Love Is More Than Skin Deep (A Hidden Hearts Novel Book 4) Read Online Free Page B

creepy, you’ll probably have to redecorate my room.”
    If that weren’t enough, Jade’s mom, Diamond, told me about some volunteer opportunities at the library where I would be able to use my teaching degree. When I expressed concerns about my ability to work consistently because of the cancer, Diamond just hugged me and said that they would work around whatever schedule I was able to work. It’s not the job that I wanted, and it’s not a paid opportunity, but it’s better than moping around at home watching game shows and soap operas. It’s the first time since I got my diagnosis that I have hope that I might have some semblance of normalcy in my everyday life.

    I look across the car at Mark as he weaves his way through traffic. “You didn’t really have to do this, I could’ve caught the bus or something,” I comment. “I thought you had a trial today.”
    “I did, but the docket got rearranged because the other side is bringing in an expert witness and they weren’t available.”
    “What happens when I have an appointment and your schedule doesn’t get conveniently rearranged?” I challenge.
    “I’ll figure something out,” Mark answers with a shrug. “I have to do that all the time with Ketki. It comes with the territory of being a single dad.”
    “But… Mark … argh ,” I sputter with frustration. “I’m not your kid. I’m some random stranger you literally picked up off the ground, you don’t have to do all this for me,” I argue.
    “Shelby, I can’t explain it, but I need to be here. Since the first time I saw you at Ink’d, I knew you’d be in my life.”
    I curl away from him and face toward the door. His words frighten me — they are too much like the words Josiah Frachcett used to lure my parents away from reality. I know that too many sweet words, charm and charisma can cost lives. I might be deathly ill, but I’m not stupid enough to fall into that trap. I won’t be gullible like my parents; I’ve come too far. I’ve worked too hard. I cannot be like the little girl I once was.
    Just then, the car ahead of us abruptly stops. Mark throws his arm out to shield me from the dashboard. It’s a sweet gesture but, completely unnecessary. I am a compulsive seatbelt wearer. I spent too many years being bounced around in the back of a bus to forgo the luxury of being secure in my seat.
    Mark takes a good look at me after we are stopped in traffic. “What’s wrong? You’re extremely pale — are you feeling ill?” he asks, his voice laced with concern.
    It’s a funny thing about living on the edge of not knowing whether you’re close to dying. You get a little braver and tend to say the things that you might not otherwise say.
    I blow my bangs out of my eyes as I respond, “I guess you can say an unhappy trip down memory lane caught up with me for a second.”
    “What do you mean?” asks Mark.
    “I’d tell you, but I think we’re probably almost to the hospital and it’s going to take more time than that.”
    Mark sits up a little taller in the driver’s seat and cranes his neck. He turns to me with a frown as he reports, “I hate to break it to you, but I think we’re going to be here for a little bit.”
    “Oh no, what about my appointment?” I fret, as I nervously shake my Diet Mountain Dew. The ice melted long ago. Now I’m just fidgeting.
    “As backed up as the freeway is, I suspect that the personnel at the hospital already knows. You can call them and let them know to be sure.”
    “I think I’ll do that,” I offer. Unfortunately, when I try to call the doctor’s office, I hear nothing but a busy signal.
    Mark sees my frustration and he just takes my drink from me and makes a motion for me to hand him my phone. “Relax, no one is going anywhere fast. I think we’re going to be here for a while. They will understand; if you’re late, chances are, some of the doctors are going to be late too. I wouldn’t worry about it; If you can’t get through,