to start that thing she called transportation.
    Her Volkswagen was like that hole in your shoe—too big to hide. Or the sign over your life that said Failure in progress.
    “Or disaster waiting to happen,” she mumbled, turning the rear-view mirror her way and removing her sunglasses. “Oh, dear God,” she whispered at her reflection. “You look like the walking dead.” She gave a light snort at the puffy-lidded eyes staring back at her. “That’s why the man stared for more than a second. And why are you obsessing over a guy staring at you for a couple of seconds?” she mumbled to herself. “Quit talking to your reflection,” she added, turning the mirror away.  “You’re at the right place to go crazy, Rosie.” She shoved the key into the ignition. “Maybe if you went to one of the hundred parties they’re