Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 151333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 605(@250wpm)___ 504(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 605(@250wpm)___ 504(@300wpm)
“You could pay off your bills free and clear,” he adds. “You wouldn’t owe anyone anything.”
I swallow over the thick lump in my throat. “And how would I get to school and work?” My voice cracks and I swallow again. “I don’t want to buy a piece-of-junk car. That’ll end up costing me more.”
“You can drive my Subaru. It’s in great shape, low miles, it’s only five years old. I never drive it since I have my truck. You can use it as long as you want to.”
Leave it to Jude to have an extra car just sitting around.
Staring into his eyes, I can’t believe I’m even considering selling him my beloved car. But as much as I hate it, I have to consider it because he’s offering me a deal that’s impossible for me to refuse. My mouth is throbbing more by the minute, and I can’t imagine this pain continuing for days, weeks, or months. I’ll lose my mind.
I wipe a rogue tear from the corner of my eye. “What would you do with it? Are you going to sell it?” I ask.
He gives me a soft smile. “Nope. I’ll keep it in the garage and restore it someday. I’m not gonna get rid of it. It’ll be smokin’ when I’m done with it.”
I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Let him lend me money to pay my bills. I could’ve just said thank you and been grateful, instead of letting my pride and need for independence get in the way.
Skylar, you’re an idiot.
“Winter’s coming. You’ll never be able to drive the ’vette in the snow. The Subaru has four-wheel drive. It’s a helluva lot safer.”
Sniffling, I blink back hot tears. “You’ll really take care of it?” I ask. “If I do this?”
“I promise,” he says sincerely.
“And you won’t sell it? I don’t want anyone to have it. Ever. I don’t mind so much if it’s you, but no one else can have it.”
“You have my word. Someday if you want to buy it back, then it’s yours. I’d even sell it back to you for the six grand, no matter how much I put into it. But no one else will ever have it, okay?” He steps forward and touches my cheek, wiping my tears away. “I don’t want you to cry,” he says softly.
It takes me a moment to recover from the unexpected gentle touch. I take a deep breath to refocus. “And you can’t ever let a girlfriend drive it.”
He lets out a little laugh. “Really, Sparkles?”
“Yes, really. I’m not kidding. I don’t want any rando chicks driving my car.”
“Alright. That’s not gonna be a problem. We got a deal, then?”
Those intense gray eyes bore into mine, daring me to accept. I’m sure there’s a test here somewhere, but I’m not sure what the correct choice is. I just know there is one.
“I hope you have large bills,” I answer defiantly.
“’Course I do. Wait right here.”
My heart pounds and my throat aches as I wait in the kitchen. I kinda hate him right now for doing this, and I hate myself even more because I pushed him to do it.
Never look a gift horse in the mouth.
Moments later, he returns with a literal stack of hundreds and fifties in his hand. It’s more money than I’ve ever seen, and it takes me a few moments to take it. Reluctantly, I hand him the keys. My heart feels like it’s cracking into pieces. The memory of my grandfather happily jingling those same keys in front of me when he told me the car would be mine someday overwhelms me. My heart aches.
I’m so sorry, Papa.
I won’t cry.
I won’t have a meltdown.
“Don’t get too attached, Lucky. I will be buying it back someday.” I try to sound confident, maybe even a little flirty, but instead my voice quivers with emotion.
He tosses the keys in the air and catches them while flashing me his sexy, unforgettable smirk.
“Hope you like red interiors, Sparkles.”
Ugh. That teasing voice. He’s up to no good.
I glare at his muscular back as he leaves the room. As a matter of fact, red is perfect. It’s the color my grandfather and I agreed on, way back when I was excited and dreamy—because it’s the color of love.
Chapter 27
Skylar
People always tell us things will get better. And they do get better. But what people don’t tell us is that things will get worse again.
There I was, sitting in the waiting room of Dr. Katz’s office, trying not to freak out over the fact that at any moment, the nurse is going to come and take me to have my very first surgical procedure. I’m terrified of the needles and of being asleep while people do things to my body. I’m worried about how much pain I’ll be in after.