Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
I laugh, but I don’t let her go.
Brady sees right through it, his teasing fading into something quieter, something knowing, and I return his small smile with one of my own.
His attention shifts to Paige then. “By the way, Little Miss Baker, where are those raspberry scones you whipped up?”
Paige smiles and stretches across me, grabbing the Tupperware full of the treats he’s after and tossing it his way.
Everyone seems to be in a pretty good place, even though the season ended earlier than we wanted. Finals are coming up on Monday. Just another reason why it’s not quite the right time to tell them. No one needs the extra weight right now, least of all from me.
“Hey, so are we still good to go look for some boxes on Sunday?” Brady asks around a mouthful of scone.
I nod, and Paige glances up at me in question. “You’re looking at me like I’m supposed to remember something.”
She chuckles. “Dinner with my grandpa before I head back to his place to help plan our trip.”
Right. While we’re all supposed to head to the beach house, Paige is going to take her first family vacation with her grandfather. They haven’t picked a destination yet, but I’m betting it will be somewhere expensive. And far away.
I tell myself what I’ve been telling myself since she mentioned it last week: This is a good thing. I can go home, spend some time with my dad and see what else I can sell other than the football cards I pawned this week, and maybe I’ll have a job and a place before she even gets back home.
I realize Brady is still looking at me, waiting for an answer and try not to swallow.
“Monday after finals?”
“Works for me. It’s not like I’m taking much home yet.” He chuckles.
“Hey!” Cam smacks him, head still buried in her textbook. “I want to start packing on Monday, that way I can take those last few days to really go through everything and see what I need to leave and what can go.”
I might have convinced everyone we should take some things to the beach house when we head out next week. I didn’t think anyone would go for it, seeing as they still have one full semester here, but surprisingly, they agreed, planning to leave not much more than their clothes and necessities behind. It was the only thing I could think of so that when they saw me loading up my things, no one would question it.
“So, Monday afternoon?” I double-check.
“Yep.” He nods. “I’m staying the night at Cam’s Sunday, and I’ve got no finals till Tuesday, so just pull up when you’re done and we’ll go.”
Panic flairs and I tense. “Actually, can we take your truck?”
He frowns for half a second but shrugs it off a moment later and digs into his second scone.
It’s a little after two when I make an excuse to leave a bit early, letting Paige know I’ll call her later tonight before bed.
I head to the little pizza place down the road and pull into the parking lot, my shoulders falling when I see the Help Wanted sign is no longer hanging in the window. I never did get a call.
That’s all right.
I’ve got a good eight or so other applications out right now. Someone is bound to call.
Unless every other college student is looking for work over the break too, but then again, my availability won’t end in January.
The sound of gravel crunching has me turning. A blue Bronco pulls in, one of the ancient ones with only the doors and the long, massive window in the back—the one I was told to look out for.
I open the glove box, pulling out the single paper that now sits inside.
My fingers run over the edges slowly.
Maybe it’s dumb, but I feel like I’m betraying something, like I’m handing over a part of my identity. But then again, who even am I now?
I climb from the cab, forcing a smile as I reach the old man who exits the vehicle first. The guy in the passenger seat is out next, and of course he’s wearing an AU baseball hat, a wide grin on his face as he circles my truck.
He slips inside, revs the engine, and pops the hood, disappearing under it while I stand back, a hint of guilt in my gut.
When he comes back, his grandfather at his side, it’s with a white envelope and a smile.
He holds it out and I take it, passing him the pink slip in return.
“Thanks, man,” he says. “She’s a beauty.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “She is. My dad took good care of her.”
He slips inside it and drives away.
I watch as my truck rolls down the road, its new owner behind the wheel.
I look down at the envelope in my hand.