Page 36 of My Hotshot

“I’ll drive!” she announced gleefully.

I stopped mid-step and dropped my chin to my chest. “God help me.”

Just last week, I’d called to make her DMV appointment—and had been shocked to learn we could justwalk in. I should have known then my days were numbered.

Now here she was: sleepovers, friend group, anddriving. And she’d just called one of my favorite shows aclassic.

Grab my walker and haul me to the nearest nursing home. I was officially old.

We climbed in, and I buckled up slowly, my mom senses tingling.

“Maybe you could try to make some friends,” Lottie said as she eased the car down the driveway. “Like, go to the bar or something?”

I looked over at her. “I think I can handle making friends, Lottie. You don’t have to worry about me.”

She shrugged like it wasn’tthatbig of a deal, but I caught the little side glance she gave me. I appreciated it—even if it stung a bit.

We turned onto the street, and she pointed us in the direction of Julie’s.

“How do you know where we’re going?” I asked.

“Julie lives next to Tiff,” she said confidently, keeping her eyes on the road.

I nodded and sank a little deeper into my seat, one hand braced on the center console. She wasn’t a bad driver. You could justtellshe was new. Her hands were too stiff on the wheel, and her foot was still learning the delicate balance between acceleration and panic.

We drove in silence, the kind that felt comfortable on the surface but had a hint of melancholy under it. I kept sneaking glances at her profile—the familiar curve of her nose, the freckleon her cheek, the way she bit her lip when she turned. She was still my little girl. Just… not so little anymore.

When we reached Julie’s neighborhood, I started to relax—right before Lottie took a corner like she was in a NASCAR race.

I braced a hand on the door. “Maybe slow down before the turn next time?”

Even she looked a little rattled. “Good suggestion,” she muttered.

We parked out front and both got out of the SUV. I followed her up the walkway to a neat little ranch-style house with a cheerful blue door.

Julie’s mom answered after one knock, holding a glass of wine in one hand and a polite smile on her face. “You must be Lainey. I’m Meredith.”

“Nice to meet you.” I gave her a once-over—cute sundress, bare feet, glossy nails. She seemed nice enough, maybe a little too into her rosé, but nothing that set off my mom radar.

“Don’t worry,” Meredith said, as if reading my thoughts. “We’re just having a quiet night. The girls are in the basement. I’ll keep an ear out.”

“Thanks,” I said, offering a small smile.

Lottie was already halfway inside, shouting goodbye over her shoulder like we weren’t two feet apart.

“Text me if anything changes,” I called after her.

“Love you!” she yelled, already disappearing down the stairs.

I turned back to Meredith. “Thanks again. If anything comes up—”

“I’ve got your number from the contact form. She’s in good hands.”

I nodded and headed back to the SUV. Once I was alone in the car, I pulled the door shut and let out a long sigh. One single tear rolled down my cheek before I even noticed it.

“Man,” I whispered to no one. “Growing up sucks.”

Not just for Lottie. For me, too.

---