Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
“What do we do if my parents come home?” she whimpers.
But I kiss her mouth and her forehead. “Shhh.” I tremble. “Enough questions.”
I’m guessing I only have about thirteen-thousand breaths left.
Every one of them is for her.
Hours later, I let her peel herself away to go to Frosted. I was tempted to hide away with her all day, but more than anything, I need to make her safe.
I get busy, putting my affairs in order in case shit goes down tonight.
My father’s dress coat, cap, and framed picture sit in a single box by themselves. I close the lid and slide it into a corner in one of Madoc’s storerooms in his basement.
I restack boxes he already had here on top of it and back away, dusting off my hands on my pants.
My stomach aches with hunger, but visions of carrying her to bed just two hours ago—not to sleep—already make my body miss her more than food. Poor thing didn’t get any rest before she had to run off to work.
Backing out of the room, I take a picture in my brain, shut off the light, and close the door. If I tell Madoc the truth—and the police—I need to deliver Drew. It’s time to lure him out.
I release the handle, memorizing the smooth feel of the knob. Who will open this room next? Kade? Fallon? Maybe the door won’t be opened again for a year. I can’t imagine they need to sift through old suitcases and yearbooks very often. But at least my father’s things are safe and with people I love.
I head down the hall, past Madoc’s liquor storage and a bathroom, coming into the main room of the basement. Spinning in a slow circle, I take in the leather couch, the bar long enough for ten stools, and the piano. This was where Madoc taught me to play pool when I was fourteen. Where I helped Fallon build a haunted house for Halloween for the kids when they were little. This was where I got drunk for the first time. I still don’t think Madoc knows about that.
I don’t know why I feel like I’m saying goodbye, but throughout my life, I’ve been in rooms I’ll never walk into again. I’ve seen people whose paths I’ll never recross. There are movies I’ve watched for the last time and songs I’ll never hear again and foods that life will never give me a chance to retry. Someday, I’m going to talk to Madoc, and I won’t even realize it’ll be the last time. Maybe today is that day.
Hands trembling, I spin in another slow circle, hearing the music in my memory and feeling the cold can of beer on my mouth from that one summer night ten years ago when I thought life could never get any better.
I felt the worst I’ve ever felt in my life in this town. And I’ve also felt the best. Fuck, I love them.
Leaving the empty house—Madoc and Fallon at work and the kids at camp—I roll down the windows in Jared’s car and drive. My heart rises into my throat the farther I race away from the house.
Whistles from people’s remaining fireworks continue to pierce the air of the otherwise quiet, summer day. Businesses bustle with activity, JT Racing has both bay doors open as they move vehicles in and out, and the public pool swarms with families trying to find some relief in the heat.
What would I be doing today if I didn’t have to worry about Hugo Navarre or Drew Reeves? I crack a brief grin, seeing myself helping Jax at Fallstown, or Juliet up at the camp, or working on Quinn’s new house. There’s so much to do. The floors need to be leveled and the drywall repaired, but I know as soon as I opened the walls, I’d see electrical and plumbing that needed repairing first. Maybe Madoc would be helping me? And Lance? Beers and laughs and friends.
Climbing up Lake Lane, I spot a car parked at the end of a dirt driveway, a For Sale sign taped to the windshield. Hitting the brakes, I stop and put my arm over the back of the seat, looking behind me as I reverse the car.
Jeep Wrangler. Maybe an ’06 or ’07. Older than I’d like, but a lot cheaper than a new car. She wouldn’t throw a fit at me spending the money on her. Hopefully.
It’s white and has a soft-top with a little rust, but brand new tires from the looks of it. Seven thousand or best offer.
Shifting the Boss into gear, I punch the gas and race off, away from town. Heat radiates off the pavement, making the air smell like tar and hot leather, but I don’t bother turning on the AC because the wind feels too good. For one more minute, I enjoy the idea of just grabbing Quinn and jetting off. Out of town for the rest of the day, somewhere I don’t have to be on guard and or worried anyone will see us.