Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
“I never did help with your list.” Feeling entirely useless, I fiddled with a package of lightbulbs on the shelf.
“It’s okay. I didn’t mind the talking.” He gave me an indulgent smile before adding a roll of wire to the cart. “Most of this is common sense stuff to tide us over until you can get a real crew out anyway.”
“Common sense to you, maybe. My eyes are crossing from all the different weird items.”
“Data cables aren’t weird.” He shook his head at me. “You need to eat something. That smoothie wasn’t enough. Food will make it easier for you to think. We’ll get something at a drive-thru on the way back.”
“Ha. We can stop, but it won’t help my squirrel brain.” The novelty of fast food intrigued me, part of this field trip to Normal People Land.
“Oh?” Cash leaned forward over the cart handle, considering me like he’d discovered I had an extra nose. “ADHD? I have a buddy in the service with that.”
“I didn’t think the SEALs would let ADHD people in. And I just got an ADHD diagnosis in rehab. Before that, I just thought I was a space case.”
“What did I say about talking mean about yourself?” He gave me a stern look that somehow also managed to be sexy as hell.
“Sorry. It actually has been helpful, having a name for all the things people used to yell at me for.” I followed him and the cart to the end of the aisle.
“That’s exactly what my friend says. Having a diagnosis helps. And as far as the service goes, it’s a hard road for anyone with a major difference like that, but he’s made it work. Gotta channel all that energy somehow.”
“Yup. I’m trying.”
“I know you are.” The gentleness in his rugged face made my breath catch.
I wanted someone to look at me like that for days on end, but Cash was already moving on, clucking his tongue about the poor selection of floodlights. “Hope we can make do with some of these. I want to be able to rig something up tonight, so we can at least sleep some.”
“We?” I might be spacey, but I hadn’t missed that part. “You’re staying over?”
“Nothing I can set up on the fly in a couple of hours is enough peace of mind for me to leave. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” I liked that he wanted me safe. Cash staying, even out of reluctant necessity, made me warm and kind of light inside. I liked not having to be alone with my worries. “Maybe it’ll be fun. Like a sleepover.”
A strange look crossed Cash’s face, and he paused mid-setting a light in the cart. “Fun. Let’s hope so.”
Judging by his skeptical tone, he probably didn’t think it would actually turn out to be fun, but I was determined to prove him wrong.
Chapter Seven
Cash
Daniel wanted a fun sleepover. Back at his place, I kept smiling to myself every time I remembered his enthusiasm. Outside of crashing with buddies and the very occasional date, I’d last had a sleepover at eleven before Kevin Huerter moved away, and I’d almost scoffed at Daniel’s suggestion. But I’d stopped because this was a kid who’d maybe never had that, not even once, or at least not without cameras flashing. If he wanted secret fort crow’s nests and to act like the fast food we’d had for lunch was an exotic treat, let him.
Indulging him was almost too easy, and maybe the fun he’d missed out on as a kid could help him stay sober now. I’d had enough hours with a navy shrink to know that was a path he had to walk entirely on his own. Same as my folks had, or had not as the case turned out. I didn’t have the power to keep someone sober, but little things like encouraging Daniel to get two different types of fries when he couldn’t pick, that I could do.
And I could also give him clear, focused tasks to help with the makeshift security setup. I’d worked with plenty of green petty officers with short attention spans like Daniel, and I knew how to keep him on track to get the job done.
“Okay. So now you hand me the drill we bought and the bit that looks like a star-tipped screwdriver.” I positioned the camera for the front gate with one hand and held out my other for the drill.
“You’re good at this.” He marveled like I’d scaled a ten-foot wall on the grinder obstacle course without help. “You even knew to buy the drill.”
“Something told me you didn’t have a toolbox.” I smiled down at him, but he didn’t seem to pick up on my teasing tone because his face creased.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Only reason I know how to fix anything is from following my friend’s mom around, and later, trial and error. If something broke at our place, it wasn’t like anyone else was gonna fix it. Navy filled in the rest of my skills along with helping buddies here and there.”