Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
I pull out my phone to shoot off a quick text to Shadow, but I see her coming back to the table. She sits across from me, and the waitress follows after her with our breakfast.
Her demeanor is a drastic contrast to the girl who walked into the diner with me. She’s sullen, closed off, and completely unapproachable.
We eat in near silence. I try to get her to open up with questions about school, and what she feels like her future will look like. She gives one word answers on a few, and just doesn’t answer some at all. She half-assed promised she wouldn’t hurt herself anymore, and last night and this morning, I’d believe that. This girl sitting in front of me, on the other hand, is a different story.
I leave cash on the table for the waitress before we even get a bill. I probably ended up tipping more than she deserved considering her rude, condescending attitude toward Khloe when we first got here. I don’t have the patience to wait for her to bring our ticket though and Khloe needs the open road. A long ride on the bike always helps me clear my head. It brings hope and clarity. I pray it has the same effect on her.
Wordlessly, she tugs the helmet on her head and climbs behind me on the bike. I notice her grip around my waist isn’t as tight this time around. I drive with one hand, using my other to caress her hand on my stomach. I hope she sees it as soothing, which is part of my intentions. The other part is a way to keep her around me. The last thing I need is for her to get lost so far in her head that she gets careless and accidentally falls off, or worse yet, releases me on purpose.
I drive down Main Street, passing the Sam’s Club, Wal-Mart, and Target all lined up in a row; big box retailers have become a necessary evil in a growing town like Farmington. Before long, the department stores and fast food joints fade out and more rural, peaceful landscape lines the road ahead of us.
The motorcycle knows where it’s going before the idea even registers in my head. This is perfect though. Just what she may need, serenity and a place to reflect. I just hope it doesn’t backfire.
I turn off the main road and follow the narrow lanes around Lake Luther. Driving all the way down until the road ends, I park the bike in the driveway of a home way too big for the man that owns it. He built out here for privacy, but his time deployed has rendered neighbors that are going to be closer than he’s going to be comfortable with. He’ll deal with it when he gets back in a few months.
I climb off the bike and help Khloe with her helmet.
I watch as she looks around in awe. The house is massive. It’s two stories, with God knows how many rooms. Built for a family he no longer has.
“Your house?” Khloe says with a shade more brightness to her face than when they left the diner.
I take her hand and lead her to the front door, only releasing it momentarily to find the right key for the lock.
“You met Kincaid?” She nods. “This is his brother Dominic’s house. He’s deployed right now. God willing, he should be home in a few months.”
“He lives here alone?” She asks in awe as she walks through the front door.
“Crazy right?” I tug her to the kitchen and look in the cabinets. He’s been gone for quite some time, but I know he has to have something in here.
“Bingo,” I say enthusiastically pulling an unopened box of crackers from the cabinet.
I grab her hand again and head out back.
“Holy shit,” she says clearing the back porch. This property backs up almost to the water on Lake Luther. The huge lots on either side of Dominic’s house remain empty, giving the back yard a sense of privacy.
We walk toward the water and down the short wooden dock. I sit on the end and begin unlacing my boots, making my intentions clear. Khloe sits beside me, tugs her shoes and socks off, and begins to roll her jeans up her calves.
“That’s a lot of house for an Army man,” she says placing her shoes behind her on the dock.
“He’s a Marine,” I correct.
She chuckles lightly and I love the sound of it, especially after such a dismal morning.
“Even stranger,” she says smiling at me.
“How so?” I know what most people would think. A Marine being able to afford a house like this is crazy, but they have no idea the type of side work he does when he’s on leave. She has no clue the type of money we make on the missions that are sent our way.