Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 81285 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81285 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“Yeah, whatever.”
Deen glanced over in our direction, and it took everything I had not to tell him to fuck off. Thankfully, our shift came to an end, and we were cut loose for the night. As we started for the parking lot, I zipped up my coat and pulled my gloves from my pocket. When Memphis spotted me putting them on, he shook his head and said, “Can’t believe you rode tonight. It’s cold as hell.”
“What can I say?” I kicked my leg over the seat as I shrugged and said, “I’m a glutton for punishment.”
Before he could respond, I slipped on my helmet and turned on the engine, revving it to tune out anything either of them might have to say. I knew they would give me shit, and I couldn’t exactly blame them. It was cold as hell, too cold for the bike, but I wanted the cold.
I needed it to freeze out whatever had been clawing up my spine for the past few days and settle it back down where it belonged. I pulled out of the parking lot and eased the throttle back as I made my way out to the main road. It wasn’t long before my fingers started to sting through my gloves. My nose burned, but the tightness in my chest eased a little the faster I pushed.
I told myself it was enough, but the memories never played fair. All it took was a glimpse of an old barn, half-rotted and barely standing, for thoughts of my father to start creeping in. His face was stern and hard. It had that permanent coldness he always wore after Mom died. It was like her death had frozen him solid, and he never thawed out.
If he wasn’t working at the post office sorting the day’s mail, he was holed up in his shop. The door was always cracked, and the TV would be blaring some game he wasn’t really watching. He’d have a beer on the counter, and he’d sip on it as he pretended to be working on some big project.
Only there was never any project. He was just hiding.
From life.
From Davis.
From me.
From everything. Those days didn’t haunt me. I’d managed to push them out of my mind and put them behind me. But the good old days were a different matter.
I couldn’t seem to let go of the times when he’d woken me and Davis up early on a school day and announced that we were taking the day off. We’d spend all afternoon out on his boat fishing, and when we got back, he’d cook up a hell of a meal. Then, there were the days he’d play catch with us in the backyard and slow his throw just enough where Davis and I could actually catch it. He’d jump and cheer like we’d won the World Series.
Those were the memories that gutted me and made me wonder if we ever really knew him at all or if that version of him died right alongside Mom. I needed to let that shit go. I wasn’t a damn kid anymore. I was done waiting on a man who gave up on life, and even worse, gave up on himself.
I gunned the engine, and gravel spit under my tires as I took my turn. I glanced back, and the barn was now nothing more than a dark blur. By the time I pulled into my driveway, the cold had settled into my bones. My face was numb, my fingers were stiff, and I was looking forward to a hot shower.
I parked by the garage, and as I removed my helmet, I looked up at my house and sighed. I loved the place. I really did, but on nights like this, I wished I’d bought a place that didn’t need so much work. I told myself it had good bones. That’s what sold me on it.
It was weathered, but solid. It felt familiar in some way, and I knew it had to be mine. I’d managed to get the outside painted before the weather turned, but the inside was a different matter altogether. I pushed through the front door, and the hinges gave me their usual welcoming moan.
The entryway still looked like a construction zone. There were drywall mud buckets and flooring stacked high, and they taunted me as I tossed my keys on the counter and headed toward the fridge. I would get to them. I’d get to the new flooring and paint, too. I just hadn’t gotten around to it.
It seemed like every time I made plans to work on the house, something would come up. It could be anything. Club business, helping one of the brothers, or a shift at the Vault. It didn’t take much to deter me. I was beginning to think it was time to call in reinforcements, but this was my place.