“Yeah,” she says, getting into the car, and I get into the car also. “Will I end up in the penalty box?” she asks.

“You only go to the box when you do something bad, Mom,” Dylan says, and I wink at her before putting on my sunglasses.

“Where to?” I ask, and she looks at me.

“The closest Walmart,” she says, and I nod at her and punch it in the GPS. We get there, and she gets out of the car and opens the back door for Dylan.

“Are you coming with us?” Dylan asks, and I look at him.

“No, buddy, I have to make a phone call,” I say. He jumps out of the car, and they walk into the busy Walmart.

I pick up my phone and dial the one person I know who can help me. “Well, well, well.” She answers on the first ring.

“Hey,” I say, looking to make sure they haven’t come out. “I need a favor.”

“It’s going to cost you,” she says, and my eyes never leave the glass door.

“Whatever it is,” I say and put my plan into motion.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Caroline

I walk into Walmart, and the stale air hits me right away. My hands are clammy, and my knees are shaking. It’s surreal; this whole week has been surreal.

I spent extra time on my hair today and curled it with the wand that he had in his bathroom. I tried not to think about who it belonged to, and when I went into the kitchen to clean up, my stomach was fluttering as if I was going to prom. He walked out, and I don’t know what I expected, but I didn’t expect him to be so, just. Hot. Then my mouth couldn’t stop talking, but then when he told me we could stop to grab the rest of my clothes from home, I thought I was going to throw up and ruin the only clothing I had.

I didn’t know how he would react, but I had to tell him the truth. I vowed never to lie to him, and I’m not going to. Besides,

watching him last night with Dylan was just the cherry on the cake. The way he held him and refused to let him go. I was waiting for him to fight with me about the clothing, but he didn’t, and when we step into Walmart, I head for the kids department and grab a pair of blue shorts that are on sale for nine dollars and a white T-shirt that is on liquidation for four ninety-nine. “Can I wear my sneakers?” he asks, and I nod.

“It’s fine,” I say and go to the register and slip a folded twenty that I keep in the back of my wallet in a secret compartment that I cut into it.