ist
f the truck. I glanced over, checking to make sure my sixteen-year-old son was still breathing, and had to smile
eed him to be pissed at me for anything else. I seemed to be able to piss him off with the sim
ion. The radio had gone in and out, leaving me in silence while he listene
e in Conroe, Texas. My real estate career had turned me onto the area long ago. I had dreamed of retiring to the growing
back deck and sipping sweet tea. Life was unfair. My wife of twenty years had been killed instantl
ife for complete strangers. I had to let go of the anger. The anger had driven me i
use in Minnesota was only making it difficult to move forward. At least for me it was. Olin didn't seem to give a shit one way
b pretending he couldn't. "Olin, I need gas. I'm going to grab somethin
ungry," he
old enough to know if
been a long two days of non-stop driving. I was tired of si
" I asked the young man behind the immac
said and quickly
in front of the Slurpee machine, a bag of chips in his hand. Not hungry
pied as well, not wanting to pressure him to hurry up. The kid was prickly at best, and any littl
her. His thick black hair was all me. He was the perfe
ting the snacks and drinks we had picked up. I smiled at the yo
ith a smile. "Tr
home,"
look like a
ed. "I'
, help you learn how to walk wi
I'm comfortabl
amusement. "How about some of our wor
I sure
rky. I'd be happy to give you a free sample," sh
," Olin said, dropping a pack of gu
e, then Olin, then ba
nd nodded.
for you. I'm sure you w
son who wasn't much younger than her had done the trick. The goodies w
ch. Olin climbed back into the truck, a scowl on his face. "I'm not
mommy for you period, but it would definitely not be
ou making me live here so you ca