Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“So, after your Uncle Lorne came over, you and your father moved in with him?”
“Yeah. My dad needed help.”
“Right. I got that. But why move here?”
“Oh, Uncle Lorne, well, his job in Boston was like a twenty-four-seven one, and he wanted to make sure he had time for my dad and me since…”
“Since?” I prodded.
“There was some drinking and stuff with me, just like D, so now he makes sure I’m not running with the wrong crowd or…”
“Or?” I wasn’t going to let it go.
She exhaled sharply. “Yeah, so I was doing oxy and smoking pot, and my dad missed it, but Uncle Lorne saw it right away.”
“And just in case your dad misses anything again, your Uncle Lorne wants to be able to stop it before it ever gets started.”
“Yeah,” she said, exhaling deeply. “He wants to watch out for me, keep me safe. He’s got me seeing a really nice therapist in Westfield. He drives me there twice a week.”
The man worried about his niece and was taking excellent care of her. I would need to reassess what I thought of him. “You realize he’s coming off kind of awesome here.”
“He is.” She sounded pained. “I know. And I know I scared him, but I’m over that now—I’m not going back to the drugs. It’s not part of who I am anymore, but I have no idea how to convince him.”
“Only time can do that.”
Her face scrunched up. “I get that. I do. But he’s overbearing and suffocating, and my dad…he doesn’t stick up for me because he’s got just enough energy to make it through his day. When he gets home, he eats, showers, and goes to bed. The one checking in with me, the one following up on me, at school, with my friends, is Uncle Lorne.”
She sounded pitiful, and all I could do was grin.
“This is serious,” she insisted.
“Oh, I know,” I said with a chuckle.
“It’s not funny.”
“No, it’s not,” I agreed, nodding.
She tried really hard not to smile.
“It’s got to be a major buzzkill trying to make new friends, and then the chief of police rolls up to the school and says, Hey, kids, how ya doin’?” I baited her.
“Oh my God,” she groaned. “He’s so embarrassing. He was dropping me off in the morning in that SUV with the heinous blue lettering. It was horrifying.”
“I know, right? What’s with that blue?”
“It’s hideous. It really is,” she said flatly.
Delia snorted out a laugh.
“Thank God Delia told him that since she had a bike, I should get one too.”
“What happens when it snows?”
She whimpered.
“I’m getting a car,” Delia announced. “I’ll pick her up. Honestly, even if we weren’t friends, I’d still offer. No one should have to be dropped off in a police SUV.”
Clearly, it was a fate worse than death.
“It doesn’t help that he’s a grouch,” Cass continued. “I mean, he’s not like the beloved small-town police chief from all the Hallmark movies. He’s new here, and people have no idea what to make of him.”
That part was probably true.
“And you’ve met him. You know he’s not great with people. His voice gets sharp sometimes, and because he’s big and he’s got all those muscles, I think he scares them.”
“Does he scare you?”
“What? No.”
I nodded. “And your mother? Did he scare her?”
“Are you kidding? Oh my God, no. She was crazy about him. She used to tell my dad that if she’d met Uncle Lorne first, she would have married him instead.”
I smiled.
“She was kidding, of course, because if you could have seen them, my folks, together, you’d get it. They were relationship goals all the way.”
“Same with mine,” Delia said with a sigh. “They were really in love. It was so embarrassing, but I’m so glad I have lots of videos of them being all lovey-dovey.”
“I’m glad you do,” I told her.
“But yeah, my mom loved Uncle Lorne.”
“So there must be something to the man.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, giving me a faint smile.
“And you already said he takes good care of you and made sure you got the help you needed as soon as you moved here.”
“True.”
“Perhaps,” I said, grinning at her, “what with your mother loving him and him being a good guy, maybe you can try and see beyond the grouchy, growly surface to the man underneath and realize that all that surface stuff is just bluster.”
“Bluster?”
“Yeah. His outer shell is prickly, but inside he’s gooey and soft.”
“There is nothing soft and gooey about Uncle Lorne,” she said firmly.
“And yet.” I gave her a pointed look, and added, “Yes?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Think about your mom the next time you see him.”
She nodded.
“All right,” I said, my focus back on Delia. “So your aunt and uncle got you out of the hospital?”
“Oh yeah,” she said, smiling. “Uncle Troy was breathing fire that day. He got me out and drove to the house of the aunt and uncle I’d been staying with, and Aunt Rita met us there. They got all my stuff, and that was it. We were gone.”