Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“Unca Trace, I’m awake now!” Chip hollered.
He was so fucking cute. It helped that he took after me. We shared the same dark hair and green eyes. I’d been adorable as a kid—and these days, quite a few men had assured me I was hot as fuck.
“I can see that, little man.” I swooped him up and blew a raspberry on his cheek. “Did ya have a nice nap in my office?”
“Yeah.” His grin was as sleepy as it was goofy. “I don’t want a babysitter. I have you!”
Yeah, well. According to Sarah, this situation wasn’t optimal. Their move from Boston was still weighing on her bank account some six months later, including the minor renovations at our folks’ old house. But it was important to her to have everything settled in their new home; Chip needed stability and shit like that. So while she saved up and took extra shifts at the hospital, I had him here a few nights a week.
I didn’t mind one bit. If he was going to take over one day, he needed to develop a love and protectiveness for the Clover.
Back in the kitchen, Petey had my dinner ready, so Chip had woken up at a good time for me to take my break. With Chip on my hip, another chip on my shoulder, I grabbed my plate, a bottle of water, some cheesy bread for the kid, and then aimed for the office.
It was on my list to declutter it someday. The cabinets and shelves were filled with files, receipts, and bank papers dating back to before I was born.
Before Chip, Bella had spent countless naps on that couch in the corner. It had everything he needed. An old iPad for watching cartoons, pillows, blankets, and a baby monitor we used as a walkie-talkie. Not that I could hear him over the din at the bar, but Petey kept the other one in the kitchen.
We’d developed a good system.
Honestly, I didn’t see the need for a babysitter either, but then, I wasn’t a fussing mother. She claimed she couldn’t turn her back on Chip for a second. I begged to differ. He was a bright little dude, and he knew the rules.
Chip settled in on the couch again, happy to devour more cheesy bread, and worked an iPad better than I did.
Sarah loved telling me I was born in the wrong era by calling me a boomer.
“Unca Trace?”
“Yeah, buddy?” I sat down at my desk and cut into my steak.
“Mister Petey is always here,” he said.
I nodded and chewed on a mouthful of steak and salad. “Close to it, just like me.”
Except, I didn’t have a wife who traveled for work, or kids who were off to college halfway across the country.
I reckoned it was a loneliness thing. He and I usually took the same double shifts. We were closed on Mondays, and he was off on Tuesdays. Ma’s rule. Petey’s gotta rest, baby! He needs two days away from here. She’d been everyone’s mother. Why she kept telling me was a mystery, though. He decided his own schedule, and he had Sandy too. While Petey was self-taught, Sandy was an actual chef.
I both missed Ma’s constant fussing and was relieved not to have her lurking in every corner.
Fucking Florida. What was so great about it? I drove down to visit once a year, and it was all I could handle. But no wonder old people moved there; joints fucking melted in that heat. And goddamn insects the size of your hand all over.
“Will I be here tomorrow too?” Chip asked.
I shook my head and uncapped my water. “Not on Thursdays and Sundays. Your mom’s afraid of homeless people.”
“What?” He scrunched his nose.
I grinned faintly. “I’m kiddin’. She’s just protective of you, and Thursdays and Sundays can get a little rough.” Very rarely, but whatever. It was Sarah’s choice. Her experience with the homeless as an ER nurse looked a lot different from mine. At most, our guys got a little territorial when we were running low on bread. That was about it. Otherwise…fuck, especially in the winter…? People were exhausted and cold.
“Mommy says we gotta go to church on Sunday,” Chip grumbled.
I chuckled. “Have fun with that.”
“Can you come?” he asked, hopeful.
“Nah, ’fraid not. God owes me money.”
He gasped. “How much?”
Before I could answer, I heard a knock on the door.
“Come in,” I said.
It was Julie again. “Sorry to bother you, but we have a situation with the garbage. Tonya and I can’t get the door to the alley to open.”
“No problem. I’ll fix it after I’m done,” I replied. The door was probably frozen shut or blocked by snow.
“Thanks, boss.”
I harrumphed loudly enough for her to hear it, and she laughed and walked away.
She knew I hated being called boss. Everyone knew.