Page 69 of Never His Girl
“Shit,” I whisper, eyeing the familiar pickup parked just outside.
“Who the fuck is that?” West asks groggily.
“Someone you don’t want to cross paths with,” I answer, already rushing toward my bedroom door. “Wait here. Like, seriously. Don’t come out.”
West glares, trying to process the grim warning I’ve just given, but I don’t have time to stick around for him to respond.
Scar and I nearly collide when we rush out of our bedrooms and into the hallway, both trudging toward the living room. I make it to the front door first, and snatch it open, meeting Uncle Dusty’s stoic gaze.
“Morning,” I say warily, unsure what has him here so early.
“Morning, Kiddo,” he says sweetly, the tone of his voice coming nowhere near matching the fury with which he just nearly beat down our door.
My gaze shifts over his shoulder, to the badass muscle car parked out front. It sticks out like a sore thumb in this neighborhood, but I can only hope my uncle doesn’t know it belongs to someone inside this house.
Especially West.
Needless to say, he’s not exactly a fan of the guy after our little video went viral.
“I’ll only be a minute,” Uncle Dusty says next, confusing me when he grabs something he’s propped against the house.
“A door?” I ask, frowning.
“Yup,” is all he says. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta take care of something before heading down to the diner. The girls can only hold down the fort for so long without me.”
He pushes past me and Scar, but when I glance at her, she doesn’t look nearly as confused as me.
“What did you do?” I mouth silently.
Instead of actual words leaving her mouth, she looks scared shitless.
We follow Uncle Dusty toward the hallway, where he stops in front of Mike’s bedroom. He props the door he carried in beside him, resting it against the wall. Then, without warning, he slams the sole of his large boot intoMike’sdoor, nearly kicking the thing right off the hinges. It flies open, hitting my dad right in his ass.
“Get the fuck up, Mike,” Dusty yells. “On your feet.”
Mike groans, but doesn’t move much. He’s pretty much in the same position as when Scar and I dumped him here. He sure as hell smells the same.
“We’re taking a little trip,” Uncle Dusty announces. “Turns out, there’s a nice little state-funded facility for shitbags like you, and lucky for your girls, they’ve got room for your sorry ass.”
Next thing I know, before I can even ask a question, Dusty wraps Mike in a faded, blue tarp, then grabs him by both hands to drag him back toward the front door. He stops there, taking a breath before parading my gem of a father down the sidewalk to his truck.
“He’ll be gone for at least a month,” Uncle Dusty announces. “Blue-Jay, I know you’re eighteen, but if you need me to pack up and stay with you girls until then, I’ll do it in a heartbeat.”
Tears blur my vision, but they’re not the kind you’d expect from a girl watching her father getting hauled away like this. They’re tears of relief. Tears of joy, knowing Scar and I will have one less burden to bear for a while. Even if the treatment doesn’t stick, even if it took Mike getting shitfaced on Thanksgiving to make it happen.
“We’ll be fine,” I assure him.
He eyes me a second, then nods. “I’ll be back after the diner closes to fix the door. See you in a couple hours for your shift.”
He’s so casual about it, I smile a little.
“Yep, see ya.”
Scar and I stand there a moment, as do a few of our neighbors, listening to Mike groan as he’s hoisted into the bed of our uncle’s truck. He’s never gotten clean before, but I can’t help but to hope someone’s able to get him the help he needs.
Dusty pulls off and Scar tries to jet out of the living room as I lock up.
“Hold it,” I call out. “What’d you do?”