Because I remember being a kid and doing everything I could to help out my mom because my dad had—once again—gone off on some adventure, convinced that this new scheme would solve all our money problems. He never seemed to realize thathewas the one causing them. My father dragged us all over the country, chasing the next big thing.
Arizona was five when Momma finally put her foot down. We’d been living in Medford at the time, and I’d spent my entire summer convincing our neighbors to let me mow their lawns to scrounge up some extra money. I came home covered in dirt and grass cuttings after mowing six lawns in a row, proudly presenting my sweaty wad of cash to Momma once she’d gotten home from working at the daycare center. I thought she’d be so happy, because it was the most I’d ever made in a day, but she’d burst into tears. My older sister, Georgia, who’d just finished making dinner, quickly hid her babysitting money behind her back.
“I’m sorry, Momma.” My chin hits my chest as my cheeks flare hot. “I was just trying to help.”
She drops to her knees, her cool fingers framing my face until I meet her gaze. “Tenny, no. That’s why I’m upset. I’m so grateful for you”—she reaches to clasp Georgia’s hand—“and you, sweetpeach. I’m crying because you’re only eleven. You’re supposed to beplaying, not working all day. Georgia should be riding bikes with friends and crushing on boys—”
“Gross,” my sister says with a teenage scoff.
Momma’s bursting laugh suddenly makes the room lighter. When Arizona lunges to hug our mother, Georgia and I quickly follow suit.
“It’s going to get better,” she whispers, rocking us gently. “I promise.”
After the divorce, we moved back to Arizona—just the four of us. Georgia and I still helped out, but Momma insisted we also start after-school activities. In the dry heat of a spring afternoon, I fell in love with baseball. Georgia quickly became the lead in almost every school play. And Arizona barely has any memories of the man who made the rest of us miserable.
I make the final turn around a cactus-laden roundabout, and the corner of my mouth kicks up, because standing in the driveway is a man whoabsolutelymade a positive impact in my life—my middle school baseball coach. Unlike other players who prefer a palatial desert home for their six-week stay, I like to rent out the backyard casita on Randy’s property.
Though…
He’s not supposed to be home tonight. He’d told me yesterday that he was taking his wife, Teresa, out for dinner. That’s why I thought it would be okay to bring Alex and Mags here for a secluded evening.
Alex tenses as we inch closer to Randy. “Babe?”
I hear Alex’s unspoken questions: Who is this guy? Why is he waving at us? Why is his bald head so shiny?
Okay…maybe she didn’t ask the last one, but as a tween, I often wondered if he polished his scalp for maximum shine. You could use Coach Randy’s head and a magnifying glass and do some real damage in this arid climate.
I pull the truck into my temporary parking spot and rotate to catch Alex’s gaze. “Good thing you love surprises, sugarlove.”
Chapter 12
Tenny
“Isaid no food-related pet names,” Alex grumbles as I help her down from the truck.
“I know. My brain malfunctioned.”
“It seems to be doing that a lot today.”
I cage her against the closed door while Randy helps Mags out on the other side. “Do you want to take jabs at me, or do you want to know what’s going on?”
“Can’t I have both?” Alex’s smirk is so perfectlyherI’m tempted to pull out my phone and capture it.
“Focus, Stevens.”
That seems to pull her out of our flirty banter.
Wait.
Why the heck am I trying to stop this teasing tête-à-tête?
“Who is he?” she asks, all business now.
“The one who lives in this house and—”
“You don’t rent a whole house when you’re at camp? I thought you’d find the largest—”
“Just shows how you know nothing about me.”
