Page 225 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

Not funny ha ha right away.

Funny the way near misses can feel once your heart remembers how to beat normally again. Funny because the alternative is sitting too long with what almost happened, what did happen, what should have happened months ago, and all the ugly pieces in between.

By the time we’re back in the truck with the school fading in the rearview mirror, the whole cab feels wrung out.

June’s in the front with Wayne again. Fletcher’s in the seat beside me, arms folded, still carrying that dangerous sort of silence he gets when he’s talked himself down from doing something permanent to somebody’s face. I’m behind June with one arm hooked over the seatback, half watching traffic and half watching her.

Wayne drives fast, apparently almost personally offended by every car within twenty feet of us.

Can’t blame him.

For a while nobody says much. The adrenaline’s still in the truck with us, making everything feel a little too sharp. June keeps staring out the window as if waiting for her brain to catch up to the part where it’s over.

Or over enough.

Then, somewhere past the city limits, she starts laughing.

Just a little at first. One breath of it. Barely there.

Wayne glances at her. “You all right?”

She presses her lips together as if she can stop it and fails immediately. The laugh comes out again, brighter this time, disbelieving and a little ragged.

“I’m sorry,” she says, even though she’s still laughing. “I just… oh wow.”

“Are you really alright?”

Watching her hold her belly shows me she knows what I mean. “I promise, I’m good. I’m just processing. Physically, I’m perfect.”

That’s all it takes.

Fletcher huffs out a laugh of his own, low and almost unwilling. I lean back and let mine go too. Wayne lasts all of three seconds longer before his mouth twitches, and he shakes his head.

June looks over at him, incredulous. “She spat at me.”

“Yeah,” Wayne says.

“In a school.”

“Yeah.”

“After admitting to ruining my life over a man who looks like he irons his opinions.”

I lose it at that. Full laugh, head tipped back against the seat. Fletcher actually has to cover his mouth with one hand. Even Wayne’s laughing now, quiet but real.

“She really did that,” June says, sounding half shocked all over again. “Like she said all of it. Out loud. In the hallway.”

“She’s not exactly a planner,” I say.

June laughs harder. “No, she really isn’t. I think we can see that from everything she’s done.”

Wayne’s hand slides over to rest on her knee again. “You did good in there.”

That calms her some. I can see it happen. The laughter softens, settles into a smile she doesn’t quite mean to show.

“I didn’t feel like I was doing good,” she says.

“You were,” Fletcher says from behind Wayne. “You stayed on your feet. You didn’t let them redirect it. You asked for what you needed.”