Page 182 of Show Me

“And?”

I stare across the gravel lot. “It’s complicated.”

“Usually is.”

A breeze changes direction. The sharp smell drifting from the garbage bin hits me all at once. My stomach rolls hard enough that I press a hand against it.

He clasps my shoulder as the lines on his forehead deepen. “You alright?”

“I’m fine.” The answer comes too fast. Too automatically.

Before he can say anything, Dr. Carter pushes through the front door carrying a small paper bag. She spots us. “You forgot these.”

Dad takes the medicine. “You saved me another trip.”

She smiles. Then looks at me, a crease forming on her forehead. “Is everything okay?”

“The smell hit me.”

She nods knowingly. “There’s nothing like the smell of garbage the day before pickup.”

“Yeah.”

“It gets almost everybody.”

“Are you sure that’s it?” Dad looks unconvinced. “Are you sure you’re taking care of yourself? Eating? Getting enough sleep?”

“I've eaten.” The scrambled eggs from three hours ago threaten to revolt and prove my statement to him. “Just tired.”

“Okay.” He kisses the top of my head and whispers, “Just be careful with your heart, kid.”

Something catches low in my chest. Because that’s exactly what I’ve been trying to do. The problem is.... It stopped working somewhere along the way.

He squeezes the back of my neck once. “And for the record…. That boy’s been looking at you like you matter for a long time.”

Before I can answer, he’s around the driver’s side and driving to the back to pick up the sow.

Hannah stands on the sidewalk holding another paper bag. “This one’s yours. Food sample, treats, flea preventative, and the probiotic we talked about.”

“You didn’t have to do all that.”

“I know.” She smiles. “I wanted to.”

I peek inside. “You always send people home with this much?”

“Only the ones I like.”

I laugh. “I’ll try not to abuse the privilege.”

“You’d better not.” She winks and returns to the clinic where my dad is picking up one of his pigs.

Chapter Ninety-Five

Ruby

Moments later, I pull my phone from my pocket, letting Xavier know I’m leaving the clinic on my way to the job site.

Me: Leaving the clinic now.