Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 15998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
“I couldn’t,” I whispered, not feeling very adult at the moment.
“My folks would have wanted to help.” Tate leaned forward, winced again, then rubbed his closely cropped hair with his left hand. “I would have tried to help. So many people would have helped.”
“I work for CASA. I know all the resources for kids in the system now, trust me. But at twelve? I wasn’t going to tell a soul how out of control my parents’ drug problem had become.” I paused to try to slow my heart rate. Tate wasn’t lying. His family would have readily offered assistance. But their warm and loving vibe with an always-welcoming house was precisely why I hadn’t been able to say anything. “I was scared and confused and ashamed.”
“Ashamed?” Tate sucked in a harsh breath. “You thought it was your fault? God, kid logic is the worst. I’ve seen it on duty, and I hate how kids always seem to blame themselves for bad shit. Hate that you couldn’t tell anyone.” He tried again to touch me but recoiled as soon as he moved his arm. “Ow. Fuck.”
“Sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.” He offered me a far gentler smile, and I could see how he was likely good as an EMT, making people feel calmer with a simple sympathetic look. “The curse was because I tweaked my injured wrist. But whatever went down, it absolutely wasn’t your fault.”
“Thank you.”
“You were never tempted to reach out?” Using his left hand, Tate pulled out a shiny phone with a rugged case, staring at it like he expected my pic to pop up. “I looked for you on social media a few times over the years, but I didn’t know the new last name. ‘Tennessee Church’ got nine zillion hits, none relevant.”
“My last name changed when my foster family adopted me. And I’m not really much on social media stuff.” I stared at my swollen hand, studying the bruising rather than trying to figure out what it meant that Tate had searched for me. “I share pictures of my cat once in a blue moon, but otherwise, I tend to forget the accounts exist. Also, for a lot of years, I felt misplaced shame and guilt over how I was forced to leave. Then I saw the job opening here, and it seemed like a sign.”
“Absolutely.” Tate was back to beaming, voice warm and welcoming. “I’m glad you’re back.”
“Thanks.” A family of four trekked past us, jostling my arm as they passed. “Ow.”
“Oh crap.” Tate glanced down, seemingly only now noticing my injury. “Your right arm is hurt like mine? What happened?”
“It’s a long, rather embarrassing story.”
“I’ve got nothing but time. And I’m an EMT. I’ve heard worse, I’m sure.” He winked, an absolutely devastating addition to his charm. “And done worse. Likely today. Spill.”
Chapter Two
Tate
Tennessee was back in Mount Hope. I’d spent fifteen years wondering what had happened to my best friend, and now that he was here beside me, I was practically giddy. Who cared that we were in an ER waiting room? It was Tennessee, and somehow, I’d known from the instant he’d walked in. He didn’t look much like his twelve-year-old self, what with a fuzzy beard and long hair in a neat ponytail and all, but he had the same straw-colored hair and pale-blue eyes with a sharp nose. Same tall, skinny build. My mom would be beside herself, wanting to feed Tennessee up the same as before. I wanted to hear everything he’d been up to, starting with how he injured his arm. It was more than a little funny that we had similar injuries on the same exact day, no less.
Tennessee took his sweet time answering my question. But I remembered his long pauses from the past and was patient without rushing to fill the silence.
“It was a terrible blind date,” he said softly. Too softly. My overprotective hackles went up, and I leaned forward.
“Did someone hurt you?” I demanded. I had plenty of friends on the police force for our small town…but forget an official investigation. I’d handle this one myself. I hadn’t been able to protect Tennessee when we were younger. I hadn’t known how bad things had been for him, a fact that made my chest ache worse than my sore arm. We might not know each other as adults yet, but no way would I let anyone harm him now.
“Chill. Nothing like an attack or something.” Tennessee groaned before shifting in his chair, clearly embarrassed. “This artificial intelligence app promised to find me a soulmate. And I stupidly believed it could.”
“Oh.” My eyes widened. I had a hunch, and honestly, if I hadn’t been so gobsmacked to see Tennessee here in Mount Hope again, I might have guessed sooner. “The CUPID algorithm?”
“You’ve heard of it?” Tennessee studied me closely. Very closely. With anyone else, I might call it a once-over, but Tennessee was too earnest to be truly checking me out.