Page 85 of The Best Kind of Bad

“Alright, babe. Let’s get you fixed up.”

A few painkillers and some non-lavender herbal tea later, the pained edge is finally starting to ease from her eyes. I’ve given her my heat pack, which also happens to be lavender scented, and she has it resting on her stomach. Dusty came in long enough to realize that our plans had taken a sharp detour before disappearing outside.

Sienna watches him go, giggling a little. “Oh God. You should have seen him and Gus when I first got my period.”

“When was that?”

“Last fall. Those two were like two chickens with their heads cut off. Gus went to the drugstore and, bless his heart, bought about every brand of pad and tampon they had. A pack of adult diapers, too. Just to cover his bases.”

“Uncle Gus did that?” I grin, feeling that bittersweet rush of feelings that flow through me whenever I think about him.

I miss him.

I miss them all.

“That’s just what Gus was like.” Sienna adjusts the pillow behind her back. “Our personal guardian angel. Your uncle was a good man.”

“Yeah. He really was.”

“No, I don’t think you understand.” Sienna skewers me with her clear blue eyes. “He literally saved us.”

“By becoming your guardian?”

“Long before that. When mom was sick. She couldn’t keep up with the bills, but Dusty flat refused to ship her off to one of those state-run nursing homes.”

I wince at that, wondering if I’ve shipped my dad off the way she means. Dusty was faced with the same scenario and chose to keep his mother at his side. To take care of her. Me? I visit my dad once a week. Because I’m ‘busy’.

Because I can’t stand to see him like that.

Sienna pokes at the heat pack on her stomach. “Dusty won’t really talk about it, but I saw more than he knew. Things were getting pretty desperate, I think. Not a lot of work opportunities for a seventeen-year-old kid. And then, out of nowhere, Gus came along. Offered him a job. Helped us out when the insurance stuff got too confusing, or we had to make medical decisions. He’s a hero in my mind.”

Sienna’s eyes are fiery, daring me to contradict her.

I wouldn’t. Because heroes come in all shapes and sizes.

This one just happened to have salt and pepper hair and a farmer’s tan.

56.

Dusty

Marnie had to wrestle the keys away from me in order to drive. She insisted she could handle the city better, which injures my manly pride, but I’ve realized there is one upside to riding shotgun.

I have both hands completely free.

She’s wearing this strappy little black dress that I think is supposed to be casual. But there’s nothing casual about the way it plunges between her breasts. Or the way the hem slips up her tanned thighs. I wore black jeans and a black tee to match, but I can see I’m going to have to work hard to keep up with her if we’re going out with her looking like that.

As soon as we hit the city limits, Marnie starts bombing around, cussing out drivers who aren’t driving at least ten over. All that road rage from such a little thing is kind of cute.

And frightening.

I grip her thigh, letting my fingers sail higher and higher. She pauses in a tirade about a slow-moving garbage truck long enough to suck in a shaky breath. “That’s very distracting.”

I shrug, grinning, and pull my hand back.

She catches it and drags it back. “I didn’t say to stop.”

“You’re getting bossy in your old age.”

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