Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
When he leaves, I look at Tuck. “That’s good news.”
“Sounds like it.” He stands, shoving his hands in his pockets. “A ride home is the least I owe you.”
“If we start owing each other, it will never end.” He’ll do me a favor, I’ll return it, and then the cycle will continue. I say, “You don’t owe me anything, but if we’re pushing into nighttime, I’d appreciate the ride home. My mom isn’t the greatest at navigating the roads up the mountain in the dark.”
“I’m off tonight. Just give me a call, and I’ll come get you.” This time he’s the one heading for the door before I can ask him the questions that were burning into my brain earlier when he and Autumn had their exchange. “I need to head to the station.” He stops shy of the door and glances at me. “You’re holding up better than expected. I’ll let everyone know, old man.”
“Who are you calling old man? I’m a year older than you, asshole.” Laughter gets me, causing some minor pain in my rib cage and me to lessen the movements. “Hey, thanks for stopping by.”
“Anytime. I’ll check in later.”
As soon as the door closes, the silence sets in to battle the thoughts rolling through my head. I can’t rig the tests, but damn, it would be good to get out of here. Though, admittedly, it’s not been so horrible this shift because of a certain nurse who worked it. Of course, she’s now gone. Fingers crossed I’m next. Larry may be a good nurse, but I sure am going to miss looking at Autumn. And talking to her. I want to learn more about her. Will I get another chance?
CHAPTER 7
AUTUMN
The slam of the screen door announces my arrival before I have a chance. But it’s the sweet smell of muffins that welcomes me home.
“Autumn?” My name streams from the kitchen along with the smell of the baked goodies.
“Fall?” one of my younger sisters yells from upstairs.
Dropping my bag on the floor at the base of the stairs, I call to both, “It’s me.”
My eyes are dragging as much as my feet. Holding the banister, I kick off my shoes.
Spring leans over the upstairs railing. “Do you have a dress I can borrow for tomorrow night?”
“Date, school event, going out with the girls, or—?”
“Date,” my youngest sister replies with her blond locks hanging over the wood with her. “First date specifically.”
I shuffle through my mind to remember the dresses in my closet. A lot goes missing and gets handed down with four women all basically the same size now. “I have a royal-blue eyelet dress that hits above the knee with puff sleeves that would look great on you and bring out your eyes.”
“Summer’s dress?” I don’t see my sister much since she’s working on her master’s at college just shy of two hours away, so I’m surprised to see her on a Friday morning.
“Yes. I never wear it because of the contrast with the color of my hair. Too much going on at once. Know what I mean? You can take it. Don’t you have class today?”
“No, and I wasn’t scheduled at work, so I came home.” Disappearing before she finishes, she adds, “Thanks for the dress.”
“You’re welcome.”
With the smell of muffins still wafting through the house, I follow the delicious scent into the kitchen. Sitting at the table when I enter, Dolly is so engaged in the book she doesn’t even look up. I spy the muffins cooling on the stovetop. “Good book?” I drop into a chair across from her.
Glancing up at me, she replies, “I’m about to find out.” She smiles, closing it without any shame, though some might feel otherwise with the half-ripped bodice barely keeping the heroine’s breasts contained and the large bulge on display in the pants of the hero on the cover. “The main characters are trapped in the captain’s cabin on a yacht.” Leaning in, she whispers, “And he’s not the captain. He’s a sexy deckhand on the run after being falsely accused of murder in the Mediterranean, but she doesn’t know it yet.” Her giggle rings through the small room.
I laugh, grinning along with her. “Juicy indeed and good morning.”
“Good morning.” She pushes off the table to help lift herself. “I bet you’re hungry.”
“A little, but you don’t need to make anything for me.”
Grabbing a plate from the oven, she says, “I already did. It should still be warm. And I made your favorite, blueberry muffins, after the others left. Fresh from the oven. Eat up so you can rest well.” It’s tempting to argue that she shouldn’t have gone to the trouble, but my stomach growls, and I know she loves to take care of us by cooking our favorites. “You know what I always say—”