Page 50 of Penn

“Don’t be sorry. I didn’t know you were religious.”

“I’m not. But I do believe that in moments like this, we should remind whoever it is we believe in that we understand we’re at His mercy. And that we are putting our faith in His hands because there’s no other option.”

I’d never thought of it that way. “And that doesn’t feel… hypocritical?”

“Pardon?”

“Praying when things go bad seems like only turning to Him because you don’t have any other choice.”

“Who says I don’t send a prayer when things are good, too? I was basically crying out to God all last night.”

Smirking, I pin her against the truck and kiss her. As much as I ache for Zeppelin and what he’s going through, I can’t help but want to chase this happiness I’ve had for two months now. To relish in the joy because we just saw firsthand how quickly joy can turn to despair.

“Do you really pray to God when things are going well?” I ask, prying myself off her to open the pickup door.

“Not all the time, but I send thanks up when something good happens. When something I’d hoped for comes around. I like to be grateful.”

“Maybe I should give it a try.”

“It can’t hurt.”

I walk around to the driver’s side of the pickup and wonder how I would even start. Pray for Misty’s recovery as well as thank Him for bringing Dixie to me?

It’s probably better to leave this up to Dixie. I don’t want to jinx anything. There’s too much at stake right now.

Chapter 19

Dixie

It’s been two days, and Misty still hasn’t woken up. Penn had to do something at the brothel, Velvet Desire, today, and I decided to visit Misty. To see with my own eyes that she’s okay.

Her room is small, but I smile when I walk in to find Bernie sitting on the bed, holding her mom’s hand. Even in this situation, Bernie is a delight. She’s telling her mom a story about her friend Carly.

“And then she told me to kick the ball, and I made it in the net, Mommy. Her mom recorded it on her phone, and she promises to send it to you,” Bernie says.

Zep sits in the chair beside the bed looking like he hasn’t slept in as many days as Misty’s been in here. He looks up at me and nods. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I say. “I just wanted to check in on her. And you two. Do you need anything?”

“I need her to wake up,” he says, rubbing a hand over his face. “I appreciate you coming by, Dixie.”

Bernie turns and smiles at me. “Hi, Dixie!”

“Hi, Bernie.”

“When Mommy gets out of here, you have to come to the party. Phoebe promised to make her favorite cake. Peanut butter, banana, and chocolate.”

“It sounds kind of disgusting, but it’s actually amazing,” Zep says with a soft smile.

Patting my stomach, I smile back at them. “It actually sounds really good.”

“It is, and Mommy ate so much of it. Phoebe had to find ways to make it lower calorie—whatever that means—because she couldn’t move around.”

Zep lets out a soft chuckle. “She gained a little more than they wanted, so we had to figure out how to cut weight.”

“Trust me, it’s hard to move around whether you’re on bedrest or not. I’m pretty sure my center of gravity is all screwed up right now. And my back kills me most of the time. And I still have three months to go,” I say with a tentative laugh.

The thought of labor frightens me. Not just because I’m standing in Misty’s room who had one of the worst birthing experiences I can imagine, but because it seems really painful. I read that the pain a woman goes through during childbirth is actually enough pain to kill a person.