Page 96 of Dirty Pucker

His expression twists in pain. He lets out a shaky breath as he taps his thumb on the screen of his phone with one hand and grabs his boxer briefs with the other. He quickly yanks them on.

“Mom? Are you okay? What happened?”

He listens quietly while getting dressed.

He stares straight ahead, a stony look on his face. “You’re sure he’s not there? You’re positive?” He exhales. “Okay. I’m on my way to you right now. If you hear anything else, call the police, okay?” He pauses. “Mom, I don’t care. Promise me that if you hear another weird sound, you’ll call the police. Promise me.”

My heart sinks at the pleading in Del’s hard tone. I don’t know what’s going on, but clearly this is serious and his mom might be in danger.

“I love you, too.” He hangs up and looks at me. “I-I’m sorry. I have to go.”

“Of course.” I stand up, grab my dress from the floor, and pull it on. “What happened? Is your mom okay?”

“I think so. There was a break-in at her house.”

“Oh my god.”

“It was my dad.”

I go quiet. I remember Dakota mentioning before that their parents weren’t together anymore and that they didn’t talk to their dad. I didn’t think much of it at the time.

The fact that Del is close with his mom and sister, but not his dad, must mean that his dad must have done something terrible to them.

I mean, clearly he’s not a good guy. He just tried to break into his ex-wife’s house.

An awful thought lands in my brain: maybe his dad is abusive.

Before I can think more about it, Del turns and jogs out of my bedroom. I follow him to the front door. He slips on his sneakers.

I watch him. His eyes are dazed and heavy. He looks so lost and freaked out that it makes my chest ache.

I grab his hand. “Del, wait. You can’t drive like this. You’re too upset.”

He starts to say he’s fine, but I stop him.

I cup his face in my hands, steadying him. “Let me drive you to your mom’s.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but I stop.

“Let me help you, Del. Please?”

Intensity flashes in his coffee-hued eyes. “Okay. Thank you,” he finally says.

I grab my purse from the entryway table and slip on a pair of flats, then grab Del’s hand and lead him out to my attached garage. Ten seconds later, we’re on the road.

Del gives me directions to his mom’s house. I merge onto the freeway and he calls his mom.

“I just want to have her on the phone with me until we get to her place,” he says to me.

“Absolutely. I completely understand.”

He turns to me and grabs my hand in his. I give him a gentle squeeze, hoping it’s the tiniest bit of comfort during such a horrible moment.

Del’s mom answers and they talk during the drive. After a few minutes, he tells me which exit to take. I drive through an industrial part of the city and end up in a quiet neighborhood with a bunch of cute older houses.

“It’s the white one on the right.” He points ahead. I pull into the driveway.

“I’m here, Mom.” He hangs up and he hops out before I even put the car in park. He jogs up the porch stairs. I turn off the engine and go after him.

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