Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“Boys.” Ronan snorted as the other kid climbed in first. “Roland and I are fifteen. Not babies.”
“We’ll have licenses soon,” Roland added. Lord, help us. These two behind the wheel were going to be trouble. “And we were gonna try to make it to Portland and back before Mom’s shift ended, but no one picked us up.”
“Plenty of bad stuff can happen at any age when you try to hitch.” I turned back toward them. “Either of you have a phone? I get not wanting to alarm your mom, but at the very least, you should text someone that you have a ride and my license plate number.”
“No phone.” Ronan sighed like this was a fate worse than death. “We’re supposed to be grounded. No electronics for two whole days.”
“Everything okay at home?” I asked as I put the car in gear. My finger hovered over the hands-free talk button on my steering wheel. Sam would know far better than me how to handle this situation. But the thought of calling him made my neck tense.
“Everything’s fine.” Ronan’s tone was rather flippant, but he didn’t sound like he was hiding anything. “We weren’t running away. Just nothing to do until school starts, and being grounded sucks.”
“Nothing?” I asked. I drove slower with the kids in the car. Sam and I would never let our kids… Whoa. Wait. Backup, brain. I wasn’t supposed to be thinking sentimental thoughts about the future with Sam, not when we’d parted so badly. And more alarmingly, my head had been all too willing to fill the second-floor rooms of the house with imaginary, well-behaved tweens and teens. The vision felt so real my ears rang with boisterous voices. I shook my head, returning to the matter at hand. “Aren’t there summer activities to do with other Safe Harbor kids? Sports? Community center camps? Pool?”
“I’m allergic to team sports.” Ronan made a rude noise. “And no money for that either.”
“All the day camps are for little kids,” Roland added. “And the pool is packed with more little kids.”
“Hate swimming.” Ronan gave another disgusted snort. Safe Harbor needed more options for tweens and teens like these guys. I could practically see Sam nodding along. This is where I want to make a difference. Sure, there were likely bored kids all across the country, but I couldn’t deny the need in Safe Harbor for services like what Sam was trying to do. And more. The charity could expand, perhaps partner with local schools and organizations to bring summer activities…
Slow down, cowboy. I shook my head again. I wouldn’t be here next summer, and Sam was overworked as it was. Forget the matter of funding, he was already stretched thin. He’d need help to expand beyond barista training.
And help to raise those kids he wanted. Gah. My gut was twisted into a complex Celtic knot, all my feelings for Sam competing with my fears and the past I couldn’t seem to escape.
“What were you going to do in Portland?” I asked to distract myself from those thoughts.
“Dunno.” Ronan’s flip tone continued. “Explore. Anything’s better than home alone grounded just because we forgot chores.”
“Again.” Roland laughed self-consciously. “And we’re gonna be grounded longer if Mom finds out we tried to hitch a ride.”
“Probably not a bad idea.” I gestured at my phone resting on the console. “You sure you don’t want to text or call your mom? Tell her you’re safe.”
“She works a lot of hours.” Worry made Roland sound younger. “We shouldn’t bug her.”
“It’s a mom’s job to worry.” As I said the words, I heard a distant voice in my ears, following Holden and me up the stairs as we hauled that old couch up to the attic. She was a good mom. A surety I hadn’t felt in decades settled over me, followed rapidly by a wave of profound sadness. “Sounds like you have a pretty good one. Maybe think about giving her fewer reasons to worry?”
“Maybe.” Ronan was more defiant than agreeable, but Roland made a thoughtful noise.
“We should have done the chores. And made dinner.”
“Yup.” My throat dried to a salty crisp that made words a challenge. “You only get one mom. Take care of her.”
“It’s not that late.” Ronan sighed, a tiredness there he hadn’t shown before. “We could still clean. Tell her we’re sorry.”
“And that you won’t do this again. I’m serious about the dangers. Kids end up dead, and you might not care enough about that, but trust me that your mom wouldn’t ever get over it if you got hurt.”
“We get it.” Ronan was back to being sullen, but maybe he’d heard me. Maybe. I took the turn onto our street slowly, and Ronan pointed. “That’s our house, the red one.”
“Thanks for the ride, mister.” Roland tapped the back of my seat.