Total pages in book: 198
Estimated words: 186242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 931(@200wpm)___ 745(@250wpm)___ 621(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 931(@200wpm)___ 745(@250wpm)___ 621(@300wpm)
I hugged her and Jackie, who I noticed was standing behind her, peeking over her shoulder with an anxious look on her face. “Hi, Jackie.”
“Hi, Ora.”
I stopped and cursed. “I forgot my bag. Let me go grab it real quick.”
“Dinner’s ready. Come eat and then get it.”
I nodded and followed them in, giving Mr. Nez a hug too. He was already at the kitchen table, gesturing toward the seat beside him. Clara was right; dinner was done—apparently they adhered to Taco Tuesday, and I was all about that. We ate, and Mr. Nez asked questions about the store, and then they told me how Christmas had gone the day before. They hadn’t left the house, but one of Clara’s brothers had come over, so they hadn’t been alone.
I was just finishing off my second taco, which if it had been any other day, it more than likely would have been my fourth, when a knock on the front door had Jackie getting up and disappearing down the hallway.
“Did you hear that she and Amos are going to do the talent show at school?” Mr. Nez asked.
I set the last bit of my taco down on the plate. “Am told me. They’re going to do great.”
“She won’t tell us what they’re singing or anything.”
I didn’t want to ruin the surprise and lifted a shoulder. “I’m sworn to secrecy, but we should all get there early.”
“I can’t believe Amos would agree to it,” Mr. Nez commented between bites. “He’s always struck me as such a shy young man.”
“He is, but he’s tough, and my friend has been giving him advice.” I hoped he forgave me.
“The one that Jackie hasn’t stopped talking about? Lady . . . what’s her name? Lady Yoko? Yuko?”
I laughed. “Yuki. Lady Yuki, and yeah, that’s—”
A shout came from the front door. “Aurora! It’s for you!”
For me?
Clara shrugged as I got up. Heading toward the front door, Jackie purposely avoided my eyes as she went around me, heading back into the kitchen.
I knew who it was. It wasn’t like there was a long list of people who would come looking for me.
But there wasn’t anyone on the deck when I got to the door. What there was were two people by my car. I’d gotten into the habit of never locking my car anymore unless I was at the store. The trunk was open, and I couldn’t see their heads, but I could see the bodies.
“What are you doing?” I hollered, going down the steps, my stomach twisting with all the bad reasons why they’d be digging around in there. And possibly a little bit in surprise as well.
It was Rhodes that moved first, hands going straight to his hips as he looked at me. All broad shoulders and full chest. Big and imposing, looking like more of a superhero than a normal man. He was still in his work uniform. His winter work jacket was open, his beanie was pulled down on his head, and he was scowling. “Getting your things,” he answered.
I stopped walking.
Amos moved around to stand beside his dad. He was in a baggy hoodie, and he crossed his arms over his chest in the exact same way the man beside him did. “You gotta come back.”
“Come back?” I echoed like I’d never heard those words before.
“Home,” they said at the same time.
That one word felt like a Superman punch to my very soul, and it must have been apparent to them too, because Rhodes’s expression went into his harsh one, his ultra-serious face. “Home.” He paused. “With us.”
With them.
That wide chest that I’d found comfort in time and time again rose with a breath, his shoulders lowering at the same time, and he nodded—to himself, to me, I didn’t know to who—watching me with those incredible gray eyes. “Where do you think you’re going?”
What? “Going? I’m here . . . ?”
It was like he didn’t hear my answer because his scowl went nowhere and the lines on his forehead deepened as he said slowly, sounding resolute, “You’re not leaving.”
They thought I was leaving?
My poor brain couldn’t understand because it repeated their words, because they didn’t make sense. None of it—none of this, even them being here—made any sense.
“You had your bag,” Amos tag-teamed into the conversation, glancing up at his dad for a second before focusing back on me. He seemed to be struggling with something because he took a deep breath and then said, “We . . . we thought you lied. We were just a little bit mad, Ora. We don’t want you to go.”
They really thought I was leaving them? Forever? I’d only grabbed my little duffel.
And it was then that I noticed what Rhodes had tucked under his arm. Something bright orange.
My jacket.
He had my jacket with him.
Suddenly my legs went weak, and the only thing my brain could process was that I needed to sit down, and I needed to sit down right then. That’s what I did. I plopped down on the ground and just looked at them, the snow instantly wetting my butt.