Chapter 9
As if he hadn’t interrupted, she said again, “I’m saving up for you. Just because you don’t live in my house doesn’t mean you aren’t still my boy. Come around sometime if you get the chance, you hear?”
Stacy scowled. “Not with Cal—”
“You know his hours.” She straightened the flaps of his shirt, a plaid button-down he wore open over a faded tee. “He works days. Come by when he’s not there. And get back in school.”
Then she brushed past him into the store, her fifteen minutes up. Stacy stood on the curb and squinted into the sun, the money hot in his hand. He didn’t have to think about what she had said. He didn’t want to go back.
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