Page 60 of Dahlia Made A List

The closer Dahlia came to the end of her list, the closer I came to having no excuse to be in her life.

“That would be Number Three.”

I rubbed my fist against my sternum. Heartburn from the sandwich or my chest was on fire. “What’s Number Three?”

Grams looked past me into the living room and as if I had no will of my own, my gaze moved to take in Dahlia. She spoke to Vida, her hands flashing and I wished I could see her face. She’d be smiling, her blue-gray eyes bright and more blue in this light.

“I don’t know what Number Three is, actually, Wy. She hasn’t said, so I’m guessing it’s something personal. I could speculate, but that would be rude.”

Something personal. The heat in my chest burned. I reached for my glass of sweet tea and swallowed down several gulps. It didn’t help.

“Waylon’s becoming a pain in my ass, Grams. Gonna need you to keep your promise and sign off on the deal we made. No more foolin’ around.”

She sat back in her chair with a snap. “And since when have I ever failed to keep a promise?”

“Since now,” I growled. “Since this stupid game you started between me and you and Dahlia and the goddamn drive-in.”

She inhaled a long, noisy breath, tilting her head back to stare down her nose at me. I shifted in my seat, stretching my neck first one way and then the other. “Sorry, Grams. Spoke out of line.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she relaxed back into her chair.

“But,” I continued, “we really gotta get this handled. I’m not dealing with Waylon any more than I have to. Hell, all I know, J. T.’s gonna make an appearance and then I really will lose my mind.”

“You spend so much time giving the family your back, you have no idea what you’re even fighting any more. You’re as much a part of this family as Waylon, Jaspar, Miller and the rest. Time you stopped running from us.”

“Hard to run when they showed me the door years ago.”

“Every family has a few bad apples.” She tapped a sharp nail on the table. “What if one of your nieces or nephews can’t read? Your granddad’s not around any more to step in. Are you going to leave them to the mercy of J.T.?”

I darted a look toward the living room, but Dahlia sat in the same place, the back of her pretty head all I could see. “We need to finish our deal, Grams.”

“You get your deed, and then what, Wy?”

“Then I get Waylon and J.T. out of my hair.”

“What about Dahlia?”

The heat burned again, scorching the back of my throat. “What about Dahlia?”

“You’re running out of excuses, boy.”

Another swallow of tea that did nothing to calm the fire raging inside me. “The one has nothing to do with the other. There’s nothing for you to worry about. Like you said, she’s damn near done with her list.”

“Can’t see the forest for the trees. Can you, Wyatt? Like you haven’t learned a thing in all these years. So that’s that, as far as you’re concerned?”

It had to be. Dahlia started her list to figure herself out, to stop wasting her time with men not good enough for her. To get herself on a path with a future, family, kids, the whole nine. She wore her new confidence well and I had no intention of fuckin’ it up for her now.

The burn took over then and I staggered up from the chair. “Forget I was here, Grams. I gotta go.”

Isatintherec center parking lot like a little chicken shit. Inside, Dahlia skated around doing derby things, dressed in her pink leggings and a tank that hugged her tits printed with the Richland Killbillies logo. The ride over here, she’d settled into the passenger side with her nose buried in her phone. The driver’s written exam. The one she wanted me to help her with.

The one I would fuckin’ help her with if I could fuckin’ read.

Through school and beyond, once it hit me that letters and numbers didn’t look the same for me as they did for everyone else and my parents turned away in embarrassment, stubbornness kicked in. I’d be damned if I tried to be whatever they thought I should be.

Only for Granddad did I make any effort. Only enough to get through high school.

Not enough to be of any use to Dahlia now.

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