Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 70319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
“The strip club?” Asa asked, interest on his face.
I rolled my eyes.
Asa loved going there because he got to run wild and nobody stopped him.
Also, usually when he was there, his papa showed. And Asa was all about his papa.
My father, better known as Papa for the last five years, loved Asa. At times, I thought, more than his own kids—i.e., me.
“Papa is out of town, remember?” I said. “And, if you’re good, we’ll go there this weekend. No more fighting, remember, Asa?”
Asa sighed.
“Fine.” He paused, a gleam coming into his eye. “Can we stop by Aunt Dillan’s store?”
I rolled my eyes. “If we go there, you’re not getting a donut. You need to eat healthier than I’m letting you eat lately.”
Asa rolled his eyes. “It’s not my fault that you don’t know how to cook.”
That was true.
I didn’t know how to cook. I couldn’t even scramble eggs without somehow fucking them up.
Needless to say, we’d gone to Dillan’s store four times since I’d had him, and three of those days he’d gotten a donut.
Every time that we walked in the door, Dillan would look at me accusingly, as if I should be giving him something healthier than a donut.
Which, technically, I should.
But how the hell was I supposed to give him something healthy when A, I didn’t have time since I had to work, and B, I couldn’t cook it. And let’s not mention the fact that even if I did cook it, he wouldn’t eat it.
Asa was the pickiest eater I’d ever met.
Anything green was out. Anything sour of any kind was out. Anything that didn’t resemble a cooking commercial was also out.
Pretty much, anything that I might be able to cook was something he wasn’t willing to eat.
Which was why we ended up at my mom’s place for dinner, and the donut shop that Dillan owned for breakfast.
“To answer your question,” I said as I wrapped my gun belt around my hips. “Yes, we’re stopping by Aunt Dillan’s store.”
Except, when we pulled into the parking lot, I immediately knew that we wouldn’t be getting anything today. There was a fucking school bus with kids pouring out of it in the parking lot, and all of them were headed inside.
There wouldn’t be a single thing left by the time Dillan got around to serving me.
Cursing under my breath, I looked back behind me at my kid. “How about Sonic?”
He grimaced. “No, thanks. I’ll just eat my peanut butter and jelly sandwich.” He paused. “You can bring me another one, right?”
I could.
If I didn’t eat lunch myself.
But that was a sacrifice I was willing to make at this point.
“Sure,” I agreed. “You ready? Buckled back in?”
After getting his nod, I pulled back into traffic, momentarily hoping that he didn’t get peanut butter or jelly all over himself before I dropped him off.
Delanie hated it when I dropped him off with dirty clothes.
I mean, it wasn’t like when I dressed him they weren’t clean…
School drop-off was its usual nightmare.
Thankfully, with Asa being in the second grade timeframe, I wasn’t being stuck with all the pre-K and kindergarteners that took forever and a day to get out of their parents’ car.
“You ready to bail out, kid?” I asked him, glancing into my rearview mirror.
He was already unbuckled, jacket on, and his backpack firmly in place.
And he didn’t have any stains that I could see.
Score.
“Yes, Daddy,” he said as he looked at the line of cars. Judging if he had time, he dropped his backpack and scrambled over and into the front seat. There, he pressed a kiss to my cheek.
I grinned and hugged him tight. His tiny arms wrapped around my head and squeezed, likely messing up my hair. Hair that Asa had begged me to do today because he wanted it to look ‘just like his.’
And usually, if it was within my power to give it to my kid, I gave it.
Like putting gel in my hair and slicking it up so that it had a mini-mohawk just like his.
“Love you, Daddy,” Asa said as he got ready to jump out.
My kid was a knees to chest kind of kid.
He had already put all of his crap back on, and he was bolting out of the car, running. His knees would practically hit his chest with how fast he moved.
I wished all kids in the car pickup and drop-off line would do the same.
But, sadly, they didn’t.
Like today.
The chick behind me.
I could see her fixing her kid’s ponytail and bow as she inched closer and closer to my back bumper.
I just prayed that she didn’t hit me, because I didn’t have time to deal with any fender benders.
I was already pushing it.
I usually was when it came to dropping Asa off and getting to the station by eight.
The teacher unloading the kids opened the door, and Asa was gone, running inside before anybody could even say hi to him.