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The tears are coming as I buckle myself into my seat. Maceo is there, making sure I’m secure, his eyes red-rimmed.
When there’s nothing left to do, he takes my face in his hands and presses his lips to mine one last time.
The kiss ends too quickly with Maceo whispering gruffly in my ear, “I’ll bring you home soon, Pixie.”
Maceo shuts my door and slaps the hood.
Punk turns the van over and hits the gas, accelerating off of the property, taking me far, far away from Maceo.
The compound fades in the rearview mirror, and my heart caves. Clutching at my chest, I finally allow myself to cry.
“It’ll be okay, Jo. I got you,” Punk murmurs, his voice laced with pity.
But nothing is okay. I’mnotokay. I’m splintering apart like my soul is being torn from my body. All I can do is curl in on myself and let out my pain.
* * *
We have to cut through the city to get on the expressway leading east toward Florida. I’m still a hot mess as Punk pulls into a gas station mini-mart in town. He throws the van in park and looks at me sadly.
“I’m going to get you some water and tissues. I didn’t think to pack anything like that when we left. Is there anything else you want me to grab? Some snacks? We’re going to be driving for a long time.”
I shake my head numbly, tears slowing but still rolling down my face. The idea of eating anything right now makes my stomach twist.
He looks at me with concern. “Are you sure, Jo? Fuck, I hate seeing you like this. There’s got to be something I can pick up in there that could lift your spirits.”
My stomach gurgles. I may not want food, but my little stomach goblins disagree.
I swipe at my nose. “Maybe some sugar snap peas.” They’ve been my favorite snack since my diagnosis.
He gives me a dubious stare. “It’s a gas station mini-mart, Jo. I don’t think they carry them.”
My bottom lip trembles. Nothing is going right today.
“Ah, fuck. I’ll check, okay. Please don’t cry anymore,” Punk panics. “But can I have a back-up plan just in case?”
I chew on the inside of my cheek before answering. “Twizzlers.”
Punk gives me a goofy smile. “Now there’s a snack I can get behind. Plus, you could use some good sugary-cheer. You’re not supposed to have them, but a couple won’t hurt. I won’t tell as long as you don’t.”
My fingers crisscross my heart as I give a sad laugh.
“I’ll be a minute. You know the rules. Don’t get out of the van and don’t let anyone in, you got that?”
“Okay.” But I’m far from okay. In fact, I’m starting to feel worse, and not only because of leaving Maceo.
When Punk goes to exit the vehicle, I stop him. “Punk?”
“Yeah?”
My hands cradle my bump. “Maceo said Esteban reached out to him and knows about the babies.”
Punk’s hands wring the steering wheel, his knuckle turning white. “He did.”
“Did he say anything else?”
He pauses then decides to tell me. “He wants his son to work for him.”
I balk.What the hell?!
