Read Made of Stars for Free Online Page B

breakfast.
    Hunter is halfway through devouring his food, and mine sits on the table, untouched. Isobel must have been by early this morning to check on Dad and cook breakfast. Really, a nurse isn’t needed for Dad anymore. A fact he glosses over when I’ve asked him why he and Isobel still spend so much time together.
    Not that it’s a bad thing. At all. I adore Isobel, and it made me feel less worried being away from Dad so much for two years knowing someone was at his side, taking good care of him.
    “They keeping you busy at that shop?” Dad asks.
    I sink into my chair. “Sure. It’s getting close to Christmas, so there’s plenty to do.” Not that our town has a crapload of business, but we’re never left idle.
    The back door creaks open. I hear Chance stomping his feet on the welcome mat before venturing inside, greeting us with a smile. “ Hola , neighbors. Morning, Mr. J.”
    Dad gives a nod of his head. “More food on the stove. Help yourself.”
    As though Chance needs to be told twice. He snatches the remaining strips of bacon and at least tries to display some semblance of manners as he wolfs them down. You would think his parents never feed him.
    Though after seeing his house that day and meeting his mom, one has to wonder. Mrs. Harvey didn’t exactly strike me as the always-traveling-with-a-well-paying-job sort of mom like Chance told us she was.
    “Have you thought about getting yourself a job, too, Chance?” Dad asks. “Maybe one of these two could get you a position at their places.”
    Hunter snorts and nearly chokes on his milk. I bite back a grin as Chance shoots him an offended scowl. “I don’t think Lotsa Books or Pappy’s Groceries are really the kind of jobs Chance would enjoy,” I say.
    Chance shoves another piece of bacon into his mouth. “Why not? I could do it. I can lift stuff.”
    “And talk to customers?” Hunter asks.
    “And talk to customers. Sure. I love people!”
    Liar, liar. Chance thinks most people in this town are dull and idiotic. Can’t say I blame him, especially after having interacted with so many of them at work. But he can be perfectly charming when he wants to be.
    “He wouldn’t always have a way to get there,” Hunt points out. “We’re already struggling with one car between Ash and me.”
    Chance slouches into the seat beside me, munching away. “I don’t know. Maybe that car out front is for me.”
    Hunter lowers his fork. He and I exchange glances before looking to Dad. In unison: “Car?”
    Dad heaves a dramatic sigh. “Guess the cat’s out of the bag.” He pulls a set of keys from his pocket and slides them across the table. They come to a halt after clinking against my plate. I stare down at them, fascinated.
    “Car?” Hunter repeats, equally in awe.
    “Figured you two needed something of your own to get around in. And cramming all three of you into the Toyota’s a bit of a tight fit, isn’t it?”
    It is, though we’ve never complained. Sometimes, Chance likes to ride in back, standing up at red lights and pounding on the roof in (what he insists is) Morse code. We won’t mention that to Dad.
    “Nothing special or pretty.” Dad shoves his chair back, grabs his cane, and rises to his feet with a grunt. “You gonna go have a look or what?”
    Hunter and I scramble out of our seats to dash outside. Chance does, too, but only after snatching the bacon off my plate.
    Dad’s right about the car not being pretty. It’s probably as old as we are, and the blue paint is chipping in spots. But the tires look brand-new and, as we peer inside, I can tell the interior has been recently redone. It’s big enough to hold all of us, but it isn’t a monster like the truck. I might actually be able to drive it without wanting to close my eyes every time I make a turn.
    While Hunt starts it up, I throw my arms around Dad—delicately, of course—and hug him. “You really didn’t have to do this, but thank you.”
    He actually smiles . A