Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73794 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73794 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“It will with that attitude.” My voice took on a clipped edge as I gestured toward the parking lot. “Let’s get a move on.”
“Fuck, Caleb, you sound just like Mom.” Scotty didn’t seem in any hurry to follow me to my truck, so I turned to give him a harsh glare.
“And you sound like a sailor.”
“Since when do you care if I curse?” Scotty wrinkled his nose like I’d forgotten to use deodorant. He had a point. I did sound overly parental, especially considering I was around salty-talking first responders all day.
“Since I signed the guardian papers with Mom.” I made an effort to keep my tone as measured as my steps toward the truck.
“No one asked you to.”
“Mom did.” After our father had died, our mom had a long journey through grief and widowhood, eventually going back to school and getting a business degree and a realty license. Her small business finally turned a profit right as Scotty’s school and behavior problems reached a crisis point. Together, we’d worked out this plan for Scotty’s fresh start, something he’d only reluctantly agreed to. “That matters.”
“To you.” He sounded more seven than seventeen.
“Get in the truck, Scotty.” I unlocked my truck and threw his bag into the back seat.
“Nice wheels.” He cast an admiring glance over the black truck I’d scrimped and saved for after my old beater car had finally died on one too many snowy hills in Mount Hope. “I see being a firefighter pays beyond the uniform helping you bag chicks. Or dicks.”
“I’m not bagging anyone right now.” I knew better than to take the bait, but my tone returned to clipped. “My only focus is on my work and getting you through school.”
“Ha.” Scotty snorted. “You? Trying not to smash?”
“Maybe I’ve reformed, and you can too.” I matched his sarcasm with snappiness. I’d never been particularly wild, but I had always had a reputation for being social. I was tired of people not taking me seriously simply because I liked to go out a lot.
“Oh my God, now you sound like a motivational speaker at school.” Scotty leaned his seat all the way back and pretended to fake snore as I pulled out of the parking lot.
“So this is Mount Hope.” I took the long way back to our rental. Scotty had left for camp from Portland and had only visited me in Mount Hope a handful of times.
However, he met my eagerness to show off with a scoff. “Tiny.”
“It’s not that bad. Peaceful. Pretty in winter.”
“Don’t try and sell me on the snow.” Scotty gave an exaggerated shudder before brightening. “Unless you’re paying for snowboarding lessons.”
I doubted my budget would stretch that far, even with Mom contributing to Scotty’s expenses, but I didn’t want to start another argument. Instead, I turned onto our street. My rental was at the far end of Prospect Place, past all the famous historic homes, in a light-pink cottage between two more stately Craftsman houses.
“This is our place.” I parked in the driveway, a bonus my former apartment hadn’t offered.
“Tiny like the town.” Scotty pursed his lips. He’d been little more than a baby when my dad had died, and he had zero clue about Mom’s herculean efforts to keep our spacious family home. His tone was gratingly entitled. “It looks like the two bigger houses had a baby house.”
“Finding a two-bedroom near the high school on a budget didn’t yield many options.” I sighed, already tired from the prospect of months of these tense conversations. “Besides, this place is cute.”
“It’s pink,” Scotty countered, but he collected his backpack without further objection. I’d managed to furnish the cottage with a mixture of stuff from my apartment, Mom’s garage, and a few estate sales. The two small bedrooms were on opposite ends of the house.
Scotty didn’t seem interested in lingering in the living area, so I led him back to his room. “This is your room.”
“Are those my posters?” He tilted his head.
“Yeah. I put some of your things up.” My mom had tearfully boxed up some of Scotty’s favorite possessions. “Mom and I thought it would help you feel more at home.”
“You need to chill.” Scotty flopped on the full-size bed I’d found, which was almost too short for him. “Stop trying so hard when we both know this whole situation bites.”
“It doesn’t have to.” I pushed past my frustration for one last stab at enthusiasm. “I’m excited to spend time together.”
“And I’m excited for a nap.” He gestured at the doorway until I got the message and left him alone.
Tired of trying to jolly a seventeen-year-old porcupine into a good mood, I decided to gift myself a pre-dinner run. The sun was still out but nowhere near as strong as earlier in the day, and a breeze rolled in from the mountains and river. I was nowhere near as athletic or fast as Scotty, but somewhere along the road to graduating from the fire academy, I’d come to find satisfaction in pounding the pavement.