Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“You okay?” Sean raised a hand like he was tempted to touch my shoulder, then quickly lowered it. “Thank God you were here to help.”
“I’m fine.” I waved off the concern. “And the older kids had the situation largely under control. John even thought to hose down the house.”
“First responder kid.” Sean nodded with obvious approval. “Eric will be proud once he gets over being scared to death.”
Over by the ambulance, Eric seemed to be alternating between handing out hugs and lectures, with Wren gesturing wildly, undoubtedly continuing to proclaim their innocence.
“Yep.” I chuckled, adrenaline making my laugh shaky. “I meant it about the cooking lessons.”
“Thanks.” A sheepish expression crossed Sean’s face as he glanced over at Eric and the kids. “We don’t usually leave dinner to the kids. We’ve tried to stagger our schedules so there’s always an adult here, but tonight was a bit of a perfect storm all around.”
“Those kids are more than old enough to help out though. Everyone should know the basics of cooking.” I kept my voice practical. Sean didn’t need any additional guilt.
“I hear that. My mom gave me a crash course the summer before I got married. She made sure all three of us kids could hold our own in the kitchen.”
“Good mom.” I stared off at the freestanding garage that had old-fashioned carriage house styling. “I picked up skills here and there from various foster homes, but mainly from working restaurant gigs from fifteen on.”
“I’m… That must have sucked for you.” Sean had evidently thought better of the tired “I’m sorry” response that so many folks liked to trot out. “All four of Eric’s kids came from the foster-to-adopt program. Two sibling groups.”
“Lucky kids. Not everyone gets adopted. Some of us age out.” I shrugged and looked away when Sean’s face creased with concern.
“Your whole childhood was in foster care?” he said softly. “Wait. You don’t have to tell me. Of course I’m curious, but you don’t owe me your story.”
“It’s okay.” I appreciated that he was trying not to push, but the curiosity was natural. “And it’s a pretty short, common story. My parents were young and in and out of trouble even before I came along. Dad stuck around long enough to be on the birth certificate and to give me this name, but he was nowhere to be found when the state got involved a few years later. Mom made multiple attempts at sobriety, none of which stuck. I don’t remember much about either of them, but by the time the state finally terminated parental rights, I was at that hard-to-adopt elementary school age. School wasn’t my jam, and all the fights I wound up in didn’t exactly help my adoption prospects.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” Sean’s voice was firm and loyal. “The system failed you. And that sucks. I hate how many kids have stories like yours, bouncing from home to home, eventually aging out. There aren’t enough families like Eric and Montgomery’s.”
“Yeah. These kids are lucky.” I glanced over at the trio with Eric again. He was clearly in dad mode and upset, but the love he had for the kids also came through loud and clear. “And I turned out okay,” I lied to reassure myself as much as Sean. “After I aged out, I had a lot of good years, bumming around the country, and food service work was always something I could fall back on.”
“Still had to be hard—hey, you have a cut.” Abruptly changing topics, Sean pointed at a thin line running the length of my palm onto my forearm.
Damn it. That would smart under a glove all night at the diner. “It’s a scratch. Nothing—”
“Tate!” Sean cut me off to yell over to the ambulance crew. “Bring your kit over here.”
“Coming.” A younger EMT with closely cropped black hair standing near Eric started digging around in their rig.
“Seriously. I don’t need patching up,” I said, only to get a stern look from Sean. More of that leadership potential others saw so easily. He was darn near commanding as he pushed me to sit on a nearby bench.
“You’re going to let Tate look you over.”
“Thought I gave the orders around here.” I kept my voice low but meaningful.
“Using what? Telepathy?” Sean’s reply was equally pointed. And warranted.
“Guess I deserve that.” I met his harsh gaze. “I’m sorry I didn’t text.”
“It’s… It is what it is.” Sean quirked his mouth. Something twisted in my gut. Gone was the happy-go-lucky guy with a counter for my every objection. And, perversely, I missed that guy and his determination. “If you’ve changed your mind…”
“Nope,” I said quickly as the younger EMT headed our way. My fear morphed again, fear of missing out on more of Sean and his sunshine personality and those world-shattering kisses making me reckless. “Tomorrow morning. After our shifts. Kids will be at school?”