Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 61723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
It’s how natural this all feels.
I stand at her kitchen counter while she finds Quinn’s shoe under the couch, while coffee brews, while I unpack biscuits from the diner because Johnny owes me one and because showing up empty-handed while eating another woman’s breakfast repeatedly feels rude even for me.
Quinn appears in the kitchen with one sock on and one off, hair crooked, backpack half-zipped. “Mellow!”
I look at Lucy. She groans. “I did not teach her that.”
“No,” I say with a smirk. “I did.”
Quinn grins at me with a gap where a baby tooth used to be and climbs into her chair.
Lucy slides a biscuit onto her plate and points at her orange juice. “Drink before you start talking.”
“Mama has rules for us, Mellow. I gotta get my juice before we can gabber.”
I hide a smile in my coffee. This has become our routine without anybody saying it out loud. I show up. Lucy pretends not to expect me. Quinn acts like I’ve always been there.
I tell myself it’s temporary. Then I stay just a little longer than I mean to.
By the time Lucy gets Quinn loaded into the car for school and I head back toward the clubhouse to swap the bike for the SUV, my chest feels too full in a way I don’t appreciate.
Today’s the spring festival prep day and tomorrow I get to spend the day with Quinn and Lucy all day.
Which means family crowds, booths, music, local vendors, and enough sugar in the air to rot your teeth just breathing.
Not my usual scene.
And yet I’ve spent the last two days making sure the SUV is clean, fueled, and ready because I’m picking them up.
Them.
Lucy and Quinn.
The phrase sits differently than it should.
I swing into the clubhouse lot just after eight and head straight to the garage where Grit is leaning over a workbench with Gainz, both of them elbow-deep in some argument about brake lines on the fork lift.
Grit looks up and whistles. “Well, damn. You washed it.”
I glance at the black SUV. “Needed it.”
“No,” Gainz says without looking up. “It didn’t. You wanted it.”
Same difference.
Grit circles the front of the vehicle slowly, like he’s inspecting a crime scene. “This for the woman?”
“Festival.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
I ignore him and open the back passenger door to check the booster seat again. Grit goes still behind me.
Then, very carefully, “Is that a car seat?”
“Booster seat. No need to move the one from Lucy’s car. They don’t cost that much. It’s not a big deal.”
He starts laughing so hard he has to brace a hand on the hood. Gainz looks up. “What?”
Grit points at me, still wheezing. “He bought a booster seat.”
Gains’s grin comes slow and mean. “No shit. Damn, Mellow is getting’ domesticated.”
I shut the door harder than necessary. “You two done?”
“Not remotely,” Grit adds. “You’ve gone and tied yourself down.”
“It’s for safety,” I explain.
“Sure it is.” Gainz challenges.
“It is,” I repeat.
And it is. Quinn rides in a booster or she doesn’t ride with me at all. Lucy could’ve brought her own, but I didn’t want her having to think about it and move the one she has around. So I picked one up yesterday. New. Good ratings. Easy latch system. Had to ask the woman in the store for help, which was humiliating and somehow not humiliating enough to stop me.
Grit wipes at his eyes. “Chux isn’t going to belivee this.”
“Tell him and I’ll bury you in the marina.”
He grins wider. “Oh, now that’s the Mellow we know.”
I leave before the conversation can get any worse.
By the time I pull up to Lucy’s house the next morning, the sky is bright blue and the whole street smells like cut grass and sun-warmed pavement.
I text as I pull in her driveway. Outside. That’s it.
No flourish. No room for misreading. The front door opens a minute later and Lucy steps out with Quinn bouncing beside her, and for a second the world narrows so hard I feel it in my ribs.
Lucy’s wearing a sundress. Simple, soft blue, fitted through the waist and loose over her legs. Nothing flashy. Sandals. Her hair down for once, falling over her shoulders in pale waves that catch in the sunlight.
I stare longer than I should.
Quinn’s in a yellow dress with little white flowers and two crooked braids that tell me Lucy did them in a rush.
Both of them stop at the bottom of the steps when they see the SUV.
Then Quinn spots the booster through the back door that I have opened waiting for her and gasps like I parked a unicorn in her driveway.
“Mama! He has a seat for me!”
Lucy looks from the booster to me. Then back to the booster. Something shifts in her expression. Surprise first. Then something quieter. Warmer.
“You bought that?” Lucy asks
“Yeah.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I know.”
She huffs out a soft laugh. “You really like saying that.”