Page 33 of Swinging for the Deep End

Saxon, sweetie! Did you go tinkle before we left the house?

I don’t put the window down.

I let my son have his moment of feeling cool.

It’s not a shock Saxon loves this vehicle. It’s a total guy vehicle for sure. The dark exterior color and the dark leather on the inside. The massive screen in the dashboard, ready to do everything from help you find a place, to finding the perfect song for the drive. The windows are all tinted, not completely blacked out, but close enough.

Reality sets in as I drive to the gym, knowing I have to deal with my car.

And I have to deal with Cutter Buckley.

I’m sure he’s going to want his vehicle back.

Living in a small town there’s only a few people to call for certain things. Luke Hallows drives the tow truck for his father’s garage. His father Leon fixes anything but foreign cars with too much technology in it. Those are his words. Meaning if you need some modern repairs in a newer vehicle you have to go to the next town over.

I’m not a fan of talking to Luke so much. He must have asked me fifty times to go out on a date. I don’t have to give a single reason to anyone why I won’t date them. With Luke though, it’s a different ballgame. He’s been in an on-again-off-again thing with Kim Dohl since high school. Yes, that was a long time ago, but they go on stretches of being madly in love for weeks, months, and even years. Then they have a horrible breakup and they rush off to sleep with other people only to end up back together.

The moral of the story? I really don’t want to call Luke for help.

Another option is Brian.

Not that he can use his hands for anything mechanical, he can help me find someone to actually help.

But seriously, would there be anything worse than asking your dickhead boss for help?

Plus, I know me. I won’t be able to keep my comments to myself…

You know, Brian, if you paid better, I could buy a new car.

Must be nice to call yourself a ‘director’ and somehow steal six figures from this place… right?

I pull into the back lot where I had escaped from the serial killer. My car still sits there. Quiet and calm. A pain in the ass for sure. I know I should just go get another car but I don’t want to. Decisions like that are difficult when you’re a single mother. As far as I approach life, everything revolves around Saxon and his future.

As his father so lovingly puts it - That kid isn’t getting a sports scholarship. He’s going to be expensive if he goes to college.

Sometimes I wish I could just punch Hunter so hard he forgets about me, about Saxon, and just vanishes to another country and is just gone.

“That’s enough about me,” I say out loud. “Tell me more about you!”

I laugh to myself.

Maybe I’m slowly slipping into a sense of insanity right now.

The fancy SUV turns off with the press of a button.

I climb out and stare at my car.

What if it just needed to rest overnight? What if I just sit in the seat, turn the key and it turns on? That can happen, right?

I open the driver’s door and the first thing I see is a piece of paper on the seat. A folded white piece of paper.

Something from Cutter, perhaps? A handwritten note? A love letter?

I scoff in my head at the little voice and unfold the piece of paper.

It’s from Cutter Buckley for sure, but it is not a handwritten love letter.

It’s an invoice for a battery.

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