Page 111 of Hot Shot

Which means I’m about to be in the deepest of shit.

Tears well up in my eyes, and I grip the wheel harder. Because what can I possibly do about it? Very little, short of leaving Wilder and Cricket, which I’d rather die than do. I don’t want to burden my friends or family. I don’t even want to burden Wilder. Which is probably part of the problem.

You’re empty, rings Davis’s words. For ten years, I filled up my life with him, despite having always felt like me. But I’d been cut off from my friends, my family, my career.

I was empty for him because he poured me out first.

But at least that all fit. This new life is messy and spilling and splattering.

A tear makes it past my defenses, and I’m thankful it’s on the cheek Cricket can’t see.

Is this what motherhood is like? Surely it’s only this bad because I’m new to it. Surely all moms don’t feel this way. Do they?

A question for my mother.

Cricket is still talking, but the cool trail on my cheek starts to tingle, and I swipe at it discreetly.

I thought.

Cricket goes silent. “Are you crying, Cassie?”

The question makes it so much worse, but I wrangle my emotions well enough to sort of smile and say, “I’m okay, bug.” But I can’t look at her, certain that if I do, the cry is gonna be ugly after building up all week. Month. Months?

I sigh, grappling for a topic to divert her when the pungent smell of burning rubber rises. The check engine light flashes a bunch of times in succession, and I note the temperature gauge reads somewhere in the depths of hell.

“Shit,” I hiss, pulling over into the grocery store parking lot and killing the engine just as smoke begins to rise from the hood. Panic fires me into action. I grab Cricket and my phone and hurry out of the car. But at a distance, I can see it’s not smoking anymore.

“I bet it’s the radiator,” I say to no one.

“What’s a radiator?”

“It helps keep the engine cool. I need to go check it.”

I only get a step away from her when she wails, grabbing my hand. She nearly drops her weight to stop me. When I look down at her, she’s so scared that it scares me.

The fire.

“Oh, baby.” My voice wavers and I drop to my knees, pulling her into my arms. She’s sobbing, noisy and hard, but I hang onto her until the asphalt digging into my knees can’t be ignored. I sit instead, pulling her into my lap. It’s not until she finally slows to hitched breaths and hiccups that I can breathe.

“Let’s call Daddy, ‘kay?”

I feel her nod against my chest. She doesn’t speak.

I fumble for my phone and call him.

“Hey,” he answers, and I can hear him smiling.

“Hey.”

Instantly, his voice drops. “What’s wrong?”

“Truck broke down. Could you come get us? We’re in the Kroger parking lot.”

“Again?” he says on a sigh. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute. You okay?”

“Yeah.”

A pause. “I’m gonna ask you that again later and you’re gonna tell me the truth, okay?”

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