Page 15 of Dizzy

I hop into the truck and give ‘em a smile. “How about we stop for pizza?”

The mood instantly lifts. I crank the tunes, and Carson starts tellin’ me about how he shimmied all the way up the flagpole at school before the principal caught him.

I wonder if the guys have found Goldilocks.

My heart still kicks up a notch at the thought, but there’s a taint to the excitement now.

In case I forgot, life ain’t a fairy tale. Goldilocks don’t sneak in your room to rock your world.

More likely than not, the princess is sick of you, and you ain’t the prince. You’re the fuckin’ dancing candlestick.

“Hey, Dad. Can we ride dirt bikes tomorrow?” Parker pipes up from the back seat.

That’s my boy. “Hell, yeah.”

Life ain’t so bad, either. I got my boys in the back,Rockyon Blu-ray, and a fresh memory to keep me warm when I pass out alone in my bed later tonight. In the meantime, we’ll drop by the clubhouse, and the boys can play their video games while I go for round two on my little mouse hunt.

I spend the rest of the drive tryin’ not to think about what I’ll do when I catch her.

3

FAY-LEE

Ididn’t go back to the clubhouse last night. I could hear the bass beat all the way at my makeshift camp, and smell the smoke from the bonfire, but something told me not to press my luck.

So I got shitfaced under a pine tree to keep warm. Even drunk, I was bored as shit. No phone. No TV. I curled up to conserve heat and renamed the constellations after characters fromIn the Arms of Love, my favorite soap.

A lot of people think there aren’t any soaps on anymore, but that’s not true. There’s five of them still running, butIn the Arms of Loveis my favorite. It’s set in Manhattan. That’s what gave me the idea of heading that way.

I’m not naïve. I’m not trying to make it on Broadway or anything. I can’t sing worth shit. I just figured I want the opposite of Dalton, Kentucky. It doesn’t get more different than New York City, so I imagine.

Honestly, I didn’t have much of a plan when I left. After the shed incident, I left as soon as I could.

Pure spite fueled me for the first few days, even though I was so physically weak after the hospital that I couldn’t manage to walk more than a few miles a day at first. I finally cooled down halfway through West Virginia.

Wish I could summon up that rage again now. It’s mid-morning, but I’m still numb with cold. The flannel helps, but when the wind gusts up, it has a wicked bite. I wrap the shirt tighter, hold the collar to my nose, and inhale. Whiskey and motor oil.

My cheeks burn. I can’t believe I did that—what he asked me to do. I’m no virgin. Rylan Dorset sweet-talked me out of my V-card the summer after ninth grade. But I have four sisters with nine kids and no husbands between them. Men lost their shine for me about the same time as my youngest sister brought home her third baby.

I know better than to fall for male bullshit. Most men leave you worse than they found you, that’s the long and short of it. It’s like the opposite of taking only pictures, leaving only footprints. They take only whatever they want, leave when you need them most.

I’m sure there’re good men out there. In real life, Luke Lamore fromIn the Arms of Lovehelps rehome pets when their elderly owners pass. Still. It’s beyond foolish to sit around waitin’ for a man to rescue you.

I should go for a walk, get the blood flowing. It’s a damn miracle I didn’t freeze to death when I passed out last night. The blanket didn’t do much. Too thin. I stand, flick off the pine needles stickin’ to my thighs, and head in a direction away from the clubhouse, deeper into the woods.

The quiet is strange. I’ve never been alone before in my life. I can appreciate the beauty, but it creeps me the fuck out.

Truth is, I might be getting a little homesick. Not for the people. Screw them. But for a place to be where all I’ve got are my old, familiar problems.

In retrospect, I might have gone off half-cocked. What happened with the shed was an accident after all.

A suffocating feeling seizes my chest. I wiggle my fingers, reassure myself. My nails have grown back. I’m alive. No permanent harm done.

I stomp my feet, jog a few feet, shake out my arms. Fight through the residual panic.

Anyway, home wasn’t perfect—not by far—but at least I had a room, even if I had to share, and we had electric most months. I had a bed, and when the heat got turned off, nieces and nephews would always end up crawling in for body heat, and it’d be cozy, if crowded and stinky.

I can’t believe Chaos just took off, no word. I should have kept an eye on him. A name like that—I can’t say I wasn’t warned. He seemed pretty steady, though. Didn’t drink much. Spent a lot of time texting on his phone.

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