Page 109 of Double Bucked

She lifts her swan neck to glance over her shoulder at me.

“Can you keep your hands to yourself?” she asks me.

Her hair shivers in the wake of my exhale.

“Let’s find out.”

Across the bed, Ransom’s eyes catch on mine.

I hold his eye contact as I kiss Claire’s shoulder.

“G’night, crazy kids,” he says.

He reaches over and turns out the light, swathing all three of us in darkness.

35

CLAIRE

The morning breaks over the bed like warm yolk, spilling bright sunshine over the cream duvet. I should be hungover. Thick-throated, head-pounding, ugly hangover. Instead, I feel better than I should.

Better than I deserve.

Two million. That number keeps pounding through my head.

Not a lot of people have a quantifiable number for their father’s love. Two million. That’s not bad, right? A decent sum?

He might as well have said zero.

Just when I thought he couldn’t hurt me anymore, his ghost haunts me. Twisting the knife. Reminding me that I’m nothing but a decorated show pony, bred and trained to perform for everyone else’s enjoyment.

I want to stay in bed. I want to drink until my liver gives out. I want to rub all my fine breeding in his face.

Look at your prize mare now, Daddy.

I yank the covers up my shoulders to burrow deeper into the bed, but when I kick my leg out, my foot hits something warm and solid.

“Ow! Watch the tootsies, princess.”

Ransom’s voice sounds like it’s coming from…the foot of the bed?

I prop up on my elbow. “What are you doing?”

Everett, still beside me, wakes up at our commotion and sits up.

Ransom is lying with his head at the foot of the bed, his feet up by my face. His hair sticks out at odd angles. He rubs his face where I, no doubt, kicked him. Somewhere between sleepy and grumpy, he complains, “You snore! He grinds his teeth! It’s like sleeping with the damn circus!”

Everett frowns. “I like her snores. It lets me know she hasn’t died in her sleep.”

Ransom throws up his hands. “Y’all need Jesus.”

I can’t help it. A laugh bubbles up from inside of me. A real, genuine, what-the-hell-is-my-life? laugh that builds in my chest and comes pouring out my mouth until my eyes are stinging and I’m wheezing for breath.

I don’t think I’ve laughed since I’ve gotten here. It feels good.

Ransom and Everett make me feel good. Even when the rest of the world is collapsing around me.

I pull up my legs so I can scoot halfway down the bed. I cup Ransom’s jaw and rub his rough stubble underneath the pad of my thumb.

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