Chapter 4
I look normal, but believe me, I talk to dogs.
-Delanie’s secret thoughts
Delanie
Two months later
My heartbeat stuttered as I rounded the corner of my kitchen and saw two people there fastened in a lip lock.
“Uhh.” I paused, unsure what to do.
I needed some water.
Like, stat.
I’d dry swallowed two pills—I’d been having headaches galore for the majority of my life, and I could feel the one that was pounding behind my temples was gearing up to be a bad one—and they were currently stuck in the back of my throat.
I had to get some water.
There was no other choice.
Especially since the longer they stayed there, the more I wanted to gag.
Ignoring the amorous couple, I walked to the cabinet beside them, pulled down one of Asa’s color changing cups, and walked to the fridge that was making a very suspicious groaning and vibrating sound.
Likely, the fridge would go out while I was gone, and we wouldn’t notice because Dillan had been spending her days at Booth’s place.
I filled the cup up halfway, then swallowed.
The pills stayed put.
I tried again and was relieved when they went down smoothly.
When I sighed and turned to leave the room, it was to find both of them staring silently at me.
“What?” I asked.
“You need to go to Austin.”
I blinked.
“Um, what?” I asked.
“You need to go to Austin,” she repeated. “This is a great opportunity for you.”
I wasn’t quite sure how the next few minutes happened, but every single argument I made they had a solution for.
Before I could so much as understand what, exactly, had gone on, I was now scheduled to ride with Bourne all the way there.
An hour later, I was set on canceling, when I got a single text message.
The number was Bourne’s.
After he’d left that last time and didn’t come back, I’d deleted his number from my phone in a fit of annoyance.
Not that it really mattered. He had the easiest number in the world, and I knew it by heart. I could sing it in my sleep.
With it being one digit off from a very infamous number that most people born and raised in the 80s could sing by heart.
867-5301: I’ll be there tomorrow at eight to pick you up.
Annoyed already with him, I immediately texted him right back.
Delanie: I have to get Asa to school tomorrow. I’m taking him to the book fair. I can be ready by ten.
Or never, if you prefer.
Not that I would tell him that.
Telling Bourne that I didn’t want to do it would let him know that I didn’t think rationally when it came to him.
And I definitely wanted him to think I was rational.
Meaning, I’d sucked it up and agreed even though I thought it was a terrible idea.
867-5301: I’ll be there at nine-thirty. We can take him to the book fair together. Then we’ll leave straight from the school.
I hated that he had a plan that made sense. I couldn’t refute it in any way.
So I didn’t bother responding.
Instead, I spent the next couple of hours waiting for Asa to get off the bus by working the dogs.
When Asa’s bus pulled around the corner and headed our way, I had a huge smile on my face.
When the bus pulled to a stop, Asa started running down the stairs at full speed to get to me.
I braced myself before he could get to me and pulled him up into my arms, waving at the bus driver seconds later.
Asa’s tiny little arms went around me, and he squeezed me tight.
God, I loved the kid.
More than anything.
“How was school, baby?” I asked, squeezing him lightly before letting him go back to his feet.
Asa was small for his age, but still, he was getting huge. And there was going to come a point one day that I wouldn’t be able to pick him up any more like I’d just done.
“I learned how to write my name in cursive,” he said. “And, I ate a huge burger. My friend dared me to put ours together and make one. I almost choked, and the teacher told me I was messing around. So I only got one bite of burger before she threw my entire lunch away. You know that the burger is the only food I’ll eat at school, but she wouldn’t let me eat it.”
I felt my eyes narrow.
“Well,” I said, trying not to get too mad. “I don’t even know what to say.”
I could see reprimanding him, but throwing his food away?
“Don’t worry about it. She’s mean,” he said, dismissing my worry with a wave of his hand.
Now I was worrying even more.
“What do you mean that she’s mean?” I asked, grabbing his hand and leading him into the house, bypassing everything on the way to the kitchen.
“She’s really mean to me. I’m not sure why, but I just ignore her,” he said.