I don’t want to be down here, so close to where Savvy was, but all I can manage is to sit up, butt in the dirt.
“Hey. Lucy. Look at me.” Ben is on his knees next to me, one hand on my back and the other on my arm, like he’s worried I’m going to fall over.
I mean, I guess that’s fair.
“Are you okay?”
He’s full of stupid questions today.
“Can you … I don’t know what to do. Should I call an ambulance?” He’s already got his phone out. I catch sight of the microphone, on the ground not far away.
I shake my head.
“Do you want some water?”
I shake my head again.
“Jesus. I’m sorry.” He speaks softly, and his hand goes a little firmer on my arm. “I’m so sorry.”
I blink twice. A breeze ruffles his hair, and it provides a tiny moment of relief from the heat.
“For what?” I ask.
He looks startled. “For bringing you out here. For pressing you.”
His expression is soft, like he’s found a wounded puppy to take care of, and I don’t like it. I pull my arm away and slowly get to my feet. He reaches out to make sure I’m steady but doesn’t touch me again.
I turn away. “I’m going back to the car.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
LUCY
Ben doesn’t take me back to the hotel.
I don’t realize where we are until he turns onto the road, and I can see the tiny house up ahead. Grandma steps out as he slows to a stop, hands on her hips.
“What are we doing here?” I ask.
He unbuckles his seat belt. “I didn’t want to just leave you alone after that, and your parents are assholes.”
“Wow, tell me how you really feel, Ben.”
He gives me a look like “you know it’s true,” and I almost laugh. I hate how delighted I am that he thinks my parents are assholes.
I need a drink. At least we’ve come to the right place for that.
“I texted Beverly and she said to come over.” He steps out of the car.
I follow him, wondering how often he’s texting my grandma, and how many times he’s been out here. He knows my parents are assholes, and he’s chummy with my grandma. He already knows so much more than I ever wanted him to.
“Murdering your husband can be our secret,” Savvy whispers. “But then you’re stuck with me for life. There’s no dumping a friend once you’ve committed a felony together.”
Grandma waggles a finger at Ben. “I told you.”
He lifts both hands in surrender. “I know.”
I trudge toward her. My legs are heavy. “What’d you tell him?”
“That you’re not as tough as you act.” Her dress today is white with yellow daisies, and there’s a small reddish-brown stain on one boob that is probably red wine, but my first thought is blood. Savvy giggles in my head.
“Hey.” I mean to sound insulted, but it comes out tired.
“Did you eat anything besides sugar today?” Grandma asks, like I’m still ten years old.
I consider. “Not really.”
“Come on. What do you like on your pizza, Ben?”
* * *
An hour later, when I’m full of sausage and mushroom pizza, the world feels steady again. Grandma made me a vodka tonic, and I think the pleasant buzz is the only thing keeping me from feeling the full embarrassment of fainting on Ben earlier.
We’re sitting on her porch in creaky plastic chairs, a fan blowing hot air around us as the sun sets. Grandma emerges from the house with two drinks. She hands one to Ben.
“You getting any writing done in between all this?” She sits down, propping her feet up on the grungy wicker ottoman as she sips her drink.
“Not really. I haven’t felt much like writing happy people in love.”
“But you’re so good at it!” She reaches over and whacks Ben’s shoulder. “Isn’t she?”
“You are.” He glances at me with a half-smile. He’s on his second drink （and Grandma pours them strong）， legs stretched out in front of him, fancy microphone forgotten in the car. He looks more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him, and I wonder again how many times he’s been here.
“I acted dumb when he asked me about your books, by the way,” Grandma says. “But he told me you guys talked about it.”
“I know.” I sigh. “It’s only a matter of time before it comes out.”
“Ben said he’s not telling people!”
“I’m not,” he says quickly.