Page 47 of I Knew You Were Trouble

“Looks like snow.” He pushes up from the bench and lends a hand. “Bikes and icy roads aren’t fun, even for more experienced riders.”

“Can I finish my cocoa?” I lift my half-full cup.

“Two more sips.”

“Now who’s the hardass,” I mutter, and his eyes pop open wide, and I slam my hand over my mouth.

“You just said ass.”

“I know!” Look at me go with all this rule breaking.

“Gertrude has truly changed you.”

We laugh together, and we probably sound awful to any passersby—him with his baby hyena, and me with my snort. I take three sips, because I’m a rebel now, and then I strap on his helmet. I’m ready for Gertrude to change me even more.

Pete

I flop down onto the stuffy couch in the break room, rubbing my eyes and throwing my Troublemakers cap off and onto the middle cushion. If I’m lucky, I can get a twenty minute nap in before my next shift. These doubles are killing me, not to mention the time I’m spending with Candace. Over the weekend I spent every waking hour next to her—or pressed together with her—and I didn’t realize until far too late that I missed out on much-needed sleep.

Mondays are her days off, so I’ve been Candace-less all day, and my energy is at an all-time low. Didn’t help that my first shift was the kiddie rides. School is officially out, so we’re crazy busy, and I was manning the bumper cars for two hours before I finally got switched to the carousel. There’s a pedal on the floor I have to step on for the bumper cars to work, and now there’s a major cramp in my foot.

I throw my head back against the couch and let my eyelids drop shut. I should set my timer, but I can’t seem to find the motivation to dig into my pocket.

Like a sign from God to stop being so damn lazy, my phone vibrates against my upper thigh. I let out a sigh and ignore it for a good two rings before my arm listens to the command to answer the thing.

His picture fills my screen, and I groan and press the green answer button. “Hey, Dad.”

“Did you think about what I asked?” he says with no preamble.

“About the mortgage?” I ask, even though I know damn well that’s what he’s talking about. We’re getting closer and closer to Christmas, and Demi’s at home for winter break, and I’m sure they’re struggling with how to feed her three times a day or buy more pills.

“I’d like to know what to plan for, PJ.” My dad is the only one to call me PJ, and for that reason, I never tell anyone that nickname. He usually uses it to patronize me.

Exhaustion pulls me under, but I at least have some strength to bite my tongue. Another shift though, and I would’ve just asked him who the parent is here.

“Dad… do you have anything for Demi for Christmas?”

“What kind of question is that?” Frost edges his voice, getting colder by the second. “A roof over her head is gift enough.”

But you’re not providing that either…“So no.”

“She’s old enough to get it.”

“She’s ten.”

“So were you.”

Yeah, and I remember going to school come January wondering if I’d slept through the holiday. No presents, I get. Mom and Dad have always struggled, with Dad hopping from job to job and spending most of his income on his “medicine.” But there was no tree or singing or dinner or any attempt at all to indicate a holiday had come and gone.

At ten, with my buds celebrating and playing with their toys, I started asking if we didn’t believe in Christmas anymore. Dad sat me down and said that there were more important things than presents. Like water and cable. If given the chance, I think I would’ve liked to be a kid just a little longer.

Demi’s the baby, and I worried about how fast she’d have to grow up once Mad and I left the house. Ten is still too early for me to accept, and I’m not going to let it happen to her.

“I’m planning a Christmas for Demi,” I tell him. “Got a tree already.”

“You spent money on a tree?”

“Yes.”

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