Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“Seriously, though," she says, not moving from her stool. "Why don’t you just stay with me?"
"Because your family has helped me more than anyone else in my whole life," I say.
"What if it was me?" she asks, making me stop in my tracks. "Or anyone in my family? What if we lost everything we had, and you had this house with three bedrooms? Would you not offer it to us?"
"Of course, I would," I say, not skipping a beat.
"Good, so we got that covered. You can stay with me under one condition," she says, getting off the stool. "You never wear those jeans again."
I stand, folding my hand over my chest, knowing that I shouldn’t take her up on her offer. I knew when I parked the truck in the parking lot tonight that I shouldn’t come here. I knew when I walked in and saw her running back and forth that I should stay out of it. I knew all that, instead of following the yelling that was in my head. But what did I do? I jumped behind the bar and helped her out without thinking twice. "What are people going to say?"
Her eyebrows pinch together when she looks at me. "Well, they are going to think that I’m helping a friend out since you lived in our family barn that burned to the ground." She walks to the back of the bar toward the office.
"This is a horrible idea," I say to myself. "Just leave and say no," I say, knowing full well I would never leave her to walk to her car by herself in the dark.
"Okay, I’m ready to go," she says, coming back with her purse in her hand.
I wait for her to walk toward the door before I walk behind her. She sets the alarm and turns off the light, taking one look back at the bar and smiling. We walk out, and the dark air is still. "Is it always this dark?" I ask, and she looks around.
"No," she says and looks up to see two of the spotlights are off. "Fuck, I need to change the lights."
"I’ll do it tomorrow," I say, and she grabs her phone out of her pocket. "What are you doing?"
"Making a note so I don’t forget," she says.
"I just told you I’m going to do it," I say, and she ignores me and starts to walk toward her car. "Why are you like that?" I ask her when she stops right beside her car, folding my arms over my chest.
"I don’t know,” she huffs out. "Why are you like you are?" she throws back at me, going to her purse to fish out her keys. "Why don’t you accept help when you are given it?"
"You are a pain in the ass," I finally say, instead of saying she is right.
"Well, good news, then." She presses the button to open her car door. "I take it you will be coming to sleep in a bed tonight instead of a back seat?"
"Do I have a choice?" I ask, reaching out to open her door.
"We all have choices, Asher," she says, standing in front of me. "You have a choice to be an idiot and sleep in the back of your truck …" She tilts her head to the side, and even in the dark of the night, I can see the crystal in her eyes. "Or you can take me up on my offer and sleep in a bed that does not have bedbugs but that has been thrown up on and cleaned."
I laugh at her. "Well, when you put it that way, how can I say no to a bed that once had vomit on it?"
"Good choice," she says. "I’m going to pick up food on the way home. If you get there before me, the garage code is one, two, three, four."
"Your garage door is one, two, three, four?" I ask, shocked. "Your uncle is Casey Barnes, and you have one, two, three, four as a fucking code?"
She rolls her eyes at me. "You can change it if you like." She reaches out and grabs the door handle. I help her close the door, and I stand here, watching the car drive away.
Shaking my head, I grab the phone out of my pocket and walk back to the door of the bar. I turn on the flashlight and point it toward the spotlights that are out and I see that there is a hole in one of them. I look down at the ground and see the small pieces of glass on the ground. I snap a picture of the light and then walk over to the other one. I can’t see anything wrong with it.
I walk back to my truck and feel eyes on me. I turn around with my flashlight from my phone looking around. "Hello," I say to no one. I turn from one side to the next seeing no one there, but still feeling eyes on me.