Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 62430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
She had been upset to get his phone call. I could see that she knew enough not to get drawn into his drama on purpose, but would her brother leave it at that? Would he accept no for an answer and leave her in peace? Or was he so desperate that he would try to seek her out? That’s what made me worried.
In my drug-chasing days, I wouldn’t have let anything stand in the way of me and my next high, including friends and family. I wouldn’t put it past George to show up on Gina’s doorstep. My only comfort was that I was pretty sure he had no idea she was in Singer’s Ridge. Shit, her own father didn’t even know she was just a few blocks away.
I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her. She woke up anyway, batting sleep from her beautiful eyes.
“Good morning.” I kissed her. “I have to go to work.”
She sighed unhappily, rolling over onto her side.
“Sleep as long as you like,” I said, slipping into my work pants and buttoning them up.
“How will I lock the door?”
“If you push the button in on the knob, it’ll lock,” I said. “But I’d rather you stayed here.”
“There’s nothing to do here,” she yawned. “I need coffee.”
“There’s a pot in the kitchen,” I answered, finding a clean shirt in the dresser.
She narrowed her eyes. “Why do you want me to stay here?”
I didn’t want to tell her, didn’t want to put voice to the doubts that were nagging at me. But without an explanation, I would sound like a psycho, so I gave up. Of course she had to leave the apartment. We weren’t married, and she was probably safe anyway.
“I was just worried about your brother,” I admitted, pulling my shirt on.
She smiled. “Don’t worry. I can handle him.”
“Okay,” I said, though her statement did nothing to calm my fears. I dove in for a final kiss. “I owe you dinner.”
“Sounds good.” She pulled the covers up and closed her eyes again.
I let myself out onto the landing, fighting hard to walk away. There was a delicate line I was trying to walk between friends and lovers, between caring about her and smothering her. I didn’t know her brother from Adam; maybe I was wrong about him, and I was getting all worked up over nothing. My instincts told me Gina was in trouble. I should have listened, but I let concerns about work convince me I was being overprotective. I hurried down to my truck and drove away, leaving my heart to fend for itself.
“Whatsamatter?” Derrick jeered as I stopped for water after loading a customer’s pickup truck.
I whirled on him, eager to put my fist through his face. I was so close to starting a fight, I could feel the disappointment in Old Man Matthews’s eyes. I couldn’t let Derrick goad me into violence. Even though he was asking for it, even though he was the one who was wrong, I controlled myself. I pushed past him, stalking back out into the yard to continue my work.
Mike stopped by to deliver something to the new proprietor. He came looking for me and found me piling wood into the bargain bin. I didn’t notice him at first, until he clapped me on the back. I tossed the last board in and turned, getting ready to school whoever had been stupid enough to cross me. Instead, I found my friend’s goofy smile beaming at me, and I relaxed.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” I asked.
“My dad found an old car title in his papers, asked me to deliver it to Mr. Matthews,” Mike said. His parents had owned the lumberyard before they retired.
“It wasn’t their car?” I wiped my hands off on my jeans.
“Nah, it belonged to the business.” Mike put a hand on my shoulder again. “Can you take a five?”
“Sure.”
We went into the house at the far end of the yard, the one Mike had grown up in. It had been converted into a set of offices, with the kitchen as the break room. A Coke machine now stood in the entryway. I plugged a couple of quarters in and handed Mike a drink before getting one of my own. We sat at the table, the same one that Mike’s parents had left behind when they downsized.
“I’ll never get used to this place being an office building,” Mike said.
“Remember when we pulled up your mom’s flowers?”
“Or when we made beet smoothies?”
“And your mom made us finish them,” I completed the memory.
Mike shook his head. “So many things have changed.”
“Can I talk to you about something?” I sobered, running a finger along the top of my can.
“What is it?” He could sense the gravity of the situation from the tone of my voice.