Hadley & Grace(61)

They’re almost outside when Hadley stops so abruptly they nearly topple over. “You need to go,” she says.

“We are going,” Grace says, irritated.

Hadley shakes her head, and her whole body waves with it. “No. Not from here.” She uses her crutch to gesture to the room. “From us.”

“We are,” Grace hisses. “Tomorrow. Remember?”

Hadley shakes her head more adamantly. “No. Now. You need to go, now.” She starts to take the backpack off her shoulders. “I have Miles’s sweater.”

Grace stops her. “What are you talking about?”

“You need to go,” Hadley says again, still struggling to pull the strap from her shoulder while Grace pins it in place.

“Hadley, stop.”

Hadley does; then her shoulders fold forward and she starts to cry, her body hiccuping with her tears.

“What’s going on?” Grace says.

Hadley drops her chin to her chest, and her head shakes back and forth. “We’re going to get caught,” she mumbles. “I’m going to jail, so you need to go. My sister . . .” The words trail off, swallowed by her sobs as her head continues to sway.

And life begins to make sense. Hadley called her sister, and her sister no longer wants to take Skipper.

“Okay,” Grace says. “Let’s go.”

“But—”

“But nothing. The plan is still the same. Miles and I are going to split but not until tomorrow. For tonight, we’re still a team.”

“A team?” Hadley says, looking up through her wet lashes. “You and me?”

Grace rolls her eyes.

“Like Bonnie and Clyde?”

“Yeah, like Bonnie and Clyde. Now, let’s go.”

“Can I be Bonnie?”

“You can be Pinocchio for all I care—just start walking.”

She wraps her arm back around Hadley’s waist, and Hadley hops along as best she can, still sniffling but no longer distressed.

One catastrophe at a time, Grace thinks. It was one of her grandmother’s favorite sayings. She’ll deal with the next calamity after she gets through this one.

The cold air slaps them as they step onto the porch, a welcome relief as Grace sweats from the effort of lugging Hadley. She squints into the darkness to see Skipper beside the truck and Miles in his car seat on the ground beside him.

She wonders why he’s not inside with Mattie. But only for a second. Her eyes follow her ears to squint into the darkness at a trio of men who have Mattie cornered at the edge of the parking lot. Mattie giggles uncomfortably, and Grace knows that laugh: it’s the same laugh she’s given when trying to get out of a tight spot without panicking.

One of the men has his arm draped over Mattie’s shoulders, and another stands menacingly close.

Grace steps toward them, forgetting she is holding Hadley, and nearly sends them both tumbling down the steps.

“Stay here,” she says, unwrapping Hadley’s arm from her shoulder and handing her the second crutch.

As Grace walks across the asphalt, her disbelief and anger sizzle as she realizes the three idiots surrounding Mattie are the same bikers who cut in front of her at the gas station three days ago. The fourth biker is to the side, the one who went into the minimart and came out with the doughnuts. He leans against his motorcycle sipping a beer. When he sees her, he tips an imaginary hat. She ignores him, her eyes tight on Mattie.

Mattie sees her and shifts, and the man holding her turns. He tightens his grip, and Grace stops.

“Get your hands off my daughter” cuts through the air behind her, and Grace turns to see Hadley drunkenly crutch-hopping down the steps.

“Whoa, momma,” the biker says; then he pulls Mattie closer so he now has her in almost a choke hold, the crook of his elbow around her neck, which forces her to bend. Mattie looks up at Grace, her eyes rounded with fear. “Hey, I know you,” he says to Grace. “Where do I know you from?”

Grace is about to say something about leather pants and venereal diseases when, behind her, a gunshot ruptures the air.

Grace whirls to see Hadley holding Frank’s gun in the air like she is starting a race. “I said, get your hands off my daughter.”

“Hadley—” Grace starts, but that’s as far as she gets before the gun fires again.

Grace ducks, and the bikers dive. The one who was leaning against his bike scurries behind it. The two that had been beside the one holding Mattie crawl army-style on their bellies toward a car. And the one who had been holding Mattie now cowers behind a log.

Mattie stands frozen, staring at her mom. Grace grabs her hand and yanks her forward. “Go!” she says, propelling her toward the truck.

“Don’t fuck with me!” Hadley roars, waving the gun in the air.

Heart ricocheting in her chest, Grace walks toward her and takes the gun from her hand. “Get in the truck,” she says, retrieving Hadley’s crutches from the ground and handing them to her.

Hadley hobbles away, still mumbling about not fucking with her.

Grace follows, walking backward with the gun panning in front of her. She has no idea if the bikers are armed, but she’s not taking any chances. The bikers behind the car and log stay hidden. The one behind the motorcycle stands with his hands in the air.