Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
There were more than a dozen faded cars to choose from. I pointed at him, then me. The sharp little boy quickly picked up on what I was saying. “Sure, I’ll pick for you.” He told me things about each car that he picked for me, then did the same for the cars he kept for himself. I almost missed it when he said, “You can’t talk, huh?”
I shook my head.
“Is that ‘cause you got hurt?” he asked, pointing to my bandaged throat.
I nodded.
“That’s okay, I can make the sounds for you,” he said as he motioned toward the cars. “Let’s race, ‘kay?”
I stifled a smile and nodded. As we began moving the cars around an imaginary racetrack, Newt made all sorts of sputtering sounds. I’d lost track of how many times we went around the “track” when Newt suddenly threw his hands in the air and his eyes went wide. “You won!” he exclaimed. “You won!”
I laughed, even though it made my throat hurt. I was so preoccupied that it wasn’t until arms wrapped around my shoulders from behind that I realized we weren’t alone anymore.
“Morning,” Nolan said softly as he kissed my cheek.
I turned to look at him and felt that familiar sensation deep in my belly. God, how I loved this man. I kissed him chastely on the mouth.
“Morning, Newt.”
“Good morning. Wanna play?”
Nolan laughed. “Maybe in a minute. Where’s your brother?”
“Fixin’ the car. We gotta hit the road,” Newt said absently.
“Something’s wrong with your car?” Nolan asked.
Newt nodded. “Isaac says it’s a piece of sh-junk.”
I smiled at Newt’s combining of the swear word Isaac had clearly caught himself saying before correcting himself with the more kid-friendly term.
“Son of a biscuit-eater!” came a shout from behind us just as the kitchen door opened and a burst of cold wind and snow flew into the house before Isaac jammed the door shut. I noticed he wasn’t wearing a coat again. It made me wonder if he had one. I was reminded of when Nolan had first started working at the center.
“Problem?” Nolan asked, smiling at Isaac’s quasi-swear word.
Isaac seemed surprised to see us both. “Um, sorry. Yeah, my car won’t start.”
I climbed to my feet and motioned to myself, then outside. “Thanks,” Isaac said. I pulled on my coat and boots, but when he made a move to follow me, I motioned for him to stay put. Bitter cold greeted me as I stepped outside. I hurried to the sedan and made quick work of examining the engine. It took less than a minute to diagnose the problem. What I was seeing didn’t make sense, so I hurried into the house to ask Isaac about it. It was just Nolan in the kitchen when I got inside.
“Isaac took Newt upstairs to get him changed,” Nolan said before I even asked. “Hey,” he said. “What is this?” he asked as he held out his hand. I furrowed my brow and took out my phone.
Sparkplugs.
“Sparkplugs?” Nolan asked, clearly confused.
Yeah. They’re probably from Isaac’s car since he’s missing two. Where did you find them?
“Um, that’s the thing. They were in the fridge. In the butter dish,” Nolan responded as he motioned to the now-empty butter dish.
I shook my head and then typed one word.
Maddox.
“Maddox? You think he put them there?”
I know he did. It was something we used to do when we were teenagers. When our parents were too drunk to drive, we’d remove the sparkplugs from their cars and hide them in the butter dish, since we figured they’d never look there. We’d put them back in the cars as soon as they sobered up. I just don’t understand why he removed them from Isaac’s car.
Even as I typed the words, my thoughts drifted to Maddox. We’d always had to work so hard to keep our parents from endangering themselves and others when they’d been intoxicated, that we’d sworn to each other that we’d never drink and drive. As much as I hated to admit it, his anger made sense. I couldn’t say I wouldn’t have been just as enraged if the situation had been reversed. It would have felt like a personal betrayal of epic proportions if I’d learned he’d ever driven drunk. And if he’d killed a loved one while doing it…
“He mentioned something last night about how we shouldn’t let Isaac leave – that he was in trouble.”
Do you think that’s true? I asked.
Nolan nodded. “He’s definitely running from something.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that. Before I could dwell on it too much, Nolan said, “Maddox asked me to give you a message.”
I nodded as I remembered Nolan saying that in his text.
“He said…he said he has your back.”
I stiffened at that.
“It means something, doesn’t it?” Nolan asked.
I nodded, then typed, Growing up with our parents was tough. The pressure sometimes got to be too much and I’d have these moments where I’d just want to give up. Not play ball anymore, not go back to school…it got so bad at times that I talked about running away. I just needed a break from it all, you know?