Page 69 of Sizzle

I clear my throat, breaking eye contact before she can see the damn hearts popping up around my head. I’m such a fucking goner.

“So, where are we headed? Back to your dad’s, I guess. Unless there’s somewhere you want to stop?” It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask her to come back with me, but it might be too soon for that. I’m focused on pulling out of the snowy parking lot so it doesn’t register right away that she takes too long to answer the question.

“Yeah, please.”

“What’s wrong?”

“He kicked me out this morning,” she says.

“What?” She flinches at the volume. “Sorry. Jesus, Joelle. What happened?” A thought occurs to me and I feel the blood drain from my face. “Surely it’s not because we… because last night we—”

“No! No,” she says fast. She’s blushing again. “It wasn’t that.”

Now that we’re on the road, I take her hand, give it a gentle squeeze, and wait.

“We had a fight,” she says. “I told him I think he needs to start being more independent. He didn’t take it well.”

“Well, what’s wrong with that? I know he was injured, but you said his therapy’s been going great.”

“It has been,” she says, staring out the window. “That was my point too. There’s no reason for me to keep—for him to keep…”

“For him to keep relying on you, you mean?”

She turns to look at me.

“How did you know?”

“Lucky guess,” I say, glancing over to smile at her. “Joelle, you’re one of the most competent people I’ve ever met. Given how old you were when your dad got hurt, I’m guessing you learned self-reliance at a pretty early age.”

“I guess. We had to eat.”

She’s trying to make a joke of it but pity tugs at my heart for that sixteen-year-old girl. Instead of worrying about math tests and college applications and boys and makeup, she’d had to figure out a way to take care of herself and a disabled parent. I can’t even imagine how difficult that must have been for her. Her father too, for that matter.

“What did your dad say?”

She sighs. “He thinks I’m ungrateful. Unreasonable, too, probably. Maybe I’m pushing too much, too soon.”

“Maybe,” I say slowly. “Or maybe he’s afraid.”

“Of what?”

I shrug, turning into her neighborhood.

“When enough people tell you you’re damaged, it starts to sound like the truth,” I say. I feel the full weight of her gaze, and the questions there. “I’m just saying. He’s had a lot to overcome. From what you’ve told me, he’s made a lot of progress. Maybe he just doesn’t see it that way yet.”

I can tell she’s about to ask me what the hell I’m talking about and as I’m not keen on having that conversation right now, I ask the question that’s been on my mind the last thirty minutes.

“Did you talk to Elliot today?”

Her energy changes instantly.

Shit.

“Damn it. What happened? What did he do?”

Joelle crosses her arms and stares straight ahead.

“He made it clear that we’re not to be fooling around at work,” she says, her expression stony.

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