He’ll either come correct or Hot Mama will feed him his own boots.
Derby came correct.
That makes my answer harder.
“No,” I whisper.
Something moves across his face. Pain first. Then relief so raw it looks like rage trying to behave.
August exhales like he has been holding his breath for both of us. “Good. Because Derby brought Widowmaker, and Princess Chomp needs to see her.”
A laugh breaks out of me.
It’s wet and not pretty, but it’s real.
Derby looks down at him. “Princess Chomp ain’t getting on my bike.”
“She won’t scratch it.”
“She’s got one foot missing and a criminal record.”
“She bit a bad dad.”
The words land again. They are too close to everything.
Derby’s face goes still.
I reach for August before the silence gets too heavy. “Why don’t you show Princess Chomp to the sandbox court?”
He hesitates. “Derby coming?”
Derby looks at me first.
My heart twists.
“Later,” Derby says.
August narrows his eyes. “Later means maybe.”
Derby crouches, eye level with him. “This later means yes.”
August studies him.
Then nods like accepting testimony from a witness. “Okay.”
He runs off toward the children, Blue Rex and Princess Chomp bouncing in his hands.
Now there is nothing between Derby and me but the things I did not say.
And all the things I did. The night we had. The morning I left.
Derby looks at my mouth.
Only once. Then he looks away like it costs him.
“I woke up,” he says.
My stomach clenches.