Page 30 of The Ex Puck Bunny
My brother casts him a slightly raised eyebrow as if to ask how he knew the 4Runner broke down.
I answer, “It’s in the shop. Bad fuel pump. I’m driving Dad’s old Dodge.”
“Are you serious? They let you drive Bunny in that death trap?” Derek asks, appalled.
I shrug. “Mom needed the car to go to bowling league.”
“I keep telling Dad I’ll help him fix it up.”
“When exactly do you plan to do that, Derek? As it is, you’re swamped with work and look after Bunny twice a week. Thank you by the way. When I see a yellow light, I just featherthe clutch real easy and hope the cops don’t notice when I don’t come to a complete stop.”
My brother shakes his head.
“You can take my truck,” Grady says.
This time we both look at him.
I wave my hands, declining the offer. “That’s fine I?—”
“No, seriously. I’ll bring the Dodge back to your Dad’s. I’ve been wanting to say hi to your parents.” He wears a strange, sad smile that quickly disappears.
“Bunny won’t even be in the vehicle with me,” I protest.
Derek flares his nostrils. “Take Grady’s truck. I’d let you drive mine, but after you crashed Lucky Lady Lucy, I vowed never to let you behind the wheel again. I keep my promises.”
I roll my eyes because he’ll never let go of the time that I grazed a snowbank with the truck he’d saved up for in high school and gave such a stupid name. It was hardly a scratch. Not even a dent. Much. Like, no one would’ve noticed if we rubbed some car polish or something on it.
My brother claps his hands together as if having a brainwave. Bunny copies him as I scoop her into my arms to say goodbye.
Derek says, “I got it. You take Grady’s truck and when you get back, you can give him some pointers for his social media gig, thing, whatever it is.”
“You do know that I’ve been up since six, worked a full shift, and am about to go stand in a freezing rink for several more hours, right?”
“Yeah. That’s life, kid.” Derek ever so gently slugs me in the arm.
Bunny makes a tiny fist and, as before, copies him.
I squint at him. “No sympathy? No, let me help, sis?”
He takes Bunny into his arms and shows her how to fist bump. “I am helping,aren’t I?”
I point at my brother. “If I wake up with a black eye, that’s on you.”
“Your daughter is not going to punch you, but I will teach her how to throw a right hook. Thumb outside the fingers and—” He demonstrates.
I stop listening because the comment reminds me that Bunny doesn’t have a dad. Technically, she has a father, but not one who wants to be part of our lives. A dad is different and as great a role as my brother and the legendary Ed Rice play in my daughter’s life, it’s not the same.
Grady dangles the key fob of his Silverado out for me to take. “Gas tank is full.”
“I can’t take your truck.”
“I won’t be there to give you a ride home again, so to play it safe?—”
Whatever nonsense Derek was spewing in the background goes quiet. “You didn’t mention Grady gave you a ride the other day.”
“It wasn’t relevant.” I shrug and my cheeks heat so I pick up a napkin from the floor, hoping that’ll keep the blood from rushing to my face. Of course, it does the opposite.
My brother grunts. Before I have a chance to wonder why that seems to bother him, Bunny makes a grunting sound that turns into a snort and the two of them devolve into laughter.
