Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
After twenty minutes of staring at nothing, I grab my phone from the nightstand and scroll through the local real estate listings. I’m not in a huge rush to find a place, but at the same time, I wonder if I will ever feel settled if I don’t. I know buying a home during the season isn’t the ideal situation, but if I find my dream home here in Kansas City, then I can’t pass it up.
Nothing stands out at me after an hour of searching, and I know if I don’t get my ass to sleep, I’m going to be dragging at practice in the morning. Placing my phone back on the charger, I close my eyes and eventually drift off to sleep.
I’m up and dressed for practice before Caleb, so I decide to make us some breakfast. Pulling the ingredients for ham and cheese omelets out of the fridge, I get to work. Luckily, we have two hours of watching film before we ever touch the field, so our breakfast will have plenty of time to settle. There is nothing worse than sitting through film starving to death. Okay, maybe not starving, but you get the picture.
“I knew it was a good idea for you to live here,” Caleb says, walking into the kitchen.
“Well, someone needs to feed your lazy ass.” I chuckle. I slide our omelets onto our plates and start another.
“Man, you’re going to regret that second one once we hit the field,” Caleb says before shoving a huge bite into his mouth.
“This one is for Joey. That’s the least I could do after she made dinner last night.”
He points his fork at me. “Good plan. Maybe she’ll stay a little longer and make us home-cooked meals every night.”
“She good?” I ask. I know there is something going on with her. My gut tells me she’s not here just for a visit. Her eyes tell me the same thing. She just seems off to me. Not at all the girl I remember.
“Yeah.” He nods. “She didn’t really say much. Just that she might stay a little longer than planned.”
“Can she do that? I mean with her job?”
“She said she can. I can’t turn her away. She’s my sister.”
“I’d never ask you to do that. I can go if you think it makes her uncomfortable.”
“No. It’s all good. I just… are you good with her being here?”
“Caleb, this is your house. She’s your family. I have no right to say who can and cannot stay in your home.”
He nods. “I know. I’m just all out of sorts right now. There’s something going on, but she hasn’t told me. She said she was exhausted from the drive last night and wanted to go to bed. She promised to talk to me tonight.”
“You have any idea what it might be?”
“No idea, man. I just hope it’s not our parents. Her mom is a fucking joke, and well, you know my dad.”
I grimace. From the stories I’ve been told and from the things I’ve witnessed on my own, he’s right. Nothing good comes from Joey’s mom and their dad. “Let’s hope that’s not the case.”
“Thanks for this.” He stands and places his empty plate in the dishwasher.
“You have paper so I can write her a note?” I ask, pointing to the omelet that’s still sitting in the cast iron pan.
“Just text her.”
“I don’t have her number.”
“Easy fix.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket, and a few moments later, I get a message. “Now you do.” He moves to walk out of the kitchen. “I’ll drive today. We leave in ten,” he calls over his shoulder.
Scarfing down the rest of my breakfast, I place my plate in the dishwasher and then begin to pull open drawers looking for paper. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all about modern technology, but for some reason, I want to write her a note. It’s more personal, and I don’t know. I just feel like she needs that. Whatever it is that’s going on with her, I feel like she needs the personal connection.
Finding a small notebook and a pen in the drawer next to the fridge, I scribble her a note.
Joey,
Thanks for dinner. Breakfast is on me.
Check the oven.
Brock
I place the note on the center of the counter before placing foil over the cast iron pan and sticking it in the oven. The oven isn’t heated up, but it will help contain the heat of the pan. Hopefully, it’s still good by the time she wakes up.
“I looked at some houses last night online,” I tell Caleb once we’re in his truck and on our way to the stadium.
“Yeah? Find anything?”
“Not really.”
“You don’t have to rush into finding a place. I thought you were just going to stay with me until the season was over?”