Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“Let’s get you in,” Justin tells Dylan, who grabs his hand and gets into the SUV. He buckles him up like an expert. I stand here, not sure what to do or where to go when he shuts the door and looks at me. His brown eyes are a bit darker than they were this morning, and I avoid them when he starts to really look at me. The phone beeps in his pocket, and he takes it out and types something back and then looks at me. “Do you want to give me your address so I can plug it in?”
“Um, yeah,” I say, giving him the address, and he types it in.
“That’s almost an hour from here,” he says, and his tone is tight. I suddenly just want to grab Dylan from the back seat and go about my way. I’ve had the worst day so far. My car finally died, and no amount of praying and cursing would bring it back to life. One of the workers at the office looked at it, and he just shook his head. I had to borrow Amy’s Uber account to get here. She’s the closest thing I have to a best friend, but she has her own issues. I know that money is tight for her, too, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“I understand if you can’t take us,” I say, trying to keep my hands from shaking by crossing them together.
“How long would it have taken you to get home on the bus?” he asks, and I don’t know where he is going with these questions.
“I’m not sure. Probably longer than an hour,” I answer him. I don’t even dare tell him that I would have to take two buses. Something that we will have to do tomorrow also. We are going to have to be out of the house by six to make it here by eight, and I’ve already arranged a lift with another co-worker who will pick me up at the arena on her way to work.
“He’s had a long day,” he says. “He was on the ice for over three hours.” I look at him, expecting him to say more except he doesn’t. He gets into the driver’s seat, and I stand here, wondering what he was actually getting at. I walk around the passenger side and get into the front seat. The car has a new car smell, a smell I recognize from when my parents got a new car right before I left home.
Reaching behind me for the seat belt, I fasten it while he looks in the back to make sure that Dylan is okay and then starts driving. I have to force myself to look out the window, or I’m going to gawk at him the entire ride.
“Thank you,” I finally have the courage to say. I look at him, and it’s the wrong thing to do or maybe it’s the right thing to do, who knows. One of his hands holds the steering wheel while the other arm rests on the door. “You really didn’t have to go out of your way like this.”
“I have sisters,” he says and then looks at the road. “I would hope that if any of them were stuck, someone would help them.” I nod. “Why do you think I have a booster seat?”
“I have no idea. I assumed you had a child,” I say, ignoring the pit in my stomach.
“No, my sister Allison came to visit a couple of months ago, and I needed two, so then I keep one in my other car and one in here just in case,” he says.
“Do you just have one sister?” I ask him. I don’t know why it even matters.
“No.” He laughs. “I have four siblings.” My mouth flies open. “Yeah, and I’m the baby.”
“Oh my gosh.” I laugh. “So you must be the spoiled one.”
He shrugs and smirks, and it just makes him so much better looking than before. “I say no, but everyone else says yes.”
“Are you the only boy?” I am suddenly so curious about his family.
“No.” He shakes his head. “Matthew, who is twenty years older than me, is the firstborn.”
“Wow, he could be your dad,” I point out. When he throws his head back and laughs, my thoughts immediately wonder what it would be like to lean over and kiss his neck, right below his ear. I shake my head, making the image go away. Don’t go there.
“He sometimes forgets he is my brother and not my dad,” he says. The car stops, and I look forward at the three lanes of traffic. Justin looks down at his phone. “It looks like there is an accident.”
“I’m sorry if this puts a damper on your night,” I say.
“I told you I had nothing planned, so it’s all good.” He looks ahead and then looks at me again. “Do you want to stop somewhere to eat? By the time you get home, it’ll be really late to start dinner.” I swallow, and it feels like my tongue just swelled in my mouth.