Page 70 of Daddy’s Fortitude

“I carry shit, not you.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Seriously? ‘I carry shit.’ Is that all you have to say?”

“Pretty sure. What else did you want me to say?”

“Jeez, I don’t know.” When he set down the backpack, she pulled out paper plates and set them down, putting some food on them. The cats immediately appeared, eating like they were starved.

“We might have to pay someone to feed them.”

“I haven’t got the money for that,” she said.

Yeah, that was something else he needed to address with her now that the funeral was over. He had to figure out what kind of bills she had and then he’d pay them for her. He’d been tempted to go through her mail, and he would if she didn’t tell him the truth about what was going on. However, he really wanted to give her the chance to be honest with him first.

She didn’t get to keep things from him.

“But I do need to figure something out,” she said, chewing on her lip.

“We need to figure something out. You’re not on your own anymore,” he reminded her.

For some reason, a sad look crossed her face. He thought that would make her feel better, not worse.

“Yeah, you’re right,” she said. “We can figure it out.”

They finished up feeding the cats and got back into his truck.

He really wasn’t happy about her going to work tonight, but he’d already lost that argument.

Ammo drove her to the grocery store, and they sat in the back parking lot for a moment.

Then she turned to him. “Thanks for the ride and for helping me feed the cats. And for all the work you did in the yard, fixing the shower, and bringing me food. Sorry I checked out like I did today.”

“We buried your husband yesterday, and it wasn’t a nice experience. Not to mention all the other shit that went on. I think you have a right to check out for a few hours.”

“Yeah, but you were right. I do tend to hide or run, and I’ve got to stop doing that. I’ve got to find a way to be brave.”

“I think you’re plenty brave, sweetheart,” he told her. “What time do you finish up?”

“You really don’t have to come back and get me.”

“Oh, yeah? And how are you expecting to get home? What do you normally do?”

“You know what? You can come back and get me at midnight.”

“Midnight, Jesus,” he grumbled. “It’s late. You need your sleep.”

“I’m used to it. I worked later when I had my job at Danny’s Bar.” She shot him a look, then reached for the door handle.

“Wait.” He walked around and opened the door for her, helping her down. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you’ve been avoiding my question.”

“Question? What question?” she said as he escorted her over to the back door of the supermarket.

“About how you used to get home at night without a car.”

She smiled up at him. “I think it’s best that we don’t dwell on the past, don’t you think?”

Good Lord, she was trouble. And he wanted nothing more than to grab her, carry her home, then put her over his knee for not answering his questions. And not doing what he told her to. And for risking her health and safety.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t do any of those things.