Daybreak in Sandbridge by Elizabeth L. Brooks

Author:Elizabeth L. Brooks [Townsend, Elizabeth L. Brooks and Lynn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JMS Books LLC
Published: 2018-06-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Despite all the unfinished business left in New York, Scooter still had a business to run, so he and Andy went home to Virginia the next day. Thanks to the late booking and one overbooked flight, they didn’t make it home until well after midnight. So when the delivery driver knocked on the door at nine the following morning, Andy found himself squinting suspiciously into the too-bright sunlight. How the hell had the boxes caught up with them so fast? Trick question: of course his mother had paid for expedited next-morning delivery. He leaned to look past the driver and over the walkway railing, where there were ten more boxes stacked next to the truck. Fuuuuuuck.

“Ugh,” he complained, and signed the tablet the driver was holding out for him. “Let me put on some pants and I’ll help you bring them up.”

Twelve. Twelve boxes of Andy’s old crap that Eleanor hadn’t been able to wait to send him. Jesus. His room had stood untouched for seven years, it wasn’t like a few more weeks would make a difference. What even the hell, Mom?

At least he didn’t have to worry about his mother succumbing to Wes’s trickery and bullying; he’d seen her safely installed in the Spruce’s guest suite, and dropped a word of warning in Mrs. Spruce’s ear. Mrs. Spruce had no problem facing down her husband, so she certainly wasn’t about to let anyone bother Eleanor.

Andy helped the driver stack the boxes in the living room, and then stood there long after the guy was gone, eyeing the boxes with distaste. It had been almost a decade since he’d seen any of that stuff; he really didn’t need it. It was tempting to just chuck it all in the Dumpster, but he was aware enough to accept that after he’d finished catching up on sleep, he might want to keep at least some of it. He scrubbed a hand over his face with a groan.

“Later,” he decided, and shoved them back against the sofa so he and Scooter wouldn’t trip over them. They were going to have a lot of catch-up to do after spending ten days in New York. Scooter had been up at the crack of dawn despite the late night, and was already downstairs working. Andy’s teenage crap was way down at the bottom of the priority list.

As if in agreement, the timer on the coffee pot kicked on in the kitchen. Andy groaned and went into the bathroom to make himself more presentable.

The coffee was done by the time he was dressed, thank God. He pulled two mugs out of the cabinet, added a splash of milk and a spoonful of sugar to Scooter’s, and filled them both.

When he carried the mugs into Scooter’s office a few minutes later, he found Scooter already looking frazzled. “Hey, babe. Coffee?”

“If it’s laced with strychnine, I’ll take it.” Scooter ran both hands through his hair and pulled like he wanted to yank it out, and then took a few deep breaths.

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