The room stills because I say it like a confession.
“He will,” Lottie says.
“I told him not to.”
Hot Mama smiles slowly. “Baby, you told a biker not to follow. That’s like telling rain not to get wet.”
My chest aches.
“What happens when he gets here?”
“Depends,” Hot Mama says.
“On what?”
“Whether he comes to fetch you or hear you.”
The difference sits between us.
I hope Derby knows it.
I hope I do.
A bell rings outside, loud and bright.
“Chili,” Tansy says, closing her notebook. “Kids eat first, and if you get between them and cornbread, Shortie makes you weed the meditation garden.”
Maribel lifts the baby. “Again?”
Tansy points at her. “That was one time, and the toddler bit me.”
We head back outside, and the campground has shifted into evening. The sky is purple-gray. Smoke curls from the fire circle. Women move with practiced ease, setting out bowls, spoons, bread, pitchers of tea and water. Kids line up first, messy and loud and watched by every adult on the property. August spots me and waves so hard his whole arm moves.
“Mama! They have chili!”
“I see that.”
“And Princess Chomp has a jail too!”
The girl with purple boots holds up the green dinosaur. “She escaped.”
August looks delighted. “We need a bigger court.”
Hot Mama leans down beside him. “You August?”
He goes quiet at once, staring up at her.
She smiles.
He clutches Blue Rex.
I start to step forward, but Lottie catches my wrist.
Wait.
Hot Mama holds out one red-nailed hand to Blue Rex. “Your mama says you’re a judge.”
August looks at me.