Page 106 of Lucky
Tomorrow, Winnie Shaw’s going to wake up to an army behind her.
And I hope to God it reminds her just how much she matters, and with that kind of support, she’s got to put herself back out there.
CHAPTER 34
Winnie
Iforce abite of peanut butter toast into my mouth and chew in robotic fashion.I’m not hungry.
Far from it.
But I need nourishment to conquer another day with energetic kindergarteners all while nursing a bruised heart.I open the Uber app and see there are plenty in the area that can take me to the school.No way I’m driving my embarrassment of a vehicle.
There’s a knock on the door and I pause my next bite.It’s loud and insistent enough that Buttermilk bounds into the foyer like he’s going to defend our honor.Or maybe just pee on someone’s shoes.
I drop the toast and wipe my mouth with a paper towel.I’m not in the mood for visitors and besides… it’s too early to be genial.My head is still stuffy from crying on and off throughout the night, and my body feels like it’s been wrung out and left on the porch to dry.
Another knock.
I peek out the small side window expecting to see Lucky—because really, who else would it be—and my heart lurches in anticipation, in dread, in a hundred emotions that haven’t sorted themselves yet.
But it’s not Lucky.
It’s a stranger.A man in a navy work shirt with a patch on the front pocket.He’s holding a clipboard and a ring of keys.
I crack the door open, wary.
“Ms.Shaw?”he asks politely.“I’m here for the car.”
I blink, totally disoriented.“What?”
He gestures toward my driveway where my car sits.“Lucky Branson arranged to have the spray paint damage taken care of.Said you’d have the keys ready.”
I stare at him, speechless.
He consults something on his clipboard.“The plan is full repaint, same color.Quick turnaround.We’ll buff the surrounding panels, clean the interior.He said it’s urgent.”
I nod dumbly, still not believing what I’m hearing.
But I’m not shocked.Of course, Lucky would rush in to help me with this because that’s the type of man he is.
“Your keys, ma’am,” he prods.
“Oh, right… sorry.Hold on.”I nab my purse from the foyer table where I always leave it and fish out my keys.I take the car key off the ring and open the screen door to hand it to the man.“Here you go.”
In exchange, the man offers me a fob.“He also said to let you use this to get around today.”He tilts his head and points to Lucky’s Tahoe, parked half a block down in front of my house.
My chest caves in around my heart.What did I ever do to deserve this man?
I take the keys and whisper, “Thank you.”
He smiles.“You’re welcome.I’ll take good care of it.”
I nod again and shut the door slowly.
Leaning my back against it, I stare at the fob.It belongs to the man I told to leave me alone last night, and who, despite everything, still showed up for me in the quietest, kindest way possible.
There’s no note.No text.No phone call.
