“You just said you weren’t offering me the couch.”
“I’m offering me the couch.”
“Is it comfortable?”
“No.”
“Then why would you sleep there?”
“Because I’m noble as shit.”
“Language,” I say.
August says, “Noble as ship.”
Sophie turns away, shoulders shaking.
Derby closes his eyes. “See? I’m teaching vocabulary.”
I rub my forehead. “This is a terrible idea.”
“Probably,” Derby says.
“Then why are we doing it?”
His eyes meet mine.
For a second, the room goes too quiet.
“Because it’s the best bad idea we got.”
I don’t want that to make sense.
It does.
Sophie gives me time. She doesn’t push. Derby, to his credit, doesn’t either. August eats the last of his eggs and starts making Blue Rex stomp across the blanket, whispering about bad guys and cereal. The morning light creeps along the floor, pale and gray. Downstairs, a man laughs, then someone tells him to shut up because the kid is awake.
The clubhouse is trying.
That almost hurts more than if it was not.
I look at Sophie. “If I say yes, I need my own way to leave.”
Derby’s looks serious.
Sophie nods. “Good.”
Derby looks at her. “Good?”
“Yes. She needs an exit that belongs to her.”
I keep going before I lose my nerve. “My truck needs to be fixed or I need keys to something.”
Derby says, “Your truck needs a tire, a prayer, and maybe an exorcism.”
“My truck is all I have.”
His expression changes.