“Ditto,” I scoff at him. “That’s nice.”
His hand is on my knee, and he’s squeezing, and I really shouldn’t be thinking the thoughts I am.
“Go get the trailer,” I tell him, voice slightly strangled. “I’ll go in and see what’s there.”
“Uh-huh. Because that’s what you’ve got on your mind.”
“Stop it. We’ll have old-people sex later.”
“I wish you would stop calling it that,” he mutters. “We’re not old.”
“Says the forty-one-year-old.”
“Gonna spank your ass for that one later,” he promises darkly. “You’ll be singing a different tune then, I’m sure.”
I have to get out of the car before I do something dumb like demand he pull out his cock so I can blow him.
I push open the door and step out, the heat a little stifling. I grab my phone and dig through my laptop bag until I find the key Izzie had slipped me before we left. It feels like it’s burning the palm of my hand, and I shove it in my pocket. I close the door and walk around to the other side.
Otter rolls down his window. “I don’t like this.”
“Noted. But I need this. I think.”
“You call me,” he says, reaching out to wrap a hand around the back of my neck. He pulls me close, forehead pressing against mine. “You call me if you need me. I’ll come right back.”
“Sure,” I say, wanting nothing more than to get back in the car and go home.
“I’ll only be an hour at the most.”
“Okay.”
He jostles my neck a little before he lets me go.
And then he’s gone. I watch as the SUV disappears around the corner.
I breathe.
THERE’S A woman in the front yard next door. She’s on her knees, pulling weeds from the flower bed. She hears the creak of the rusted metal gate as I push it open and looks over at me.
“They ain’t home,” she says. She must think I’m here to sell something, like vacuums or Jesus. “Haven’t been home for a few days.”
“That’s because she’s dead,” I say.
Well done, it whispers. Don’t you dare pull those punches.
Her eyes widen a little. “The little girl?”
I shake my head. “She’s fine. She’s in Oregon with my—where she belongs.”
She sighs and reaches up to wipe the sweat from her brow. A little piece of grass sticks to her forehead. “Family? Didn’t think they had much of that.”
“Yeah.”
“Good,” she says. “She deserves it. Didn’t have anything like that around here. None of my business, I suppose. How’d she pass, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Heart attack,” I say, and it might be the most surreal moment of my life. Being here. Talking like this with a stranger. “A big one.”
She nods like that makes sense. “When it’s your time, it’s your time. Isabelle’s a good kid. I hope you take care of her.”