Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
He picked the large slice up and folded it, then placed the water and plate by his feet. “I’ll eat while we walk.”
“Seriously?” I asked, frustrated.
He nodded. “Yep.”
“Fine. Come on then.”
We walked in silence the small amount of time it took to find Harold. He was sitting on an upturned plastic crate with his harmonica, playing an upbeat tune, when he spotted me approaching. A smile lit up his face as he lowered the instrument from his mouth.
“Got me somethin’ good, do ya?” he asked when I reached him.
I held out the pizza to him, wishing I could do more for him than stopping by with food. “My homemade pizza,” I replied.
“That just might be my favorite,” he told me as he took the pizza from my outstretched hands, then raised his shaggy white eyebrows as he looked behind me. The way his mouth tightened into a firm line made it clear he wasn’t happy about Ringer following me.
“Harold, this is, uh, well, this is my friend’s…uh, friend. Ringer,” I explained.
“Friend’s friend, is it?” he asked, still studying Ringer closely. “Sweet girl like you ought not to have friends like that. Ain’t right. You got the world at your feet.”
I gave Harold’s arm a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “It’s Pepper’s brother’s friend. I assure you, he is just here to protect me.” I stopped then as his eyes narrowed.
“What you need protecting from?” Harold asked.
Why had I said that? Explaining my way out of this one was going to take time I didn’t really have. Not with Jeremy waiting on me in my apartment.
“It’s overkill,” I assured him. “I don’t think I need any protecting, but a guy I was dating turned out to be not such a good man. Anyway, all is well. I promise. You eat that pizza. And where is the blanket I brought you?”
His concerned frown didn’t ease. “It’s folded up real nice under my box here. I like to keep it clean until it’s time for bed.”
“Good. Well, Jeremy is back at the apartment, needing help with an art project. I have to head back, but I’ll make sure we have time to chat next time.”
He nodded. “And you let me know if’n these boys protecting you step out of line.” His eyes were locked on Ringer, making sure his threat was clear. It was sweet really.
Harold was sixty-three, but living on the streets the past fifteen years made him appear closer to eighty. He had arthritis something awful and refused to take any of the medications I had brought him, saying that taking pills was what had gotten him here.
“Enjoy your pizza,” I told him and wished he’d take money, but I already knew he wouldn’t. I’d tried too many times to offer it to him.
“Always do,” he assured me.
Turning, I glanced up at Ringer, who was grinning like an idiot. Nothing about this was funny. I shot him an annoyed glare before starting back to the apartment.
“You feed old homeless men and help kids with homework.” He chuckled behind me.
“Why is that amusing to you?” I asked, not giving him the satisfaction of a scowl.
“ ’Cause it just is.”
Rolling my eyes, I walked as fast as I could back to the apartment. It wasn’t like I was trying to feed all the homeless in Miami. I would if I could, but that would be an impossible task. Harold was special.
I’d met him the week I moved in. I had been walking home a little late after getting lost in a book I was reading at the burger place just a mile from my apartment. Some young guys were calling out to me from their car and following me slowly. I was right near ready to take off running and screaming. Promising God that I wouldn’t do this again if he just got me out of this mess.
Then, Harold came out of nowhere, waving a gun, and yelled at the boys that he’d shoot all their sorry asses if they didn’t go on. He scared me a touch, but then he’d explained the gun was a toy but a real good replica. He had walked me the rest of the way, and I’d found out that he’d been in the Army. Served in the Vietnam War, and due to some PTSD he’d gotten, he’d become an alcoholic and lost his wife, and his only son had been killed in a car accident two days after he turned sixteen.
His story was tragic, and it broke my heart that he was so alone in the world. So, yes, I fed Harold, and I checked on him. He deserved to be cared about too.
We made it back to the apartment, and I was barely inside when I heard Micah’s voice, followed by Jeremy’s laughter. I froze for a moment, then hurried to the kitchen.