then suddenly stops and jabs her finger at me repeatedly. “I’ve got it. We’ve been looking at this all wrong. You said you thought it was in the house. I bet Growler’s gonna try to get it out before you find it.”
“So, how does that help us?”
“We set a trap.”
“Huh?”
“You said he’s been calling collect from prison, right?”
“Yeah. I won’t take the calls.”
“Next time he does, you tell him you’re going out of town. With your mom in rehab, it’ll be the perfect opportunity for him to send someone to retrieve it. Either that woman, Sylvia, or maybe the lawyer.”
“Or Reload.” I arch a brow, reminding her of the worst possibility.
“We hide and wait for them to retrieve it, then we jump out with a gun and take it.”
“It sounds risky. I thought you didn’t like risky?”
“You’re rubbing off on me. Besides, I’m betting it’s going to be that Sylvia woman.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s going to want someone who’s biddable, and you said she already tried once. You and I can take her easy.”
“You think it’ll work?” I ask.
She throws her arm around me and grins. “Don’t go doubting me now, Lucy.”
I roll my eyes and chuckle. “You say so, Ethel.”
She laughs, but then the smile fades. “Have you heard from Gypsy since the other night?”
I push away. “No, and I told you I don’t want to talk about him anymore. That’s done.”
“Tess—”
“I mean it, Hayley.”
“Okay, okay. Fine.”
“Take me home, will you? I just want to take a hot shower and lie down.”
“Tired?”
“Seems I’m always tired lately.”
“Still getting sick?”
“It comes and goes, but not as much anymore.”
“That’s a good thing.”
We walk to the car and just before Hayley fires it up she turns to me and says, “If it’s a girl, you better name her after me… at least her middle name.”
I smile, but it’s a sad smile, knowing Gypsy won’t have any say in it. I’ll deliver alone, name the baby alone, raise it alone…
Hayley interrupts my thoughts. “I see that sad look. Don’t you worry; I’ll be here for you through all of it, even those dumb classes you have to take.”
As I burst into tears, she calls me a crybaby and cranks the tunes. “Will you stop crying if we stop at Sonic for ice cream?”
I smile and nod. She knows me so well.
Twenty minutes later, I’m shoving a spoonful of hot fudge sundae in my mouth when Hayley pulls to the curb outside my mom’s house.
“You’ve got company.”
I look over and see Gypsy sitting on the steps, his knees spread, his elbows on them, and his hands loosely clasped. He watches us.
“Oh, shit,” I whisper, yanking the spoon from my mouth.
“Give him a chance, Tess, and call me if you need me.”
I open the car door. She quickly drives away as I head slowly up the walk.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him.
He stands and shoves his hands in his pockets. I glance over and spot his bike in the drive. He doesn’t answer, just asks a question of his own.
“How long have you known?”
Shit. He knows, and only one person could have told him. Damn you, Hayley. I look over at his bike, avoiding his eyes.
“Tess, you should have told me.”
I nod, my throat suddenly closing up.
Worry flickers in his icy blue gaze.
“You okay?”
Maybe I could lean on someone for once, let him hold me and pretend it’s all going to be okay. I’m tired of trying to be strong. So tired.
He grabs the sundae from my hand, tosses it in a bush, and pulls me toward him for a kiss.
“Hey!” I shove him back.
“Let’s go inside and talk.”
“No.”
“Tess.”
“No.”
“Babe, please.”
I relent with a huff and unlock the door. We walk in, and I fold my arms. “So talk.”
His eyes lift to the stairs and the open walk above. “Which one’s your room?”
“What do you care?” I’m being a bitch, but I can’t help it.
“Come on.” He grabs my hand and pulls me along. Uncannily, he finds my room on the first try, turning the knob on the door to what was my childhood bedroom.
Since my mom’s been in rehab and I’ve been trying to find that money, I’ve been staying here. The room still has my twin bed. There’s a highboy dresser on one side of the window and a desk on the other with built-in shelves above. But they aren’t filled with the usual trophies from sporting events or scouts or whatever it is normal girls have whose fathers aren’t a one-percenter biker. My room