“You weren’t there.”
“I was right downstairs.”
“You said you’d be there.”
The accusation is small.
The hurt is not.
Amelia’s face crumples for one second before she controls it. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I should have been there when you woke up.”
I glance at Sophie.
Her eyes are wet.
That does something to me. It always has. Sophie crying makes me want to wreck entire towns.
August looks over Amelia’s shoulder. His gaze lands on Derby.
“You didn’t find the dinosaur,” he says.
Derby freezes.
Whiskey’s eyebrows lift.
Royal looks like he might actually enjoy this.
Derby points at himself. “Me?”
“You said motorcycles find things.”
“I did not say that. She said that.” He points at Sophie like a man identifying the true criminal.
Sophie wipes under one eye and says, “I remember Derby volunteering.”
“I did not volunteer.”
August stares at him.
Derby stares back.
The kid wins.
They always do. That’s why I avoid negotiating with them.
Derby mutters, “Fine. Tomorrow. If your mama says it’s all right.”
August looks at Amelia. “Can he?”
Amelia’s expression is caught between exhaustion, disbelief, and something fragile that looks too close to hope.
“We’ll see,” she says.
Derby makes a pained sound. “That means no.”
“No,” Sophie says. “That means she is a mother who has learned not to promise things she may not be able to give.”
The room quiets again.