Eight

“Tyler.”

“What?” He asks, giving her a look from the side of his eyes. They are about fifteen minutes from his pack and twenty-five from his home. Since they left the motel to get back on the road, she had barely said ten words. She had not voluntarily talked at all, only answering when he asked her things.

“The baby's name. My son..” She points to him as if she has more than one child and he might not know who she is talking about, “his name is Tyler, But I call him Ty. He was named after my Pappy.”

“Yeah, I remember hearing you mention your Pappy before.”

She had told him only the good parts of her life with Pappy, never really mentioning the years of abuse. Even after that night she left home and returned to Chad with a knife wound on her shoulder. He asked, but when she kept putting off answering, he took the hint and never mentioned it again.

“Chad.”

“Yes?”

“What did you mean last night when you said after all the stuff with my dad and how Adam had bought most of my old p