Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“Let’s say there is.”
“There won’t be,” he says firmly, and I roll my eyes.
“You can’t know that.”
“The weather is clear, Em.”
“Yeah, but things happen, Miles. It’s always good to have a plan.”
“Okay, then there are solar panels on the roof and backup batteries in the basement. Even if there is a power outage in this area, there won’t be one in this building.”
“Oh,” I mutter.
“Just don’t let your cell phone die.” He grins, and I laugh, my smile falling away as I watch him pull out his wallet—a real wallet, which is weird, because I don’t think I’ve seen a guy carry an actual wallet in ages. Most guys I know have those cell phone wallets with one card and their ID inside.
“Miles,” I warn when he takes out a stack of twenty-dollar bills and places them on the counter.
“Win’s gonna want shit when you’re at the zoo, and I want you to have cash for dinner if you two are out when that rolls around.”
“Are you going to be gone that long?”
“Probably.” His gaze fills with worry. “Is that okay? I can try to be back before then if—”
“No,” I cut him off and hold up my hand. “It’s honestly not a big deal. I just don’t know how long your workday is.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I have no plans, and tomorrow, I was just going to catch up on laundry. I can be here as long as you need.”
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, glancing toward the living room. “It’s just this case I got yesterday, and—”
“You don’t have to explain. Winter will be okay, and I’ll be here.” I know what he does, or I at least get the gist of his job. And I can imagine it’s difficult wanting to be around for your kid but knowing there is someone on the streets who could harm someone else if they’re not caught in time. The amount of pressure he must feel as a detective and basically a single dad isn’t something any normal person could ever really understand. I know I don’t.
“Thanks, Em.”
“Stop thanking me.”
“Stop acting like you’re not saving my ass,” he counters, glancing past me, and I look back at Winter when he does and find she is now sitting on the floor in front of the couch, bent over a low-profile black coffee table and coloring. “I should take off.”
“Yeah.” I focus back on him and can tell with one glance that he doesn’t look happy about having to leave.
“I’ll call and check in.”
“Sure.” I give him a reassuring smile. “Good luck today.”
“Thanks, Em.” He gives my arm a squeeze, then moves around me. I turn and watch him walk to the living room and squat next to Winter. I can’t hear what he says, but he must say something to annoy her, because she rolls her eyes before getting up and wrapping her arms around his neck to hug him. When he lets her go, she goes back to coloring, and his eyes come to me for a brief moment. Then, like smoke, he’s gone, and the door is closing behind him.
Taking a sip of coffee, I walk into the living room and have a seat on the edge of the couch to watch Winter work on a picture of a castle. She’s colored it pink, with a gray horse standing regally in front of it.
“Do you think Daddy will be okay?”
The quiet question surprises me, but my heart hurts when she looks back at me with worry in her pretty brown eyes that are almost the same color as mine.
“Of course I do.” I smooth her dark hair out of her face.
“He catches bad guys and—” She nibbles on her bottom lip. “—sometimes I worry that he won’t come home.”
“I can promise your dad will always do everything in his power to come home to you, Winter. You don’t ever have to worry about that,” I say gently.
She nods before turning back to her coloring book, and I let out a long breath.
CHAPTER 9
miles
Opening the door to my place, I find the TV still on with the volume low, and the light above the stove in the kitchen the only other source of light. Shrugging off my coat, I hang it on the hook near the door, then walk down the single step into the sunken living room.
Rounding the back of the couch, I stop to stare at Emma, who’s asleep with Winter’s fuzzy blankets pulled up to her shoulder, her head resting on one of the throw pillows. Her long hair is out of the ponytail she had it in this morning and fanned out behind her. I must have gotten a dozen pictures from her today while she and Winter were out and about. A few were of the two of them together and obviously taken by someone else as they smiled, hugging each other, or made silly faces at the camera. The others were of Winter alone, doing things like petting a kangaroo, riding the carousal, and eating cotton candy.