Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 94903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“Are we done with this conversation?” I ask, exhausted.
“Please?”
“How about you let me go upstairs and get my manicure stuff, and we can do our nails?”
“And not talk about sex?”
“That would be phenomenal.”
She grins. “I’ll find the remote so we can see who the bandanna man is.”
I climb off the stool. “What?”
“Your show. We’ll finish it while we do our nails.”
I smile at the pretty girl in front of me. I see why Chase worries about her. He’d be wrong not to be concerned, but something tells me Kennedy will be okay.
She’s a lot smarter and stronger than he gives her credit for.
I head toward the hallway when she stops me.
“Megan?”
“Yeah?”
“You’ll be a really good mom someday.”
All I can do is return her smile because if I try to speak, she’ll hear the lump in my throat.
I walk toward the stairs with my head held slightly higher.
Perhaps she’s right. Maybe I could be a good mom someday.
Will I ever trust someone enough to share a child with them?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chase
“Three hours of sleep is getting rough,” Jason says, yawning as he climbs out of his work truck.
“You’re telling me.” Imagine how rough it is when you’re getting used to sneaking into a woman’s room in the middle of the night and instead wake up in a shanty motel alone. “I don’t know how long I can do this shit.”
“Well, I’ve got bills to pay and mouths to feed. I’ll be doing this shit for the rest of my life.”
“You just got spoiled, Marshall,” Robbie says, clamping a hand down on my sore shoulder. “You got out of the habit of traveling since the front office let you stay close to home for so long.”
I shove his hand off me.
The sun isn’t up yet, and the sky is just starting to wake up. Our crew worked until two this morning before we returned to our hotel to catch a few hours of rest.
The storm that ripped through central Illinois was a doozy. Power lines and poles are down everywhere, and if locals stopped asking us when the power would come back on, it’d be on much faster.
And I could go home a lot faster, too.
“I’m gonna go call the office and check in,” I say. “You guys good?”
Jason nods. “Yeah. I’m gonna down this coffee, and then we’ll start prepping to restring this section.”
“I’ll be back.”
I stomp through the tall grass and splash across the creek parallel to the road. The cab of my truck is still warm as I slide back into my seat.
“This sucks,” I say, setting my hard hat on the seat beside me.
I stare at the horizon and watch the day's first sun rays begin to tease their way into the sky. Something is calming about the sun rising. Dad always said that the sun coming up was a sign that you get a new start. All of yesterday’s mistakes were erased in the night. I liked that idea growing up, and I’ve kept it with me my whole life.
Despite my exhaustion and anxiety about getting home, peace is floating through my veins. I’m usually a barrel of nerves when I’m away. Even if it’s Mom with Kennedy, I still feel like something is amiss if I’m not there. I keep waiting for that to come back—to encounter the rock in my stomach and the acid pit at the base of my throat. I’m so familiar with them both.
But they fail to appear.
I could get used to this.
My eyes close, and I sigh easily, thinking of Megan.
I wonder what she’s doing and if she’s enjoying her morning. I laugh as I imagine her stomping around the kitchen, pretending to be good with being up before the sun. She’s so damn cute when she moseys into the kitchen like she’s not there to see me—as if she needs coffee that early. Sometimes I want to laugh at or tease her, but I don’t. I don’t want to chance having her stop coming.
I grab my phone and find Kennedy’s name. I recheck the time, ensuring she’s still home before school, and then press the green button.
“Hey, Dad,” she says.
“You sound chipper.”
“Well, I’m not. I can’t find my black Jordans, and I know I put them in the mudroom, and they’re not there.”
“Huh. Did you ask Megan?”
“Yeah. And you know what she said?”
I grin. “No, I do not.”
“She said she didn’t wear them.”
I can’t help it. I laugh.
“That’s something you would say. You didn’t tell her to say that, did you?” she asks.
“Although I don’t wear them either, did you check in the dining room?”
“Why would they be there?”
I scratch the top of my head. “Because I think I remember you tossing them around the corner the other day so I wouldn’t see them when I told you to take them to your room.”