I push him away from me. “No, I want to talk.”
His gaze bounces over mine. “Okay.”
He slides back in his seat, and that’s what I do. I tell him about what happened when I got home that day. How I found Peanut on the ground. How I talked to my mom and his. How Mr. Johnson tricked me into coming back. And then we talk about everything else. From our hopes and dreams to our fears and worries.
We’re holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes at the end of the night when Wolfe turns the back lights off.
I giggle. “I think we’re about to be kicked out.”
Rage rolls his eyes. “I’m the fucking president. Ain’t no one kicking me anywhere.”
Wolfe walks over to us. “Time for you youngins to get on home. Bar’s closed.” He winks at me.
An image of Wolfe standing over me at the hospital pops into my mind. “Oh, wait!” I hold my finger up. “I almost forgot. You told me at the hospital I needed to come back because I still owed you for the drink.” I dig through my purse, my hand pausing over the ten-dollar bill Mr. Johnson gave me the last time I saw him alive.
“You were unconscious when I told you that,” Wolfe says, falling into the seat across from us.
Rage leans forward. “You heard him?”
I smile wide. “Yeah. I saw both of you. He was standing by my bed, touching my hair, and you were sitting behind him.”
I hand the bill over to Wolfe. This is a reminder from the other side that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Wolfe takes it from me with a shaky hand, and the two of them look at each other.
“I think I’m ready to go home now.”
They jump to their feet before I change my mind.
“I’ll follow you guys out, so I can pick up my wife. Shelly says Mila’s been asleep for a few hours,” Wolfe says, leaning against my window as Rage rounds the truck. He flicks the ten he’s still holding in his hand. “Why don’t you hold on to this? I got the message loud and clear. Keep it for the next person.”
I hesitantly take it from him. “So, you believe me.”
“Should of never doubted you to begin with.” He taps the end of my nose.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Rage
Serenity is quiet on the drive home.
“We should have left sooner. You’re tired.”
“I’m good,” she assures me, but when we pull into the driveway, I see she’s anything but.
Shelly comes out of the house and stops by my window. “It’s good to see you, girlie,” she says, pointing at Serenity. Her attention shifts back to me when she sees she’s pale as a ghost. “You want us to take Mila home with us, honey?”
“Naw, we’ll be alright.”
Her mouth turns down in concern. “You’ll call?”
“You know it.”
She leans in to give me a hug. “You let this boy take care of you,” she tells Serenity. She doesn’t get a response from her, but I don’t think she was expecting one.
“We should get inside,” I say as they’re pulling away.
Her head snaps my direction as if she’s just realized I’m still in the truck with her. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Mila’s inside,” she reminds herself.