Page 27 of Trailer Trash

“Better now,” I said. It felt like we’d made our visit to the psych ward several days ago, not earlier that afternoon. “I was stupid to think she would tell me anything, but I had to try.”

“Do you think she knows everything, or is there a chance she’s guessing?”

I considered ignoring his question, but I didn’t get the impression he was trying to fit the puzzle pieces of my life together. More like he was asking out of concern for me. “She definitely knows more than I would like. If she went to Ardmore and started snooping into my life, Beasley wouldn’t be too difficult to figure out.”

“Is he one of the people you need to talk to about the azaleas?”

My eyes narrowed. “Why do you think I need to talk to anyone about the azaleas?”

“Because you’re ashamed of what it signifies. You need to know what Kate knows so you can do damage control. The best way to do that is to figure out who she—or the person she hired to look into you—talked to.”

“Why are you helping me?”

He gave me a half-shrug and half-grin. “I needed a vacation.”

“I’m serious, Jed,” I said, leaning forward. “Why are you doing this?”

He shifted in his seat. “The honest to God truth, Neely Kate, is that I don’t know. I’ve been asking myself that very question since I bought those tickets and got on the bus with you.”

“Did Skeeter tell you to tag along with me?”

He released a bitter laugh. “No. The opposite, in fact.”

My eyebrows shot up. “He wants you to come back? What about me?”

“The conversation devolved before we got around to you.”

“What happened?”

He looked like he was weighing his words before he said, “I suspect people have fed you bullshit most of your life, and I don’t want to be one of those people, so I’ll tell you even at the risk of scaring you off.”

My pulse picked up. “Okay.”

“Skeeter gave me an ultimatum. Either turn around and go back or not come back at all.”

“He fired you?” I asked in dismay and disbelief.

“Yeah.”

“You got fired for helping me, and you don’t even know why you’re doing it?” He was right. It sounded fishy as hell.

“He’ll change his mind,” he said, sounding bitter. “He always does.”

I blinked in surprise. “How many times has he fired you?”

“Maybe one too many.”

That answer worried me, prompting me to say, “You still haven’t explained why you risked Skeeter’s wrath to help me.”

He picked up a sugar packet and began to turn it in his hand. “Let’s say I really wanted that vacation.”

“A permanent one.”

He shrugged. “I’ve never had a vacation before. Maybe we should head to Florida when we finish in Ardmore.”

“We?”

“Why not? You’re not sure if you’re going back to Fenton County—”

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