Chapter 61
I reached for my own wine glass and downed what little remained. I glanced at Josh. He was grinning from ear to ear, with both eyes on Lawton.
Lawton looked around the table. "It was right after this underground fight in downtown Detroit. I'd just had the worst beating of my life. Total massacre. And I'm lying there in a pool of my own blood—"
"Oh for the love of God," Loretta muttered.
"Mom!" Lauren Jane said. "Don't interrupt." She gripped Lawton's arm. "It's just getting good." She leaned closer to Lawton. "Go on. We're all dying to hear the rest of it."
"And I look up," Lawton said, "and I saw this girl, and she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen."
Lauren Jane's brow wrinkled. "Who was she?"
Josh spoke up. "It was Chloe. Wasn't it?"
Lawton nodded. "Yup." He gave Josh a significant look. "And you know what?"
"What?" Josh asked.
"She probably saved my life."
"I knew it!" Josh said.
Loretta was frowning. "That's some story," she said.
I tried to keep from laughing. It sure was. I'd never even been to one of Lawton's fights, not the real ones, anyway.
Lawton held up a hand, palm out. "All true, I swear."
Lauren Jane looked at him with narrowed eyes. "But you've never lost a fight in your life." She straightened in her seat and announced, "I know everything about him, probably even more than Chloe."
I snorted. If she had to ask him about secret tattoos, she was way behind the curve on that one.
"What's so funny?" she said.
I blinked back at her. "Nothing." I gave a little pat to my throat. "Chicken bone."
Her jaw clenched. "We had turkey."
"Oh. Turkey bone then."
She pushed back from her seat. "I'm bored."
"Then maybe," Loretta said, "you can do the dishes."
"But I don't wanna do the dishes," Lauren Jane said. "I know. Make Chloe do it." Lauren Jane turned to me. "I mean, you're used to it, right?"
Lawton pushed back his chair too. "Sorry," he said, "but Chloe and I have to get going."
Loretta frowned. "Why?"
"Prior engagement," he said. "A thing at the hospital. You understand, right?"
"Oh," she said. "Of course."
My dad stood. "I guess we'll let you two cowpokes head on down the trail, then."
"Oh for Heaven's sake, Dick," Loretta said. "Enough already!"
My Dad's eyebrows furrowed. "What?"
Lawton looked at me. "Chloe? You ready?"
I glanced at Josh. He was still smiling. I glanced at Loretta. She was glaring at my dad. I glanced at my dad. He was reaching for another piece of cobbler. I glanced at Lauren Jane. She was looking down at her lap. Texting?
"Lauren Jane!" Loretta said. "For the last time, no phones at the table."
Lauren Jane did a mimicking voice. "No phones at the table."
"Young lady," Loretta said. "Are you mocking me?"
I looked to Lawton. "Yup, I'm ready." I turned to Josh. "Wanna walk us out to the car?"
At the table, the argument between Loretta and Lauren Jane was heating up by the second. I heard words like "old bag," "ungrateful snot," and something about a cut in someone's allowance.
Walking toward the door, Lawton leaned in close to me. "She still gets an allowance?"
I shrugged. "Maybe not for long."
By the time we reached the front door, the argument had turned into a wrestling match, with Lauren Jane holding on tight to her phone while Loretta struggled to pry it out of her grip. Other than Josh, no one acknowledged our departure at all, which was just fine with me.
Standing in the driveway, I gave Josh a goodbye hug. Then Lawton shook Josh's hand, man-to-man.
"Best Thanksgiving, ever," Josh said.
Surprisingly enough, I had to agree.
When we pulled out of the driveway a minute later, I was surprised to find myself actually smiling. "You know what?" I said. "You're right. That was fun."
"Told ya," he said as hit the accelerator.
"Oh my God," I said. "That whole story about how we met—" I shook my head. "Where'd you come up with that?" I laughed. "I can't decide if I should kiss you or scold you for lying."
"Baby," he said, "I'm a lot of things, but a liar isn't one of them."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, right." I glanced out the window. We were practically flying. "Hey Lawton," I said. "We're not running late anymore. Wanna slow it down?"
"Sorry. Can't."
"Why not?"
"Because," he said, "I figure we got about fifteen minutes to make it to the hospital."
"You weren't kidding?" I said. "You really do have plans there? Oh jeez, I'm so sorry. Why didn't you say something when I first called?"
"Because when you called, I didn't know we'd be going."
"Huh?" I stared over at him and felt myself tense. "Lawton," I said, with a voice far steadier than I felt. "What's wrong with your face?"
He leaned over to glance in the rear-view mirror. "Huh. That's not good." Returning his gaze to the road ahead, he hit the brakes and skidded to a stop on the side of the road.
"What is it?" I asked.
Still gripping the wheel, he looked down and shook his head as if clearing the cobwebs.
"Are you alright?" I said.
When I reached out for him, his hands slipped off the steering wheel. I looked down. The hands were so swollen his fingers looked sausages about to pop. I glanced again at his face. Gone were the lean lines and sharp angles. In its place was a swollen mass of facial features I barely recognized.
"Oh my God," I said. "What's wrong?"
He leaned his head against the back of his seat. Slowly, he turned to face me. His words were so garbled, I had a hard time understanding him. But I'm pretty sure what he said was, "Baby, can you drive a stick?"
And the answer, which I was terrified to give, was no. I couldn't.