Dial flashed me a look letting me know if I uttered another single, solitary word about Oz Palmer she would drive us into the nearest tree. “What did you and Fancy talk about?”
“Dial it’s not even seven in the morning. How do you have the energy for all these inquisitive questions?”
“I just want to understand the circumstances that led me to have to pick up your sorry ass this morning.”
Turning the radio up, I reclined my seat, and pulled my ball cap down over my eyes. Hopefully Dial took the hint. I was pleading the fifth. No more questions. From now on, it was no comment from me.
Dial cut the radio off. “I’m doing you a solid and you have the nerve to try to shut me out.”
“Not shutting you out. I’m just tired.”
“I remember a time when you used to tell me everything.”
“When we were kids? I don’t have an obligation to tell you what’s going on in my life.”
“Is that why you didn’t tell me about Willa?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You had me over here hyping Willa up. Telling you how great she was and this whole time you’ve had her on speed dial for booty calls.”
“Who the fuck told you that?”
“Cy.”
“When did you talk to Cyrus? And why are you two talking about me?”
“What else do we have to talk about but our stupid baby brother?”
“I’m not a baby.”
The corners of Dial’s mouth turned upward. “But you are stupid.” Being the youngest of three had its perks, except when your older siblings teamed up on you. Which Dial and Cyrus often did when we were growing up. They’d say let’s play hide and seek and I’d run off looking for the best spot to conceal myself on the farm. One winter I was in the barn for hours wrapped up in a horse blanket, thinking I was a master hide and seek player because they couldn’t find me. Come to find out those fuckers were never looking for me.
“Did you sleep with her?”
“Willa?”
“No, Fancy?”
I lurched forward, shaking my fist. “Dial, mind your fucking business.”
The tires screeched against the pavement as she abruptly stopped in the middle of the road. “Get out.”
“What?”
“Get out of my car.”
“Dial you’re in the middle of the gotdamn road. This isn’t safe.”
“Well if you get your ass out I can move.”
Inhaling deeply, I hopped out of her car, coffee cup in hand. “You really are a piece of work.” I slammed her passenger door and she took off like a bat out of hell, leaving me in a plume of dust and exhaust fumes. “I’m telling Mom,” I screamed at the top of my lungs.
Should I have blown up at my sister? No. Nevertheless, driving off and leaving me stranded was childish. Trust me ifthere was anyone else half as reliable as Dial I’d have called them instead. I just wasn’t remotely interested in talking about Fancy with her. My sister acted like I owed her every finite detail of my life. But if I asked one question about hers, she’d knock my block off.
I still didn’t understand what happened between her and Ozzie. One minute they were a thing and the next it was over and she was walking around pretending like everything was fine. The last time she allowed herself to be vulnerable with me was a few months after she had Maple. She came into Figs and Twine while on maternity leave and just cried, and I held her while Maple was asleep in her car seat. When the tears dried up, she left and never mentioned it again. Dial liked to pretend she was invulnerable.
Last night was still etched in my memory. Fancy’s easy, carefree personality. The way she flitted around my house like her presence was an everyday occurrence. I woke up this morning with a rock-hard dick that was begging to be addressed. In the shower I stroked myself, no longer able to ignore the longing. All I could think about was Fancy’s hips grinding against my lap, the softness of her skin, the minty sweet taste of her mouth. I closed my eyes and pretended instead of my rough, calloused hand it was her. That my dick was stroking her cushy, wet, tight pussy. Which was all the motivation I needed to shiver and release, bracing myself against the shower wall, fearful my knees would buckle.
