Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 104820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
His mom took a breath—a rather shaky breath. “Arch, you could have died.”
He shook his head. “No, I was fine doing the stunt. It was the prop dynamite that spooked the horse. That’s why he went down. I’ve tried to explain this to everyone, but no one seems to believe me.” But instead of calming her, his explanation only seemed to make things worse.
“Please, Arch,” she said, “all I’m asking is that you let the professionals do the really dangerous stunts in the future.”
He was about to defend himself again when she held up her hand.
“Don’t answer me now. I feel bad for even asking you to consider this—it goes against who you are. But I’m your mom, and I can’t help myself. So just promise me you’ll at least think about not doing the dangerous stunts.” Her voice cracked as she added, “Because you’re still my baby, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Arch felt his heart plummet to his toes. It would break his mom and dad to have one of their kids seriously hurt, let alone to lose one. But he had to live his own life. And that meant playing by his own rules and trusting his instincts—just as they’d raised him to do. At the same time, he understood that he needed to find a way to live life on his terms while avoiding taking foolish risks. The issue at present was that he wasn’t exactly certain how to do that.
His mom seemed satisfied now that she’d said her piece. She turned the subject back to her morning class, but Arch’s mind wandered a little as she spoke. She would never have known how bad his accident had been if his emergency contact—his big brother Nick—hadn’t called the family and let them know Arch had been hospitalized. He would have to speak to Nick about not worrying their folks unnecessarily. It caused too much anguish.
He was about to help himself to another cookie when the door buzzer sounded. His mom stood to answer it, but before she could get there, the door opened. His sister Mila called, “Anybody home?”
Which was clearly her idea of a joke, because they all knew he was marooned in his house, recuperating.
Mila appeared in the doorway, a bunch of grapes in one hand, flowers in the other, and her hair still dripping wet.
“Been surfing, sis?” he asked.
Mila waved the flowers. “No. I was getting a manicure.” She paused a beat before giving a little laugh. “Of course I was surfing.”
Arch knew he should have laughed, too, but he was struck with a sudden, overwhelming envy of her ability to dive into the cool ocean and ride the waves, when he was in a cast. “Do you have to rub it in? Showing up here all sandy and windblown when I’m stuck in this chair for ten weeks?”
Mila shared a look with his mom, clearly both thinking, What’s he so annoyed about?
But Mila had learned something about patience herself over the years—especially considering her injury had ended her career, whereas once his broken leg healed, his career could continue without any issues. So, in a calm voice, she said, “I’ll just put these flowers in water.”
Mila placed the grapes on the coffee table next to the cookies. Arch eyed the fruit—he would have to stick to a healthy diet and keep working out if he was going to be in shape for Shock Tactics. But his mom’s oatmeal cookies were irresistible. He reached for one, telling himself that he had the willpower to train extra hard when he needed to burn off some cookie calories. The buttery dough all but melted on his tongue, and he chewed the raisins, enjoying the bursts of sweetness.
His mom sent him that look, the one that said, This is not how I raised you, Archer Davenport, so with his mouth still half full, he said, “Thanks for the flowers, and sorry about the bad mood—but don’t you think I want to be surfing?”
Mila turned back from the kitchen cabinet, her blue-green eyes flashing. “Then you shouldn’t have done a stunt that nearly got you killed. I heard that horse rolled over onto you and nearly did you in.”
Arch felt the color rise in his cheeks. Why did everyone seem to think it was his fault? He was tired of explaining that it hadn’t been. The prop department had screwed up. It happened. And now he had to listen to everyone in his family tell him he’d been an idiot.
“I’m changing my emergency contact to somebody who doesn’t tell everyone my business,” he said in a grumpy voice. “Nick’s nothing but a blabbermouth.”
Mila put down the vase she’d been filling with water a little too abruptly, and some liquid splashed over the side. “Arch, you know we don’t keep secrets in this family. There’s no way Nick wasn’t going to tell us what happened. It would be the same no matter which of us was your emergency contact.”