Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
My eyes catch movement, and Felicity has the horse walking. Then she kicks again, and it takes off faster and I’m equal parts scared and exhilarated.
“Fuck,” I mutter as I release Emory. “She’s running on the horse.”
Emory laughs as she watches her daughter. “That’s called a trot. And see the way she’s moving up and down… that’s called posting.”
“Damn,” I drawl in admiration. “She’s really good.”
“For seven years old, yes,” Emory says with pride. “I really need to get her back into lessons.”
We watch as she trots by, but she doesn’t look at us. She’s concentrating and Emory calls out softly, “You’re doing great, honey.”
When she’s out of earshot, Emory nudges me with her shoulder. “I do want your advice on something. Shane is getting tired of having to come to my house for supervised visits. He wants to be able to take her to dinner, and there’s a daddy/daughter dance at her school coming up that he wants to take her to. Do you think I should give him that leeway?”
“Do you think he’s solid in his sobriety?” I ask as we both watch Felicity while we talk.
“Based on past experience… yes. He’s solid right now. But I also know that never lasted.”
“Had he ever been high around her where he was driving?”
Emory sighs. “Not that I know of. His drug usage was always done away from us for the most part until I’d somehow catch a slipup. He swears he’s never done drugs around Felicity, but who knows. I don’t even want to think about the possibility he had her in the car while stoned.”
I ponder this and I’m not sure there’s a good answer. “You could let him take her but insist on an Uber.”
Emory winces. “I can, but Felicity would want to know why. I’m trying to make this normal for her.”
I angle my body her way and she gives me her attention. “You know the signs… if he’s on drugs, right?”
She nods firmly. “Know them well.”
I glance back at Felicity, then to Emory. “I don’t know if this is the right thing, but maybe you should let him take her. And you can judge his stability when he shows up.”
Emory tips her head slightly left, then right, pondering my suggestion. “That could probably work.”
“When is the dance?” I ask.
“Day after tomorrow.”
“We could stalk them,” I suggest with an evil laugh. I don’t have a game that night, and while the better idea would be to just hang with Emory at her house while Shane took Felicity to the dance, I’m up for doing anything to make her feel better about this.
Emory laughs and turns away from me. “I’ll think about that offer too.”
The subject of Shane is dropped. We watch Felicity in the ring and she rides for about half an hour before Nora draws her in. She lets Felicity get off all on her own, the little girl swinging one leg over then sliding down to drop to the ground.
She has Felicity take the reins just under the horse’s chin and start walking our way, side by side.
When they reach the gate, Nora says, “I’m going to have Felicity help me put Charlie back in his stall and feed him. We’ll be back in a bit.”
I think that’s code for “this is my chance to talk to her about Shane if she wants to” and Emory gives her an appreciative smile.
CHAPTER 21
Jett
I should feel ridiculous. Just this side of two months ago, I was a single guy, loving the single life with the singular intention of staying single forever.
Single, single, single.
Now I’ve driven twenty-five minutes out of my way to the arena just to see Emory for no reason at all other than I want to see her. I know I’m going to be catching her just before she leaves for work, which is ironic since we both work at the arena and I could have far more easily popped in to see her there, but then the gesture wouldn’t have been as dramatic.
No, going to her house early in the morning to bring Emory and her crew breakfast is something that feels good to me.
It symbolizes the death of the single guy who hated responsibility and commitment.
Then again, this doesn’t feel burdensome.
Commitment actually feels easier than anything I’ve felt before.
I’ve got a box of croissants in one hand and a bag of chocolate donuts—which I learned at some point over the past few weeks are Felicity’s favorite but don’t remember how I learned—and I make my way up the porch steps.
It’s just past seven and I also know from my many chats with Emory that she’s been up since six, first having her coffee, then a shower. After, she’ll get Felicity up and dressed. They’re at the breakfast table usually by seven-fifteen am so she can hit the bus when it pulls up in front of the house at seven-thirty am. I also know that while they live close enough to Felicity’s school, which is five blocks down on the same street, Emory won’t let her walk there by herself. She feels seven is just too young and while I’ve never had the opportunity to consider something like that before, I think I agree with her.