Cherishing You
Authors: JoRae Andrews
Cherishing You
Text copyright ©2016 JoRae Andrews
All Rights Reserved
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized by, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
To any person who thinks they aren’t smart enough,
or are too nervous to follow your dreams:
Do it anyways!!!
“Great, just great! This is
so
not what I need right now!” I scream as I bang my hands against the steering wheel. Taking a deep breath, I look out the windshield; I can see the humidity in the air. Stepping out of the car, I see the rolling white steam from under the hood, a pretty good indicator that I’m going to be here for a while. “Stupid car,” I mutter to myself.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I swipe the screen. “Fantastic, no freaking service. Can this day get any worse?” I take off walking and, luckily, only a few feet in front of where my car decided to take its last breath I have one bar of service. “Please let that be enough.” I tap the screen a few times, pulling up Dad’s contact info, and hit Send.
“Ron’s Auto,” he answers.
“Dad, it’s Andi.” I wait for a reply, but all I can hear is his deep voice surrounded by static.
“Dad? Dad, can you hear me?” I’m practically screaming into the phone. The static grows louder and then silence.
Shit!
Walking back to my car, I kick the tire in frustration. I’ve been here for almost twenty minutes and not a single car has passed. I glare at the phone in my hand. What is the use of paying for the stupid thing if it’s not going to work when I need it? I’m stranded, it’s hot, and I’m not exactly thrilled to be on the outskirts of my hometown. Since the day I left for college, my visits have been . . . well, they
haven’t
been, actually. Being here hurt, and it was easier to immerse myself in school and stay away rather than risk running into him.
Now here I am.
As if my phone can feel my anger, it rings in my hand.
Dad.
“Hello,” I answer hesitantly, not wanting to get my hopes up that the service will last.
“Honey, where are you?” I can hear the concern in his voice.
“I’m stuck on the side of the road, about five miles outside of town. I think it’s the radiator.”
“Oh, no! Okay, honey, I’ll take care of it. Just sit tight,” I hear him say just as the static starts taking over again.
Humph! As if I have much choice!