Lyra
“Daughter. Are we there yet?”
I smiled to myself. “Not yet, father. But we are close.”
“Close?” He grunted softly and shifted in his seat. “You’ve been saying that for the past hour since we left Blue Ridge, Lyra. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to kidnap me.”
I laughed.
“Wouldn’t be a bad idea, though, maybe then I’d finally get you to rest.”
He scoffed. “Rest? You’ve kept an old man blindfolded for hours, my dear, that’s not rest, that’s just torture.”
The car finally came to a stop. I stepped out and moved to open the back door. “Stop complaining and let me help you out.”
He lifted his chin dramatically. “I can manage.”
“Sure, you can,” I scoffed, putting my hands under his arms. The driver came around to help, too. He brought the wheelchair out and set it
