Total pages in book: 196
Estimated words: 186555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 933(@200wpm)___ 746(@250wpm)___ 622(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 933(@200wpm)___ 746(@250wpm)___ 622(@300wpm)
With both his cell phone and mine in my pockets, I carried the single can of chicken noodle soup I’d been carrying around for weeks down the stairs and crossed the gravel leading toward the main house, eyeing the entry to the property to make sure the SUV didn’t suddenly turn back. I wasn’t even embarrassed by how fast I hustled up to the deck and knocked on the door, twice, hopeful.
I heard a “One sec!” from inside, and maybe three later, the door opened and the man I’d met at the hospital was standing there with a slight smile on his face that grew wider after a moment. “Hi,” the good-looking man said. He wasn’t as tall as Mr. Rhodes…. Was he a Mr. Rhodes too? He didn’t look at all like him, not even a little bit. Their features and colorings were totally different. So were their builds. If anything, Amos looked like a blended-up version of both of them.
Maybe he was related to his mom?
“Hi,” I told him, suddenly feeling shy. “We met at the emergency room, remember? Is Amos okay?” I held up my offering a little. “It isn’t homemade, but I brought him a can of soup.”
“Want to ask him yourself?” He smiled so wide, I couldn’t help but give him one right back.
Yeah, he and Mr. Rhodes were definitely not related.
I wondered again if I’d find out what the situation with Amos’s mom was like. Maybe she was in the military, deployed. Or maybe they were divorced and lived far away? Hadn’t Mr. Rhodes said another man’s name when he’d brought up the boy’s mom? I had so many questions and way too much time to think about business that wasn’t mine.
“Can I?” I asked, hesitating, knowing I should damn well just go back to the garage apartment before I got in trouble. It wasn’t like Amos’s dad had been all that happy to see me yesterday.
Or the last time we’d seen each other.
Much less the first time.
Or never. He was never happy to see me.
Johnny stepped back with a nod. His eyes seemed to scan the area behind me, and a crease formed between his eyebrows like he was confused. But whatever he was thinking over must have not been that important because he seemed to shrug it off before gesturing me forward. “Come in. He’s in his room.”
“Thanks.” I smiled and followed after him once he closed the door.
The house was the epitome of rustic and cute. Light-colored floors led the path through the foyer, past a cracked door that a quick glance in told me was a half bath, and straight ahead, a cathedral ceiling opened over an area that consisted of a living room and a kitchen on the right. In the living area was a single gray love seat and two scarred leather recliners. A wood-burning stove was set up in the corner. There was a milk crate working as a side table with a lamp on it. The kitchen was small with green-tiled counters and cupboards the same shade as the log cabin walls with black appliances. There was a plastic coffee container next to a coffee maker, an old jar with sugar, and more things around the counters.
The place was really, really clean and organized. Or maybe every man I’d ever known and lived with was just messy, because for two males living here, it was pretty spectacular. It suddenly made me feel like a slob for having clothes scattered all over the garage apartment, hanging off doors and chairs.
It was cozy and homey and nice.
I really liked it.
I guess in a way it reminded me of people and things that had brought me comfort. And love. Because the two were basically the same, or at least they should be.
“Aurora, right?” the Johnny guy asked, making me look over at him.
“Yeah,” I confirmed. “Ora if you want.”
He flashed me a white smile that was... it was something. “Thanks for calling about Am,” he said as he pointed through the living area and toward another short hall. There were three doors. Through one, I could hear a washing machine going. On the other side was another cracked doorway that was too dark.
“Thank you for letting me in. I was worried about him. I waited around at the hospital as long as I could, but I didn’t see you or Mr. Rhodes again after you went down there to get him, and I went home.” I’d been there until nine.
We stopped outside another cracked door. “He’s awake. I was just in here.”
Johnny knocked, and a raspy “What?” came through the door.
I tried not to snort at the warm greeting as his uncle rolled his eyes and pushed the door open.
I peeked my head inside and found Amos on the bed in boxers and a deep green T-shirt that said “Ghost Orchid” on the front of it. He glanced up from the game console he was holding in his hands and yelped before throwing his hands over his crotch, his face going red.