Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
“Pretty good.” He’s relaxed. It’s enjoyable seeing him this way. The man is always working. It sucks he had to break his leg to get time off, but it’s given us all a chance to settle in together in this new dynamic.
It also helps that he’s union, and they have given him time off, a chunk of it paid. There was also a GoFundMe that a bunch of truckers donated to. They started it all on their own. Bam is also here, and I think he might make more than my father. He’s always got a lot of cash on hand, but Dad’s got our health insurance, and that’s worth a million bucks.
“How about you?” he asks, pausing the old black and white Western he’d been watching.
“I’m great.” I give a small bounce on my seat.
“You got something to tell me? I can tell because you’re wiggling around like you got ants in your pants.” I was never really good at hiding stuff from him. He may have been gone a ton over the past year, but this man knows me better than I know myself sometimes.
“I might, but I want to save it for dinner. It’s good news.”
“Josie, girl, often what you think of as good news can scare the shit out of me.” He’s not wrong there.
“I keep you on your toes, old man. It keeps you young.” He shakes his head at me, but I see the whisper of a smile he’s trying to fight. “You and Bam are really getting along.” I get all these warm feelings watching them.
“For now.”
“Dad—”
“Maybe I need to keep him on his toes,” he counters, and I can’t argue with that one. The door handle rattles with the sound of the key sliding into the lock. I jump up and fling myself at Bam when he enters. He lets out a small grunt and tries to wrap an arm around me.
“Don’t drop my food,” Dad says.
“Sorry,” I tell Bam.
“You don’t look it.” He gives me one of his smiles that shows promise for later.
“I get excited when you get back and you have tacos.” Bam drops a lame, chaste kiss on my lips. He’s all about following my dad’s rules. Believe me, I try to entice him to break them more often than I’m even willing to admit, but he holds steady. It’s annoying but sweet.
I grab a few paper plates to set the table as Bam unloads the food. Dad wobbles his way into the kitchen, never letting anyone help him. Stubborn as a darn mule.
“How was work?” I tease Bam, but really it is his job. It may not be a conventional one, but it pays the bills.
“All’s good. I’m going to take a quick shower. I was told I smell.”
“You do,” Dad tells him, making me snort a laugh. If anyone was wondering where I got my directness from, they don’t need to look any further than my father. The man never shies away from saying what’s on his mind.
“I’ll be quick,” he says, going to clean up. I grab my dad’s meds for him to be able to take after he eats. Bam is back in no time at all. It’s so unfair how fast men can shower and still look hot as hell.
“Eat, rebel. You didn’t have to wait for me.” These two are going to tag team me about food now. They’re like the diabetic police over here. It’s annoying, but I love it. They can share in this hobby. It will help them bond more. I’m willing to take one for this little team we’re building.
“Think she’s waiting because she’s got news to tell us.”
Bam’s shoulders drop.
“It’s not bad!” I throw my hands up. You’d think I was the one running the streets in a gang.
“Then hit us with it.” Bam sits down across from my dad. I take the seat between them.
“You know the article I wrote.” The article went far past the events that unfolded and the missing boys. It delved deep into gambling and it being targeted at young males. It’s not only on the streets; it’s online too. These companies seek out a young male population. It’s really an epidemic and a hard addiction for people to kick.
“Of course we do,” Dad says.
“I read it ten times.” God, I love them.
“Golden Marks News reached out and offered me a weekly article!” I almost burst when I say it.
“Proud of you.” Dad reaches over and squeezes my hand.
“Of course they did. They’d be dumbasses not to. You’re brilliant.” My cheeks start to warm. Bam really does think I hung the moon.
“They want me to write about things that are affecting teens. They are kind of giving me free rein to come up with ideas, but that’s the direction they want the weekly post to be.” When they pitched the idea to me, I knew it was what I wanted to do. Not only because it’s my dream but I felt like maybe my articles could actually help someone.