Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
“I guess my point is, it’s okay for both of you to be happy right now. And sure, things will probably come up, and you’ll need to find someone for Zuri to talk to because even if you two are close, she might not want to share with you how she really feels about certain things since she might not want to hurt your feelings. But that’s all to be expected, and at the end of the day, it’s okay to just be in this moment and happy about where you are.” She passes me a couple of napkins from the holder on the table, and I use them to soak up the tears under my eyes.
“You’re doing an amazing job.” Harmony wraps her arm around me and rests her head on my shoulder. “And you know that we’re here. Mom and Dad are here, and everyone else is here, even if you don’t want them to be.”
“Thanks.” I laugh through my tears. “I love you guys.”
“We love you too.” Willow reaches across the table for my hand. “And we are so fucking happy you’re home and that you have Zuri with you.” Tears fill her eyes, too, while I see Harmony reach for the napkin holder and pass a few to Willow while keeping some for herself. It takes the three of us a few minutes to get the tears under control, but eventually we pull ourselves together enough to continue eating. And thankfully, we change the topic to their lives and their kids and husbands and just catch up, something we don’t get to do often with just the three of us because we have such a huge family.
By the time we’re finished, it’s past time for me to be back at my desk at home, so we pay our check and say goodbye outside the diner. After hugging the two of them, they both get into Willow’s SUV since they drove together from our parents’ house, where they left their little ones. Giving them a break and our mom some time with her grandbabies. Something she never passes up.
As I’m driving back to my house to go back to work, I swear I’m seeing things when I notice what looks like a white mist coming from under the hood of my Bronco, but as I make a left turn onto Main Street, it becomes very apparent that I’m not imagining things, and my engine is, in fact, smoking. And it’s smoking a lot more than it was just seconds ago.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I look around for a safe place to pull over while I silently curse under my breath.
I got my Bronco five years ago from an older woman who had recently lost her husband and had no kids or grandkids to pass it down to. Over the years they were married, he had put in lots of time and money updating the interior and exterior himself, and it was his pride and joy. She probably could have gotten four times what I paid her at auction, but she wanted the vehicle to go to someone who would love it and use it as much as he did. She didn’t want it sitting in a garage just to be shown off on occasion. I have had zero regrets since the moment I gave her the money.
Not only is my Bronco pretty to look at, but she was perfect for the Colorado winters. But ever since I drove her across the country, she has been struggling. I get it she’s old and tired and probably needs a full engine replacement, but no one has the money for that, at least not right now. My dad has been telling me for a while that I need to sell her and buy something new, but I love my girl, just not when she is making noises or possibly catching on fire.
Once I’m pulled over on the side of the road in front of a small nursery that sells everything from flowers to trees and greenhouses, according to the sign out front, I shut down the engine. Popping the hood, I get out with my cell phone in hand and walk around to the hood opening it up without thinking. A plume of steam hits me in the face that smells like oil, but thankfully, there is no fire. At least not one I can see.
As I stand there with the hood open, looking at the engine, I’m hit with the reality that I know nothing about cars. The only thing I’m capable of doing when it comes to any vehicle is changing a tire because my dad insisted me and my sisters learn that skill when we were in the process of getting our driver’s licenses. And I’m not actually sure I’m even capable of doing that since I have never had to actually do it outside of the one time I did it under my dad’s watchful gaze.