I return to the house, just as he commanded without looking back.

But I don’t have to look back to feel his eyes burning into me as I leave.

I back down, but I don't give up.

I spend the rest of the day in my room behind a locked door, ignoring Meemaw when she comes upstairs and asks if I want dinner. She sounds apologetic but offers no explanations.

I guess people don’t feel they need one when it comes to Waylon. He wants me to stay, so she stalled me when I asked for her help, then immediately told him what I was trying to do. Probably without a second thought.

Instead of eating lunch or dinner, I strip naked and wash nearly everything I’m wearing—a tee with a Peter Pan collar and a pair of jeggings. I run the shirt's armpits and the crotch of my borrowed panties under the spigot in the bathroom sink. Then I hang them out the window to dry for most of the day. And when I go to bed, I hide them underneath all the T-shirts, just in case Meemaw figures out how to get in here.

I refuse to let my one decent outfit get taken from me like everything else.

Meemaw’s probably expecting me to stay locked in my room forever. But I make my way downstairs toward the smell of another fragrant breakfast the next morning.

I find her in the kitchen again. And Waylon’s sitting at the table as if we’re all in some sort of videogame that completely reset when I lost.

“There you are!” Meemaw calls out as soon as I emerge from the short hallway. “I was just telling Waylon about how you didn't eat anything last night. I was beginning to worry you had plans to starve yourself.”

No more nice girl act for me. Meemaw had proven she was no better than Waylon yesterday. Worse, actually. She was one of those foster parents who pretended to be nice, acted like they wanted to help you but betrayed you in the end.

I ignore her completely and walk straight over to Waylon.

“I need money to buy myself something to eat at the general store.”

Waylon shifts his gaze to Meemaw, who immediately responds with, “I'm making Belgian waffles for your breakfast date right now. You don’t have to go to the store. Just give me a few minutes.”

I keep my eyes on Waylon and repeat, “I need money to buy myself something to eat. Are you going to give it to me? Or do I have to submit by doing something horrible like sucking your dick just so I won’t starve?”

Meemaw gasps behind me. “I would never let you starve!” she sputters.

But Waylon simply holds my gaze with those two icy lakes he calls eyes.