Page 63 of The Second Deal

Mylip trembles. “Whatif it doesn’t work out?”

“Allyou can do is apologize, do better, and move on.Justbecause you messed up doesn’t mean you stop living life to grovel for the rest of it.”

Mygaze goes soft on a cactus patch in the back corner of the yard that’s baked under the sun for at least one hundred days too many.

Iapologized; he made it clear that, even though there’s still something between us, whatIdid was unforgivable.Tobe honest,Idon’t thinkI’dbe able to forgive, either, no matter how much loveIstill might have afterward.

Iwring my hands around my wrists. “I’mnot sure what moving on looks like,”Iadmit.

Mompats my knee and kisses my head. “Whateveryou want it to look like, baby.”Sherises from the bench and heads towards the door. “Biscuitsshould be ready in a few.”

Takinga deep breath,I’mnot sure what it is thatI’mexhaling back into theTexasheat.Itdoesn’t feel like relief, but, maybe, in some way, it is.

I’mnot getting everythingIhad hoped for coming back, butIthinkI’malready getting so much more than whatIdeserve.

Thegash on my arm suddenly stings, making me hiss and clutch at my arm. “Fuck,”Igroan, staring at the gauze that’s now speckled with red.

Flickingat the tape,Igently peel it back.

Theyowl that falls from my lips is like nails on a chalkboard at the sight of the pulsating gash swelling around the butterfly bandages and dripping with fresh blood.Bitsof flesh have blackened, and small pockets of pus dot the cut.

Ihave to cover it up beforeIpuke.

Swingingthe door open, windows almost shatter as it hits the wall whenIstumble into the kitchen. “Mom?Dad?”

Dadrushes back inside the kitchen. “What’swrong?”

“I…Ineed help.”

Chapter23

Adrenaline

–12 Stones

Peelingback the gauze,IshowDadthe wound from la lechuza, the pus-filled and blackened rotting flesh that makes it look like my arm could fall off at any second.

Hefrowns, but he doesn’t panic likeIthought he would.

“How’dyou cut yourself, sweetheart?”Hegently handles my arm to further examine it. “Well, whatever you did here seems to be doing the trick.Justneed a change of gauze, is all.”

Followinghis line of sight, my brows furrow and lips part in confusion.

Thegash on my arm is fine.Noswelling around the butterfly bandages.Noblackened flesh or pus.Justsome fresh blood likeIjust stretched my arm too far and reopened part of the wound a little. “Oh.”

“C’mon, sweet pea.I’llget you fixed up.”

Dadleads me to the medicine cabinet in his andMom’sbathroom and replaces the gauze on my arm.Meanwhile,Istare at it likeIjust grew an extra limb—Iswearit looked like it was about to fall off.

“Youget this at the show last night?”Dadasks.

“Um, no,”Isay with a shake of my head. “Wenta little too wild partying around mesquite afterwards,Iguess.”

Dadexhales through his teeth, that sound of a disappointed but understanding father. “Soundslike you need to settle down.”

Slowlyand wide-eyed,Inod. “Agreed.”

Afterfirmly taping the fresh gauze in place,Dadtakes my hand and gives it a small squeeze. “Youshould think about it,Steph.”

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