Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
There was no option but for me to go in. My boss, Jenny, was already short-staffed, and I couldn’t tell her no. She’s always helpful and flexible with me. More than she needs to be. I also don’t have the luxury to turn down money. Not with having two brothers to feed and clothe at home.
Since I didn’t know I was going to be home late, I hadn’t prepared anything for the boys' dinner. Usually I’m more organized, especially when it comes to them. They’ve experienced enough chaos in their lives. I try not to beat myself up too much about it. It’s not like they don’t have snacks and such to pick on. But I try to make sure they have a proper dinner every night. Mrs. Walkey, who lives a bit down the road, swings by to check on them from time to time, but Tuesday nights she has her church choir practice.
Mom has been gone for a few days, and I’m betting it will be a few more before she pops up again. I tried to reach her, but her phone was off. I pay that damn bill so I can try to get ahold of her, but she can’t even charge the thing. I don’t know why I ever hold out hope that she might come through for me once in a while. That I could actually depend on her for something. I should know better.
Somehow, though, I hadn’t been too worried. Deep down, I knew Tyson would swing by and check in. It dawns on me that he’s actually the one person I can count on to always be around. The boys can be pretty good about minding themselves when they’re home alone, which is more often than I'd like them to be for their ages, but sometimes they can get a bit crazy.
I no sooner have my old Jeep in park and Tyson is opening the driver’s side door for me. “I’ve been missing you.” I snort a laugh. I think I’m so tired I’ve got the giggles now. At the sound of my laughter, Tyson’s whole face lights up.
“They good when you check in on them?” I ask. I actually take his hand and let him help me out. When my feet hit the ground, he doesn’t release his hold but instead tangles our fingers together.
“They’re good. Playing video games.”
“Thank you. I know you got them that gaming system.” My brothers are a weak spot for me, and Tyson knows it. It’s the one place I can never bring myself to get upset with him.
“Sometimes I need someone to play with me online.” He shrugs it off like it’s no big deal.
“Well, thanks. I should go feed them.” I try to free my hand, but it’s pointless. Tyson only holds it tighter and starts to walk me toward the door.
“Rory! The news said we might get snow! Maybe we won’t have school!” Dean shouts as he comes running out the front door.
“Since when do you watch the news?”
“Someone told me in the game.”
“No school?” Logan is out the door behind him.
“I don’t think we’re getting snow, guys,” I say, not wanting them to get their hopes up.
“I can see my breath.” Logan tilts his head back and starts making little puffs.
“A white Christmas would be cool, but fuck, it’s cold.”
“Seriously? Can you not curse?” I don’t need other people looking down on us any more than they already do.
“I don’t do it at school or nothing.”
“Respect your sister,” Tyson orders him. Dean purses his lips but nods. I squeeze Tyson’s hand.
“You guys hungry?”
“Tyson brought us—” Dean slaps Logan in the chest, cutting him off. “Sorry.” He gives Tyson an apologetic look.
“Don’t be, little man. Don’t lie to your sister to cover for me. I cover you. You guys don’t cover me.” Logan smiles happily that Tyson isn’t upset with him.
“All right, go inside and get ready for bed. It’s cold out here.” They both say their goodbyes to Tyson before they shuffle back into the house. I’m going to have to see about getting them heavier coats. That’s not going to be cheap, but it’s a necessity.
“You know I’ve got some older coats I don’t use. Think they’d want them?” I turn to face Tyson. Has his stalking gone so far he’s in my head, or can the man really read me that easily?
“I’d appreciate it. But only if it’s stuff you’re not using.”
“Promise.” He gives me another one of those big smiles, making him look as handsome as always.
“I should—” I trail off when an old beat-up truck comes speeding into the driveaway. Tyson pushes me behind him. I peek my head out as the truck slams on its breaks, almost crashing into the back of my Jeep.
“That bitch took my money!” a man shouts as he throws the door of his truck open hard. It bounces back and almost hits him, but he catches it. “Where is she? Shelly! Get your ass out here!”