Chapter 2.3

“Yeah?” Tate said. “Then gimmie a fiver.”

The sound of the boy’s voice reached down into the deep recesses of Wade’s brain and brought him back to awareness. He swallowed, hard, his mouth lined with cotton.

Dixie seemed to be having as much trouble as he was. “Five?” she finally said, her gaze still locked on Wade. “A soda doesn’t cost that much.”

“No,” Tate said with a snicker, “but you know how those delivery charges are. They just keep going up and up.”

Dixie finally looked away, and Wade felt suddenly new and exposed, as if she’d taken a layer of his skin with her.

“Highway robbery,” Dixie said to Tate, handing him a five from the purse in her lap. Her hand was shaking.

Good, Wade thought. At least he wasn’t the only one who felt as if lightning had just struck.

Wade watched her watch her youngest son traipse down the steps until the boy reached the ground and dashed the five yards to the concession stand. She seemed to have recovered faster and easier than he was able to.

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