“Good, because I can’t think of any other man I would trust you with besides Joe. So do what you need to do and come home.”
“I will.” Then I remembered one other issue. “What are you going to tell Joe?”
“What do you want me to tell him?”
I knew she wouldn’t want to lie. “Just tell him I had to go take care of some Rivers family business . . . which is true. Say that I took off and you didn’t know I was leaving until after I left.”
“He’ll probably call you.”
“I know. I’ll talk to him.”
“Good. He cares about you too.”
“I know. Now I have to go.”
I hung up and put the phone on the table.
“You okay?” Jed asked.
I nodded and picked up my fork.
Silence hung over the table for several minutes before Jed broke it with a question. “How long did you live in Ardmore?”
This seemed harmless enough to answer. “I’m not sure about the first time. We probably moved there when I was five or six and stayed until I went to live with my grandmother when I was twelve. The second time . . . nearly two years.”
“You moved back after you graduated from high school?”
I nodded.
“Why?”
I considered not answering, but in the scheme of things, this one seemed harmless enough too. “I kind of got lost with the whole Rivers family. They’re this big, loud, overwhelming group, and I felt like I could never get my footing. I needed to go somewhere I felt like me.”
“And you went to find your mother.”
I nodded. “But she was gone, of course.”
“Yet you stayed.”
I wasn’t sure how to explain. “You’ve lived in the same place your entire life. You know what it’s like to feel like you belong somewhere. I’ve never had that. Not until Rose.”
“Not even with Ronnie?”
I shook my head. “No.”
We fell into silence again and finished our dinner. Jed flagged down the waiter so we could pay our bill. I insisted on paying for my half of the meal. It was bad enough he’d put his life on hold—and gotten fired to boot. I didn’t really understand why he was doing so much for me, but I didn’t want to owe him any more than I already did.
We walked across the parking lot, and when we reached his car, I turned to face him before he could open the door for me. “I’m still trying to figure out why you’re here with me.”
“I told you.”
“No. Not really.” I wasn’t buying that he didn’t know. I suspected he was still hoping to get laid. “Are you coming with me in the hopes I’ll change my mind? You’ll exchange . . . what? Support? Driving me around? Paying for my bus ticket for sex?”
His eyes darkened. “Let’s get something clear right now.” His voice was so hard I nearly jumped.
“What?” I asked with a defiant look.
“You are not a whore. You will not be bought, by me or anyone else. Have I made myself clear?”