Page 30 of Dizzy

The adrenaline is fading, and now my ass is throbbing in earnest. The scratches on my legs hurt, too. I lift myself gingerly to the passenger seat, and I try to prop myself up by shoving my fists under my thighs. When Dizzy swings into the cab, he notices and frowns.

“When we get home, I’ll get you an ice pack. And we’ll clean up your legs.”

“You could say sorry.” I’m feeling a little sorry for myself, to be honest.

I probably shouldn’t bait him, but away from the others—and with the kids for protection—I’m getting my courage back.

“You shouldn’t have run.”

“And what about the other thing?”

He freezes, about to turn the key in the ignition. In the back, Parker and Carson are hollering, fussing at each other over a charging cord.

Dizzy runs his eyes down my body, head to foot. My tummy quivers.

“You hurt?”

I don’t know why I tell the truth. “A little. It’s not too bad.”

His brown eyes darken, and they’re glued to me. World War III is breaking out in the back seat, but he’s one hundred percent focused on me. Reading my face. Scowling at the cuts on my calves. I feel floaty.Good.

Like a first toke or shot, but my brain’s not hazy. It’s chill.

Carson kicks the back of my seat, and I lurch forward.

Faster than I can follow, Dizzy snatches the charging cable and holds it high in the air. The boys fall silent on a dime. He glares at them in the rearview.

“Carson?”

“Sorry, ma’am,” he mutters.

Both boys have their eyes trained on the cable like sharks circling, waiting for the chum.

“Fay-Lee is coming home with us. You two don’t give her no trouble.” He pauses. “Boys?”

“Yes, sir,” they say in unison.

“And if you kick that seat again, you ride in the bed.”

Carson’s eyes light up. Maybe that wasn’t quite the threat he intended.

“You boys understand?”

They mumble vague agreement and shoot me grudging looks as their dad shoves the cord in the glove box and shifts into first. Parker’s got his arms crossed and his chin high like a forty-year-old woman unhappy with her landscaping. Carson is very quietly—and very sneakily—kicking the back of my seat. Whenever Dizzy scans the rearview, he freezes. Comically, and very obviously.

He’d be busted if his dad didn’t have his eyes glued on me every second he’s not watching the road.

I glance in the rearview mirror to avoid his gaze. It makes me squirm. I don’t know what to make of it.

Parker’s busy shooting me a dirty look. He must blame me that he got his cord taken away.

Hah. No one in my house had a phone before they could pay for it themselves. The little ones were always grubbing mine, getting the screen all greasy and sticky.Aunt Fay, lemme play the candy game.

A tiny bud of homesickness unfurls in my chest. I hope their mamas are takin’ good care of them. Carol’s probably stepped up. She’s already got two jobs, but she’s got the most sense of any of us.

It wasn’t exactly my job to look after the kids. Sure as shit, no one paid me to do it. It was just that if I didn’t, no one did. And I tended to be home since the only steady work I ever managed to find was second shift at the Gas-and-Go.

I didn’twantto leave the little guys, but there were too many for me to look after properly, and since I could always be relied upon to step up, nothing was stopping their mamas from having more.

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