Page 288 of Wild Card 13

Ty bent forward, one hand on his knee, silently shaking.

The employee smiled proudly. "Pretty good likeness, right?"

Ty made a strangled noise. "He looks disappointed in me."

"That was the hardest part," the employee said seriously.

I pressed my knuckles to my mouth.

Ty lost it. Not loudly at first. Just one helpless laugh, then another, until he had to turn away from the sculpture like eye contact with Frozen Bento might finish him. "I cannot believe Rafa spent actual money on this.”

"Stop laughing. We have to move him."

"Him?"

"It feels disrespectful to sayit. Whenithas giant eyes that are glaring at us right now."

The next ten minutes involved three employees, one pallet jack, two arguments about angles, and Ty quietly losing a battle with melting cat physics before we had even left the bay.

"No, not that strap," the employee said.

Ty shifted. "This strap?"

"The other strap."

"There are seven straps."

By the time Frozen Bento was secured in the bed of Betsy, thesculpture towered over the cab like a clear, furious guardian of poor decisions. The insulated tarp was wrapped around the base and sides, but his head and upper body remained visible because, according to the employee, the shape made full coverage difficult.

I stared at the truck bed. Then at my shoes. Then at Ty. "How will he stay steady?"

Ty looked at the straps. "The straps will help."

"That is not a plan."

"Luce." Ty's expression shifted, careful. "You do not have to climb back there."

I stepped toward the back tire. "Give me a hand."

His eyebrows lifted.

"Do not make me repeat it."

He moved, offering his hand palm up. His hand closed around mine, warm and steady, and for one ridiculous second, standing beside an old truck with a six-foot ice cat looming over us, I remembered being eighteen and barefoot near a lake. Ty helping me climb onto the dock. Ty teasing me while I complained. Ty looking at me like the whole world had narrowed to the space between us.

Then the employee warned, "Careful of the drainage."

Cold water splashed off the tailgate and onto my tights.

I gasped. "Oh, that is obscene."

Ty's mouth pressed into a line.

"You are dead to me," I hissed.

That got him. A laugh broke out of him, bright and helpless, and I hated that I loved the sound.

With as much dignity as possible, which was very little, I climbed into the truck bed and wedged myself beside Frozen Bento. The metal was warm beneath one palm. The ice was bitter cold against the other. Water had already begun gathering in shallow streams around my shoes.