Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
One of her friends glances over her shoulder and spots me. I pretend to busy myself looking at a display booth filled with clay creations. I’m getting sloppy if a civilian can spot me in a festival this crowded.
I wait until her friend has stopped paying attention then I resume following the group, but more carefully this time. Like I do every night, I promise myself this is the last time.
Mackenzie
I pull my car to a stop in the driveway of my dad’s cabin. He built it the summer my mom died. He disappeared into the mountains. He’d surface into town occasionally to take lumber from his store. He was a ghost, barely talking to me back then.
Sometimes, I can’t believe she’s gone. Even though it’s been four years, I still find myself trying to dial her number on my phone. I still find myself wanting to text her when I need someone to talk to.
I wonder what she’d say about Ace. He’s been my constant shadow since that day with Cody. He’s trying to be discreet, or at least, I think he’s trying to be. But despite all of his training and all of his careful efforts, I can still sense when he’s nearby. He’s the other half of my soul. How could I not feel him?
Something in the bushes moves, and a small brown rabbit hops out. Rabbits were my mom’s favorite, and the sight makes me smile.
“Miss you, mama,” I say as I get out of my car. I jog up the wooden steps and walk in with the sodas tucked under my arm. The running joke in our family is that I’m a kitchen disaster. Put a power drill in my hands and I know what to do. Put a spatula in my hands and chaos is sure to follow.
As soon as I walk into the kitchen, I take a big appreciative inhale. It’s casserole night. It’s always casserole night.
Daisy, the yellow Labrador that Dad took in a year ago, sticks her cold nose to my hand. I pause to greet her before smiling at my dad.
He’s at the stove, wearing the apron my mom got him that has a pun on it. He pulls the casserole out and beams at me. “Just in time, honey.”
I kiss him on his weathered cheek and show him the sodas. “My contribution.”
“Good, good. Ace is here too.”
My heart starts pounding. I haven’t seen him since that afternoon. At least, not other than his quiet stalking which neither of us has acknowledged.
I know Ace told my dad what happened because he sat me down for a lecture the next day, insisting that I bring any problems with the hardware store to him. He was furious with Cody though he seemed mollified by the fact that Ace had shown up when he did.
My dad might own the hardware store, but he left me in charge of it the day I graduated high school. That was the day my mom got the phone call about her biopsy results. At first, I delayed college and ran the store to help them out. But now six years later, I love that little shop and the regulars that show up each week.
Throughout my mom’s battle and her eventual death, the shop gave me something I desperately needed: a purpose and a reason to get out of bed each morning.
Dad is rarely involved in the shop now. He’s more of a silent partner. He sometimes comes into town when he’s working as a handyman. But other than that, he stays tucked away in his little mountain cabin where he works on his motorcycles and talks to his dog.
I excuse myself to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. Normally, Thursday nights are my night to have dinner with my dad. Ace isn’t here. We rarely see each other. Ever since that kiss at my mom’s funeral, he’s barely acknowledged my presence.
“Act normal,” I whisper to my reflection. Yeah, I can totally act normal. I can pretend that what’s happening between me and Ace isn’t weird. I can pretend that I don’t lie awake in bed, trying to define this strange bond between us.
Leaving the bathroom, I join my dad and Ace at the table. He’s made tater tot casserole this time, the one with the mushrooms in it. He makes it the same way my mom did except for one difference. She always pulled out my mushrooms.
While the two of them talk, I nudge the food around my plate and try to plan video content for my channel. I have an online video channel and blog where I help women learn how to conquer everyday home repairs.
It started when a pipe under my sink was leaking, and I fixed it myself. I felt so empowered that I didn’t have to call my dad or another handyman that I decided I wanted to help other women experience the same feeling.