Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
The first spoonful hit my tongue, and I almost groaned, closing my eyes in ecstasy. Warm soup. I hadn’t had it in over a month. Not since the last soup kitchen I’d been to.
And this tasted a hell of a lot better than that.
I opened my eyes to get another spoonful and caught the big guy staring at me. There was an odd gleam in his eyes. He looked kind of choked up.
“Jesus, kid, you really were starving.”
His voice sounded a little bit raw. Maybe he was just a good Samaritan. They didn’t usually look like six feet of muscle wrapped in leather and tattoos.
I shrugged and took another spoonful.
“Why aren’t you shoving food in your mouth? I would be.”
“Soup is good. If you go too long, regular food will make you sick.” I looked at him again. “Like, everywhere.”
He stared at me like I was breaking his heart. He lifted his hand for the waitress.
“We’ll take another bowl of soup.” He looked at me. “Chicken noodle?”
I nodded eagerly. In that moment, I could have kissed him. I doubted anyone wanted to get too close to me with the way I smelled, but I’d learned the hard way that it took all kinds.
I took another spoonful and sipped it gratefully.
“What’s your name?”
“Parker.”
“Okay, Parker. I’m Shane. Take your time. This place is open all night.”
Chapter Three
Shane
“It’s not much.”
The kid looked around the living room. I watched him. The intelligence was obvious in those crazy blue eyes of his.
“It’s cool.”
I felt a sudden swell of pride at his pronouncement. Why should I give a shit what some street rat thought? But I did.
I switched on some lights and took a quick look around to see if there was anything lying around that shouldn’t be. Guns. Knives. Old family photos with me looking like a junior stockbroker.
The kid is right, I thought to myself. This place is cool.
An old 1950s hunting cabin in the middle of nowhere, the place was bare bones. I hadn’t changed a thing when I moved in. It had an enormous old plaid couch and matching chairs centered around a funky looking old fireplace.
It wasn’t like I had put a lot into the place. I’d basically just not fucked with it. It was my very own time capsule from seventy years ago.
The best part was, nobody fucking knew I lived here.
“So, is there anybody we should call? Parents?”
He gave me a look of pure terror and my gut clenched. What the hell had the kid run away from? I wanted to kill somebody, just from the power of that look.
“That bad, huh?”
He looked at the ground and nodded. His whole posture was so dejected, I almost hugged him. And I never hugged anyone. I decided then and there that I was going to put a world of hurt on whoever had made the kid look like that.
“Okay. No calls.”
The kid gave me a small smile, and I swear the whole damn room lit up. Just a tiny smile, but it was so pure and sweet. It went straight to my gut.
Get a grip, Shane. You’re not his daddy.
But fuck if I didn’t feel protective of the kid. Not just a little bit either. I was well aware I would probably wake up with my wallet cleaned out and no sign of the kid. But I was hoping he’d stick around so I could help him. At least get some meat on his bones.
Hell, I was pretty much hoping the kid would move in with me so I could keep an eye on him.
Where the fuck is that coming from? You aren’t the daddy type, you idiot.
“How long you been on the street?”
“A while.”
He shrugged again, the gesture oddly elegant. He looked like a dancer standing there. I cleared my throat.
“The shower is in there. I’ll see if I can find some clean stuff for you to wear.”
I looked him over.
“There’s laundry in the back, but I’m thinking we should throw that stuff out.”
The kid shook his head.
“No. If it’s okay, I want to keep it.” He was staring at his feet again, his hand protectively tugging at his button-down shirt. “I know how to do laundry.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll get you towels and a garbage bag to bring to the mudroom. But if I were you, I’d wash it twice.”
I knocked on the door softly. The water had shut off ten minutes ago. Still no signs of life from the bathroom. Either he was just standing there or the kid moved like a cat.
“You still alive in there?”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
I heard movement and the door opened. I stepped back to give the kid room. He looked different clean. Wholesome almost, but way too thin. He had the same ratty cap on. I reached for it and he ducked.
“I’ll get you a clean cap.”