Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 95775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
That’s about as far into that conversation as I can go without sounding ignorant. “We can go to a bookstore later today if you want.”
He nods. “These are good pancakes.”
“Thanks.”
I watch him take a drink of his juice, and when he sets the glass down, he says, “What are you interested in?” He nods toward the plate. “Other than cooking.”
I don’t know how to answer that. Most of my time is given to my restaurants. Whatever time I have left over is spent on house repairs, laundry, sleep. “I like the Cooking Channel.”
Josh chuckles. “That’s sad.”
“Why?”
“I said besides cooking.”
It’s a harder question than I thought, now that it’s being thrown back at me. “I like museums,” I say. “And going to the movies. And traveling. I just don’t do any of those things.”
“Because you’re always working?”
“Yeah.”
“Like I said. Sad.” He leans over his plate to catch another bite of pancake.
The get-to-know-you questions are backfiring, so I cut right to the chase. “What was your fight about?”
He shrugs. “Half the time I don’t even know what the hell I do wrong. She just gets mad for no reason.”
I can relate to that. I let him eat for a while before I pose another question. “Where have you been staying?”
Josh doesn’t look at me. He scoots food around on his plate for a moment, and then says, “Your restaurant.” His eyes slowly journey back over to mine. “You have a really comfortable couch in your office.”
“You’ve been sleeping inside the restaurant? For how long?”
“Two weeks.”
I’m in shock. “How have you been getting in?”
“You don’t have an alarm at that one restaurant, and I finally figured out how to pick the lock after a few tries. Your other restaurant was too hard to get into, though.”
“You know how to pick…” I can’t help but laugh. Brad and Darin are going to love saying I told you so. “Why’d you go from sleeping there to vandalizing it?”
Josh looks at me reluctantly. “I don’t know. I guess I was mad.” He pushes his plate away and leans back in his chair. “What now? Do I have to go back to her?”
“What do you want to happen?”
“I want to live with my dad.” He scratches at his elbow. “Can you help me find him?”
I want to find Tim about as much as I wanted to find my mother, which is not at all. “Do you know anything about him?”
“I think he lives in Vermont now. I just don’t know where.”
“When’s the last time you saw him?”
“A few years ago. But he doesn’t know where to find me anymore.”
Josh looks every bit his age right now. A fragile kid, abandoned by his father but refusing to lose hope. I don’t want to be the one to rip that from him, so I just nod. “Yeah, I’ll see what I can do. But for now, I need to let your mother know you’re okay. I have to call her.”
“Why?”
“If I don’t, this could be considered kidnapping.”
“Not if I’m here willingly,” he says.
“Even if you’re here willingly. You aren’t old enough to decide where you want to live, and right now, your mother has legal custody of you.”
He grows visibly irritated. He stabs at his breakfast with a scowl, but doesn’t take another bite.
I step away to call Sutton. I unblocked her number after she left my restaurant last night in case she needed to get in touch with me. I dial her number and put the phone to my ear. After a few rings, she finally answers with a very groggy hello.
“Hey. I found him.”
“Who is this?”
I briefly close my eyes while I wait for her to wake up and remember her son is missing. After a few quiet seconds, she goes, “Atlas?”
“Yeah. I found Josh.”
I can hear rustling from her end like she’s hopping out of bed. “Where has he been?”
I really don’t want to answer that. I know she’s his mother, but I feel like it’s none of her business where he’s been, which is an unusual opinion to have. “I’m not sure where he’s been, but he’s with me now. Listen… I was wondering if he could stay here for a while? Maybe give you a break?”
“You want him to stay there with you?” The way she puts the emphasis on that last word makes me wince. This is going to be harder than I thought. She’s the type of person who fights for the sake of fighting, no matter what outcome she really wants.
I could enroll him in school and make sure he attends,” I offer up. “Take the truancy heat off you.” It’s quiet on her end, like maybe she’s contemplating that.
“Such a martyr,” she mutters. “Bring him back. Now.” She ends the call.
I attempt to call her back three times, but she sends the calls to voice mail.