Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“The food is getting cold,” she breathes, face flushed.
“Fuck the food. I’m craving this,” I say, flexing my hips into her.
“Later,” she insists, straightening her legs and breaking out of my hold. “I worked hard on this.”
“It’s perfect.” And it is. The two things that bring me peace—my spot and my girl.
Lo takes my hand, tugging me toward the piles of pillows and blankets. She brought takeout from my favorite Italian place and cherry danishes for dessert. Lo is tense and quiet through our meal, still appearing nervous. I don’t know what the fuck to make of it, so I ask.
“What else is going on, Lo?”
“I have one more surprise for you,” she admits, seeming almost scared of my reaction.
“What is it?” The way she’s acting has my gut twisting with dread. Lo doesn’t get shy or nervous. What could possibly have her all twisted up? She pulls out her phone, tapping at her screen for a minute before putting it away.
“Five more minutes,” she says cryptically, before crawling across the pillows, coming to sit on my lap, linking her ankles behind my back. “Just remember I love you,” she says. I dip my head, pressing my nose into her neck, unable to resist inhaling her scent and her warmth.
“Dare,” Lo whispers right as I hear footsteps behind me. I tense up, and Lo rubs my back, as if taming a scared animal—which I guess would accurately describe me at this moment. Lo unlatches her legs and stands. I follow her lead and turn around to face whoever it is. Lo tucks her small hand into mine as I look at him, trying to place his familiar face.
“Stefan,” says the deep voice belonging to the man standing across from me in a police uniform. The corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles at me. “You probably don’t remember me. I’m Officer Davies. The officer who found you.”
As soon as the words are out of his mouth, I’m flooded by memories I didn’t even know I had. Drawing on a notepad in the front seat of his police car, him taking off his jacket and wrapping it around me. Then later, sitting on his lap at the police station as I ate his trail mix, not wanting to separate from the first person to show me kindness in my whole life.
So many emotions slam into me at once, and for a minute, I’m that dirty, neglected four-year-old again. I remember sitting on the cement parking block, feeling cold and hungry and confused. I was trying to stay warm in my Ninja Turtles jacket when a bright light blinded me. Seconds later, Officer Davies came into view, bending over to pick me up.
“I’ve got you, buddy,” he said over and over as he held me, probably more scared than I was.
Letting go of Lo’s hand, I pinch the bridge of my nose, ducking my head, not wanting to give in to the urge to do something stupid like shed a tear. I hear Officer Davies move closer, and then he’s wrapping his arms around me for the second time in twenty-three years. He gives me the man-clap on my back, and when I look up, his eyes are shining with unshed tears.
“I never got to thank you,” I say, my voice thick with emotion before I clear my throat.
“No thanks needed. I’m just glad your girl tracked me down. Throughout my entire career, I’ve wondered where you ended up.”
“You did this?” I ask Lo, who has tears streaming freely down her cheeks. She nods.
“I looked you up. Of course, it didn’t say your name, but I had enough details to find an old article about you. I thought you might like to meet him.”
I hear what she’s not saying. She knows I have no desire to find my mother, so she did the one other thing that could bring me a piece of my past without involving the person who abandoned me. I have so much fucking love for this girl. I hook an arm around the back of her neck, pulling her close and pressing my lips to her forehead. She smiles up at me, and I know she feels the gratitude I can’t put into words.
“I brought these for you,” Officer Davies says, holding out an envelope. I hesitate, not sure I can handle any more of the past. When I take it, I find drawings of stick figures scribbled in pencil. They look as if a kid much younger than four drew them.
“You saved these?” I ask, and he nods. “I think you were the first person to put a pencil in my hand.”
“He’s an artist,” Lo supplies.
“A tattoo artist,” I correct. She gives me too much credit.
“I’ll go ahead and take credit for that then,” Davies says with a chuckle. “I have one you drew for me at home, too.”