“No, I’m not! I’m not doing great at all. I need something now,” he barked before spotting me and jabbing his finger in my direction. “You!”
I shot to attention.
“You look like you’ve got a secret stash somewhere. Weed. Coke. I’ll accept any and all donations.”
Jess caught my eye and rolled hers. Her dad’s request seemed more serious than the roll of an eye, but if she said so.
“Sorry, man. I’m clean out of blow.”
His eyes narrowed in on me. Pissed. Then he cast me off. “Go away then. Get!”
“Dad. He’s not a stray dog. This is my friend Quinn. Be nice.”
“Nice? You want me to be nice when you’ve imprisoned me in this hell?”
“Would you rather be on the streets?”
“Is that even a question?”
“Okay, then. Tell me how you’ll manage in a wheelchair. How will you go to the bathroom? How will you sleep?”
“I’ll do it all in my chair.”
“Oh, sure.”
“You don’t believe me? I’m sitting in a load of crap right now.”
Jess cocked her head back before a laugh shot from her mouth. Sometimes laughing was all you could do. I knew with my own family how powerful humor could be. It had gotten us through the worst of times, and it had clearly also seen Jess through.
Upon hearing her laughter, her father snapped his grumpy mouth shut. But I swear I saw the very slightest flicker of amusement pass through his eyes.
“You’re ridiculous, Dad. Now, get your head back in the game. You wanted this, remember? You’re just frustrated because it’s taking longer to get you into a facility than we anticipated. Once you complete your rehab, you’ll thank me.”
“I’ll do no such thing. You’re dead to me, Jess. Dead.”
“Uh-huh. Okay. I love you too,” she said, handing him the bag she’d brought in for him. Damn, I loved the way this woman handled stress.
He grumbled something incoherent.
“I have the clothes you asked for, and there might be a bag of your favorite gummy worms in there.”
“Are they infused with whiskey?”
“Nope. Plain old gummy worms.”
“Well, fuck!”
“I’ll be back tomorrow. Love you, Dad.”
She grabbed my hand, raised that head of hers high again, and strolled out of there like she owned the place. I was awestruck. This woman was my queen.
We didn’t speak again until we got back in the car.
“Sorry about that,” she said, making no excuses. “He’s always such a cuddly little fella.”
“Adorable, really,” I agreed. “My favorite part was when he thought I looked like someone who’d have cocaine on me.”
She gripped my cheeks in her fingers. “You dime-bag tweaker, you.”
