Page 106 of Wild Card 13

Dottie wagged her entire body.

“She’s really undermining your authority,” I said.

“I am aware.”

“Do you want me to talk to her?”

“No.”

“I’m good with discipline.”

“You once convinced half the roster to put googly eyes on Coach Holloway’s whiteboard markers.”

“That was morale building.”

She looked at me. This time, she did smile. Tiny. Unwilling. Gone almost before it arrived.

God help me.

“This is what I mean,” she whispered.

I stopped breathing. “What?”

Her eyes shone, but she did not cry. Lucy Thomas would have walked barefoot over broken glass before giving me that much in public. “Because every time you’re close to me…” She looked down at Dottie, as if the dog could lend her the courage to finish. “I want to make terrible life choices.”

The world went quiet around us.

Not actually. The park kept moving. Shoes hit pavement. Dogs barked. A child laughed somewhere near the playground. The wind worried dead leaves across the trail.

But all I heard was Lucy breathing. All I saw was the way her hand trembled once before she tightened it into stillness.

She still wanted me. And she hated herself for it.

“Lucy,” I said, and my voice did not sound like mine.

She shook her head. “Don’t.”

“I wasn’t going to?—”

“Yes, you were.” She looked up at me, and this time the pain in her eyes had teeth. “You were going to make it better. Or try to. Or say something that makes me forget why I can’t let you matter again.”

I had no answer. Because she was right. “I have practice,” I said finally, even though it was the last thing I wanted to say.

Something like relief passed over her face. “Then you should go,” she replied.

Dottie dropped the stick at my feet.

I nodded once, slow. “I’ll follow the rules.”

Lucy searched my face like she wanted to believe me and hated that she wanted to. “Thank you,” she said.

Then she tugged gently on the leash. “Come on, Dot.”

Dottie resisted for one full second, looking between us like she had strong objections to unresolved emotional conflict. “Dottie,” Lucy cooed.

The dog sighed. Then she trotted back to Lucy’s side, tail stillwagging, like she was willing to leave me but wanted her disappointment noted.

Lucy turned toward the curve of the trail. I watched her take three steps before I said her name. She stopped, but she did not turn around.