Total pages in book: 198
Estimated words: 186242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 931(@200wpm)___ 745(@250wpm)___ 621(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 931(@200wpm)___ 745(@250wpm)___ 621(@300wpm)
I didn’t mean to gasp, but I did. “Really?”
He didn’t comment on my excitement, but his hands went to that narrow waist hidden beneath the T-shirt and jeans he had on, and Mr. Rhodes dipped his chin. “Rent is half of what you paid. No visitors. You’ve got to be fine with Amos playing his guitar in the garage.”
Yes!
“I won’t let him play late, but he likes to go in there after school until the evening,” my landlord went on. His face was so no-nonsense I knew that he meant every word and was fully aware that he really hadn’t intended to let me stay but he was going against his gut and extending the invitation . . . for whatever reason.
I knew exactly what it was like when a decision cost you a lot. It wasn’t easy.
And I was going to tell myself that that’s why I took a step forward and threw my arms around him. Around the tops of the elbows that were cocked at his sides, locking his arms against his ribs because I’d surprised him and hadn’t given him a chance to brace himself, my palms meeting somewhere on his back. I hugged him. I hugged this man who could barely stand me and said, “Thank you so much. I’d love to stay. I’ll pay you every month and not invite anyone over. My only friends here so far are Clara and Mr. Nez anyway.”
The whole long length of his body stiffened under my arms.
That was my cue. I instantly jumped back and fist pumped the air twice. “Thank you, Mr. Rhodes!” Yes! “You won’t regret it!”
I don’t think I was imagining how wide his eyes had gone at some point, but I definitely wasn’t imagining how stiff his voice was as he just about stuttered, “You’re . . . welcome?”
“What would you prefer? Check? Cash? Cashier’s check?”
His alarmed face didn’t go anywhere. Neither did his crisp tone. “Either.”
“Thank you so much. I’ll pay you the day before this rental period ends and keep paying you the same day.” Wait. “How long can I stay for?”
His curly, thick lashes dropped over his eyes. He hadn’t talked himself this far into our situation, and I could tell he was thinking. “Until this arrangement stops working out or you break the rules,” he seemed to decide.
That wasn’t a concrete answer, but I could live with it.
Sure, I’d just hugged him, but I thrust my hand out between us. His eyes bounced from me to my hand and back to my face before he took it. His hold was firm and jerky, his hands dry.
And big.
“Thank you,” I told him again, relief pulsing through me.
He dipped that bristled chin of his. “The rent is going to be for Amos.”
The idea that I’d had when Amos and I had been in my car on the way to the hospital popped back up, and I hesitated for a second, debating whether or not to make the offer, but doing it anyway because it felt like the right thing to do. “Look, I can probably get him a discount on his guitar depending on who he decides he wants it through. I can’t promise, but I can try. Let me know.”
His eyebrows crept closer together, and his mouth did that twist again, but he nodded. “Thank you for the offer.” He exhaled, a much smaller and normal one this time, and I eyed his full mouth. “I’m still mad at him for going behind my back, and he’s going to stay grounded for a few months, but if you’re around after that . . .” He tipped his head to the side.
I grinned. “He told me what he wants. I’ll help you, just let me know.”
His expression went leery, but he dipped his chin.
I smiled. “Best day ever. Thank you so much for letting me stay, Mr. Rhodes.”
He opened his mouth and then closed it again before nodding, then looking away.
Okay. I took a step back. “I’ll see you later. Thank you again.”
“I heard you the first time,” he muttered.
Lord, this guy was grumpy. It made me laugh. “I really mean it. Goodnight.”
He turned around to walk away, calling out over his shoulder in what I was pretty sure was a huff, “’Night.”
I couldn’t even put into words how relieved I was. I was staying. Maybe things were starting to turn around for me.
Maybe, just maybe.
They weren’t.
My eyes popped open in the middle of the night like my bat senses were going off.
Holding my breath, I stared up at the ceiling and waited, listened. Watched. I had convinced myself it had escaped, so I wouldn’t worry about it all day.
I heard it. My eyes adjusted just as it started swooping, and I shoved part of the blanket into my mouth.
I wasn’t going to scream. I wasn’t going to scream . . .