Page 61 of Denied

“A minute,” he said, and went out after his sister. Sunny sat there with Elena on one side, Lauren on the other, the whiskey in her hand. Elena looked at the door, at the booth, at Sunny, and picked up her drink.

She gave it a minute. Then she went out too, because the whiskey was warm and Harvey’s was loud and she wanted the air, and that was the whole of her reason, and she’d have said so to anybody.

They were at Remi’s truck. Remi had the door open and one boot on the step and Brody had his hand on the top of the door, not holding it, just there, and neither of them saw her come out, because the light over Harvey’s door was behind her and the lot was dark.

“I’m not asking,” Brody said.

“Good.”

“I’m not asking, Remi. I’m saying I saw it.”

“You see everything. It’s a disease.” Remi got up into the truck. She sat there with her hands on the wheel and didn’t start it. “Don’t tell Dean.”

“I don’t tell Dean anything. Ask him.”

“Don’t tell her either.”

“She’s standing right behind you,” Brody said, and Remi looked in the mirror, and Sunny stood there in the dark with her arms around herself and didn’t pretend she hadn’t heard.

Remi looked at her a long moment in the mirror. Then she looked at her brother.

“I’ll tell you something, since you’re standing there being kind about it, which I hate.” She started the truck. “I know it’s real. Whatever that is, with her. I know it’s real. I knew before you did.” She put it in gear. “I put a date on my phone in June, Brody. The second night. You came in from the barn and asked me who was in the kitchen, and I knew. So don’t come out here and be gentle with me about what I do with my face. Go home. Take her with you.”

She drove off. The lot was dark again. Brody stood there with his hand still up where the door had been, and then he put it down, and turned around, and looked at her.

“Don’t ask me,” he said.

“I wasn’t going to ask you about Remi.” She came across the lot. “The second night?”

“I don’t know what she’s talking about.”

“You asked her who was in the kitchen.”

“I asked her who’d been at the fridge.” He put his hat on. “Get in the truck, Sunny. It’s after.”

He didn’t put the lamp on.

He stood inside his door with it shut behind them and his hat in his hand. The house was asleep under them, the old man, Lara, the kids, Dean, with the yard still lit outside, the church tables still out, somebody’s dog eating what was left. He put the hat on the dresser. He turned around. She was standing in the middle of the floor in the dress she’d worn all day, with her shoes in her hand. She’d had a week to decide whether she wanted to hear it, and she’d decided at the cattle guard before he’d finished asking, and she’d been going to stand there and let him say it. She opened her mouth first instead.

“I’m staying.”

He didn’t move.

“Past Thanksgiving. I’m staying. I called the team Thursday. I’m not going back for the season.” She put the shoes down. “And Lara asked me Tuesday, on the porch, to stay till the baby’s walking. And I said yes. Before she’d finished. I said yes before she’d gotten to the part about wages and I’ve never said yes to anything in my life before I’d read the whole page.” She looked at him. “So there. That’s mine. Whatever yours is, you can say it now, but I wanted mine on the table first, because I didn’t do it for you. I did it for a chart and a porch and a woman who made me sit down. Don’t go thinking I did it for you, Brody.”

He stood there.

“Not even a little?”

“Not even —” She stopped. Her voice gave out. “Some. Fine. Some of it,” she said, and he crossed the room.

He didn’t say his words. He got his hands on her face and his mouth on hers, and she got his shirt in both fists. It wasn’t the porch. It wasn’t the rock or the still. It was a woman who’d said yes before she’d read the page and a man who’d put his hand on her back in front of the county and left it there. She laughed into his mouth. He said, “What,” and she said, “Nothing. Get this off,” and pulled the shirt over his head.

The dress came off. He didn’t fold it. It went on the floor with his jeans. Her hair came down out of whatever she’d done to it at six that morning. He put her on the bed with the window open and the lights from the yard coming in, and she said, “Not the lamp. The yard,” and he said, “The yard,”

“Dean’s going to hear us.”

“Dean’s got two kids and a wife who took my shoes. Dean can mind his business.” She pushed him over onto his back and got on top of him.