Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
He was so protective and reliable, and there was a sense of peace that came with him. I felt it, and I had no doubt Anslee felt it, too. And he was kind and cared about our happiness, which is why he’d stood as lookout, waiting for the line for the carousel to go down.
They were little things, but over time, they added up.
Children around us were smiling and laughing, and Anslee couldn’t have been more excited. That alone should’ve been enough to keep me from looking out into the crowd for Brayden, but it wasn’t.
I looked back over at the spot where he’d been minutes before, and when I didn’t see him, I scanned the food vendors and the game booths. But there was no sign of him. My chest tightened, and I had to fight the urge to cry as the carousel carried us around and around.
And with each time around, my disappointment grew. I’d spent two years imagining what I’d say if I ever saw him again, and all I could muster were a few awkward words. Now, he was gone.
The ride continued, and as we glided up and down, I found myself thinking about the leather vest he was wearing and the tattoos that peeked out from beneath his sleeves. He looked so different than the image I’d carried around in my head, and it got me thinking about the first time we met. My lips pulled into a slight smile as I thought about the night that changed everything.
It was the middle of winter, during an Arkansas cold snap.
The wind cut straight through you and settle in your bones. Snow had been falling for hours, and the shelter where I’d been volunteering was packed. Every bed was claimed, along with every chair and every mat.
We’d taken in more than we were allowed, and even though we hated it, we had no choice but to start turning people away. We knew there was a good chance that some of them wouldn’t survive the night, but we didn’t have a choice.
The fire marshal had already given us three warnings for overcrowding. If we got one more, they’d shut us down, so we would send them down the street to the next shelter and hope they had room. Once everyone was settled, we started winding down for the night. I grabbed a couple of bags of trash and headed out the back to the dumpster.
I stepped outside and groaned when I realized the light was out again. It had been flickering on and off for days, and no one had done anything about it. I was ready to get home, so I ignored that voice in my head that said to turn back, and I rushed toward the dumpster instead.
I lifted the lid and tossed the bags into the bin before turning back toward the building. That’s when I saw them. Two older men had stepped out of the darkness, blocking my path back into the shelter.
They were dirty, and their clothes hung loose around their thin frames. One was missing several teeth, and his hair was matted under his cap. The other looked like he hadn’t shaved in months, and his left eye was a bit off-center.
Their appearance didn’t bother me. I’d been volunteering at the shelter for months. I’d seen people struggling first-hand, but it was the way these men looked at me that scared me. And the fact that they reeked of alcohol didn’t help matters. One of them stepped forward as he asked, “You got any money?”
“No.”
“Come on. We know ya do. Hand it over.”
“No, I really don’t.”
The second man stepped closer, and every instinct I had screamed at me to leave. I started backing toward the door, and he barked, “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I need to get back inside… They’re waiting on me.”
One of them grabbed my arm, and fear shot through me. “Let go!”
I yanked against his grip, but he just held on tighter. And suddenly, I realized just how dumb it was to be out there alone. Joseph, one of the lead staff members, was always warning us about taking risks we had no business taking.
I wished I’d listened.
Maybe then, I wouldn’t be standing in a dark alley, in the freezing snow, with two intoxicated homeless men, wondering what they were going to do to me. I opened my mouth to scream, but before I could make a peep, a voice cut through the night.
“Let her go.”
All three of us turned, and I thought I was imagining things when a man stepped out of the shadows. He was tall, broad-shouldered, but lean. He looked to be only a year or two older than me, but he didn’t look afraid or uncertain. He looked annoyed, and you could hear it in his voice when he growled, “I said, let her go.”