Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 91937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
I get into the truck and pull out, making sure I drive properly in his brand-new truck. My eyes are looking around to make sure Winston is not waiting for me. When I pull up to the back of the bakery, Ms. Maddie is getting there at the same time. I jump out of the truck. “Do I want to know?” she asks, looking at the truck.
“Winston showed up last night,” I start telling her the story, which I’ve said often enough, “and this time, it got physical.” Her eyes go big and then razor sharp. “Brady came in and forced me to stay at his house.” The razor-sharp look changes.
“Isn’t that something,” she ponders, grabbing the boxes from me quickly. “Get out of here.”
“I might have a new cake next week,” I tell her, and she nods as she closes the back door. I make my way back to the house, seeing there are lights on in the kitchen and I’m sure I would have turned them off before I left. Parking, I get out and walk up the steps, opening the door softly but stopping when I hear voices.
"How many do you want?" I hear Brady ask, and I walk slowly to the kitchen, stopping in my tracks.
Wyatt sits on the stool facing Brady’s back, who is at the stove. “Hey, Momma,” he greets with a smile. “Brady is making me pancakes.” Speechless—that is the only thing I am. Actually, after I hear what comes out of his mouth next, I know I’ll never have words again. “And after that, he is taking me fishing.”
CHAPTER 21
Brady
I stand at the stove with the spatula in one hand and my coffee cup in the other, looking at Harmony standing there with a pale face. Maybe, perhaps I should have spoken to her about making plans. “I’m sorry, what?” she asks, as I put down my coffee cup and walk over to grab her a mug.
“Wyatt,” I start to say, pouring her a cup of coffee and placing it on the counter right next to the orange juice Wyatt asked for, “said he’s never been fishing before.”
“Okay.” She doesn’t move from the spot she’s in, and I have to think about how to play this. I could go to her and grab her face in my hands and kiss her, but that will be after Wyatt gets used to me being in their lives.
“I thought you could sleep,” I explain, wondering if I’ll have to carry her over to the stool, “so I’ll take Wyatt out, and we can go fish a bit.”
“Um,” she says, but I turn to flip the pancakes over, “you don’t have to do that.”
“But, Mom,” Wyatt complains.
“I’m going to finish breakfast,” I tell her. “You are going to sit on that stool.” I point at where I left her coffee. “You are going to eat a couple of pancakes unless you want eggs.” I look over my shoulder and take her in for a second. My heart squeezes in my chest. “Then you are going to go take a long overdue nap.”
“But—”
“Do you want me to carry you to that stool?” I ask. She must sense I mean business, so she walks over to it, pulls it out, and sits next to Wyatt.
“Good morning.” She leans in and kisses his head. “Why are you up so early?”
He shrugs and doesn’t answer her. “I had to pee,” he states.
“He’s only been up for ten minutes,” I tell her, and her eyebrows go up.
“It’s a good thing I got back when I did, or else he’d be going to Disney next,” she jokes, grabbing her cup of coffee and making me laugh.
“That’s for next time.” I wink at her, and she just shakes her head as I plate one pancake on each plate and put them down in front of them. “Eat, and then we can go and swing by Charlie’s place to grab some fishing stuff.”
“Okay,” Wyatt agrees before grabbing the maple syrup and pouring so much on it’s a wonder he can even taste the pancake. He ends up eating four pancakes, and Harmony gets up to cut him some fruit. “But I’m full.”
“That will soak up all that sugar,” she tells him, “or else you’ll feel sick at the lake.” He looks at the fruit and then at me.
“Eat up, buddy,” I take her back, “then go wash up.”
“Fine,” he huffs, and then I look back at Harmony, who shares a smile with me. Wyatt finishes his fruit, pushing away from the counter, leaving behind drops of syrup.
“Do not touch anything until you get into the bathroom,” Harmony instructs him as he tries to get all the syrup off his face with his tongue. “You need a shower.”
“Okay,” he says, bouncing out of the room and heading upstairs, and the minute he does, I know what this house has always needed. Him. Him and his mother.