Chapter 9The next day, I went to pick up Mr. Cross at the hospital and drive him home. A faulty delivery and a no-show employee had messed up Asher’s afternoon, making him stressed and irritated. He’d run around, doing his best to be everywhere at once and still finish in time for him to pick up his father, but I’d known it wasn’t going to happen.
So I’d pulled him to the side, asked for the car keys, and told him I’d take care of Pops.
At first, he’d been reluctant, not wanting to subject me to his father’s grumpiness, but a loud crash coming from somewhere in the back had silenced his objections. He’d handed over the keys with eyes full of gratitude.
I hadn’t been waiting long when Mr. Cross emerged from the hospital in a wheelchair, accompanied by the nurse driving him. I jumped out
