Page 89 of Dizzy

Coming back earlier than I thought. Will text when I’m an hour out to let you know if I can get them from school.

Ok.

Remember I’m gonna need you to register P and C for the winter session and both boys are gonna need new cleats. Three hundred should do it. Cash would be better. Send it in the app.

Ok.

School called and Carson has a fever. I need you to pick him up. I’m showing a house. Can you take him to the ped if he needs to go? I’ve got a closing later.

Ok.

It goes on and on. Ok. Ok. Ok.

That woman’s workin’ him like he’s on payroll.

I glance up. He’s watching me, dark eyes hooded. He’s leaning forward on his forearms.

Out of curiosity, I open his pictures. I scroll down, going back months, then years. He has hundreds of pictures of engine parts and motorcycles interspersed with Parker and Carson, generally on their dirt bikes or posing by a vehicle. No women.

Except three pictures. Taken when we went riding. Me.

I’m squatting by a stream, gazing into the distance. The sun’s shining on my face. My eyes are closed.

I hold the screen up to him.

“Why’d you take these?”

He squints and then lifts a shoulder. “You’re beautiful.”

My lower lip quivers. He keeps his gaze trained on me, serious, deliberately calm. He’s listening.

“I don’t wanna be a whore.” I blink back the tears. I’m not gonna cry, wet, cold, and naked in a bathroom.

His face falls. “Baby. You’re not a whore. Is that what she said?”

“If I’m gonna be a whore, I want to at leastdecideto be one.”

“Shit.” He plunges his fingers in his hair. For a second, it looks like he’s gonna come for me, but he must think better of it. “You are not a whore.” He holds out a hand. “Come here.”

He leaves it there, extended, calloused palm up, waiting. “Come on, baby.”

I don’t know what to do.

“Come here.”

“Why?”

“’Cause you belong here. And you know it.”

“How can I know?”

“Am I wrong?” It’s a quiet question. Simple.

He’s not.

I hesitantly reach for him.

His hand envelops mine, and he drags me to stand between his legs. The towel drops. He wraps his strong arms around me and squeezes tight. His beard bristles against my collarbone, and he presses soft kisses in the divot where they meet.

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