Ford looked at me, dead serious. “Why not?”
I gaped at him, then at the car, then back at him. “Because—because normal people don’t just buy someone a car!”
Ford shrugged, as if this were the most reasonable thing in the world. “I’m not exactly normal, Lil. And you’re not just someone to me.”
The sun caught on the windshield, sending a blinding flare straight into my eyes. “I can’t—there’s no way. You can’t just—what am I supposed to do with it?”
He smiled wider, like he’d expected this. “Drive it. Keep Noah safe. Maybe take a weekend off and go somewhere fun. I know you walk most places you need to go, but I’m hoping you’ll spend more time at Chickadee, and even if not, you need something for when you have to go outside downtown.” He pushed the keys toward my hand, insistent but gentle. “You don’t owe me anything. I just want you to have it.”
I glanced at Caroline, hoping for backup, but she was standing with her arms folded, smirking like a proud older sister. I waited for her to say something, but she just shrugged.
I shook my head, heat rising up my neck. “Ford, you can’t just?—”
He leaned in, dropped his voice. “Let me do something for you. Please. I promise, it’s not charity.” He hesitated, then added, “It’s because I care.”
I wanted to cry, or yell, or throw something, but instead I just stared at him and tried to make sense of the world. “I literally can’t believe this,” I muttered.
“I don’t think I can take it.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s a whole ass vehicle! And you’re—we just—we’re not even—” I couldn’t form full sentences.
“I’ll tell you what . . . you don’t have to decide anything right now. Just let it stay here in the lot and take the keys. If you really don’t want it in a couple weeks, then I’ll take it back.”
I groaned, burying my face in my hands.
How could I be so elated over something, so touched by his thoughtfulness, and so angry at the same time? I didn’t need him to swoop in and rescue me. I didn’t need a car to take care of my son. Sure, it might solve some problems, okay a lot ofproblems. But I wanted to earn what I had. I didn’t know how to explain any of this to Ford, mostly because I didn’t know how to process it in my own mind either.
“I don’t know what to say to you,” I said honestly. At least I could voice that. I kissed him and turned around, grumbling and stomping up the stairs and into my building.
Caroline followed close behind. She leaned close, her voice low and mischievous. “Yeah, head over heels. You must have had some moves last night.”
I made a strangled gurgling sound and let the door slam behind us.
Twenty
Ford
“Well shit.”
It’s not that I hadn’t expected some blowback. I knew the car was a move, maybe even the move—the kind you only get to play once, and you better hope the other person reads the rules the same way you do. I thought she’d be happy, or maybe that she’d at least laugh at my expense. Instead, she’d looked at me like I’d handed her a flaming bag of cash with a court summons inside.
I ran my hand through my hair, slicking it back until my scalp tingled. She’d be pissed off for a while. Maybe a day, maybe longer. Either way, the ball was in her court. I had to let her make the next move, or risk looking like the world’s most persistent stalker.
I turned my collar up against the cold and started walking. The air was sharp and clean, the kind that snapped your brain awake and made your skin tingle. Main Street was drenched in sunlight, but it didn’t do much to stem the October cold.
Downtown Whittier stretched three blocks wide and four blocks long, and even that felt generous. The Campfire Bakery was alive with warmth, sunlight glinting off the windows as the staff prepared for the upcoming rush of afternoon customers.The only other hint of activity came from the Whistle Stop Diner, where two high schoolers lounged in a booth by the window, their faces illuminated by the glow of their phones and the sickly green neon sign flickering outside. They didn’t even glance up as I walked by.
Every window along Main Street was adorned for fall: artificial leaves clinging to the glass, cheerful pumpkins lining the sills, and hand-painted signs advertising seasonal specials. A wistful nostalgia hung in the crisp air, making me feel both grateful and melancholic all at once. I couldn’t help but wonder if Lily was peering out at me from her window, or if she was talking shit to Caroline about how stupid and presumptuous I was.
A lone pickup truck rumbled past, the driver showcasing a bushy mustache that could have graced a cowboy movie.
I reached the end of Main without encountering another soul. Turning back felt like stepping into a void I wasn’t ready to confront again, so instead, I slipped into an alley behind the taxidermist and emerged onto the side street by the corner of the Dusty Barrel, seeking refuge in the familiar atmosphere of the saloon.
The sign out front buzzed and flickered, the B in Barrel permanently dead. I went inside, letting the smell of beer and old wood wrap around me like a damp blanket. Nobody looked up. The bartender was a guy in his fifties maybe, with a shaved head and the forearms of a man who’d once been able to deadlift his own bodyweight. He nodded as I slid onto a stool near the end.
“Whiskey,” I said. “Neat.”
