Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Within an hour, we have a plan for all the boxes—some of them are put away, and others are added to the donation pile.
“Okay, I feel better about this.” I wrap my arm around her shoulders. “It’s organized chaos now.”
“As opposed to regular chaos,” she says with a grin. “Yeah, I get it. Let’s take a break and eat something more than chocolate cake.”
“It was an excellent cake.”
She grins. “I know. But now I think I want pizza. Or maybe tacos. I’m in the mood for junk food.”
“Pizza,” we hear Caleb yell from the game room.
“It’s good to know he can hear us from in here.” I nuzzle the sensitive spot under her ear with my nose. “What do you want on your pizza, sweets?”
“Everything except anchovies.”
“A woman after my own heart. I’ll order it and go get it. That way, we won’t have to wait as long for it.”
“We’d better hurry,” she says. “We’re supposed to get some ice with this storm.”
“We’ve got time,” I reply. “It’s not even dark out yet.”
London brings up the app for the pizza joint on her phone, and after consulting with Caleb about what he wants, we place the order.
“I want to go with you,” Caleb says. “I can hold the pizzas.”
“Fine by me,” I reply.
“Maybe you should stay home,” London says with a frown. “Both of you, and we can just have it delivered instead.”
“It’ll be thirty minutes round trip,” I assure her.
“I know, I just…I don’t know… I have a bad feeling about it.”
“Mom, you worry too much,” Caleb says. “Me and Drew will be fine.”
“Drew and I,” she corrects. “Okay, you’re right. I’m going to stay here and bake a pie. I have been a baking machine lately.”
“The only complaint about that is the amount of time I have to spend at the gym, working it off,” I reply and lean in to kiss her. “We’ll be right back.”
“Okay, thanks for picking it up.”
Caleb and I put on coats and scarves in the mud room and head into the garage.
“Can I sit in the front with you?”
“No, sir,” I reply, shaking my head. “You know the drill.”
He sighs but gets into the rear seat behind the passenger seat so that he can see my face in the mirror. When he’s strapped in, I start the car and pull out of the garage and frown when I skid just a bit in the driveway.
“Looks like the ice is already starting,” I mutter, making a mental note to be extra careful on the short ride.
“It got so dark,” Caleb says from the back seat.
“The clouds are angry,” I agree and slowly make my way down the driveway. We’re both quiet all the way to the pizza place, and I breathe a sigh of relief when we make it unharmed.
If I’d known it was this treacherous, I wouldn’t have bothered with the pizza, and we would have figured something out at home.
But we’re here now, so we’ll make the best of it.
Caleb and I only have to wait about five minutes for our order to come up.
“You’re our last order for the night,” the manager says. “I’m letting my people go home. I don’t want them out in this weather.”
“Good call, man. It’s worse than I thought it would be. You be safe.”
“You, too.”
Caleb and I make it back out to the car, and I make him laugh when I seat belt the pizza in on the seat beside him.
“This way, it’s safe,” I say with a wink, and then climb in and start the car. We’ve just made it to the end of the parking lot when Caleb gasps.
“Oh, no! They forgot the breadsticks!”
I push on the brake and look back at him, but the car doesn’t stop. I slide out into the road, and an oncoming car, going way too fast for these conditions, can’t stop in time.
They hit me hard, broadsiding me and sending me into another car across the road.
Caleb screams before everything goes black.
“Drew!” Someone’s jostling my shoulder and yelling in my ear. “Drew, wake up. Wake up.”
I can hear Caleb crying, and I open my eyes to find him unstrapped, tapping my cheek.
“Get back in your seat.”
“We’re stopped,” he says. “We crashed. I grabbed your phone and called 9-1-1, and they’re coming. You’re not dead.”
“No.” But my shoulder is singing with pain, and I can feel blood running down my face. Fuck, I hope I don’t have a goddamn concussion. “I’m not dead.”
I can hear sirens in the distance and try to focus on Caleb.
“Are you hurt?”
“No, it didn’t hit me,” he says, but I can hear the fear in his voice. His eyes look a little shocky. “You passed out.”
He starts to cry now, and I reach back to take his hand. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay. Are you sure you’re not hurt anywhere? You’re not bleeding?”