Ever the Same Read Free Page B

scrape of the milk carton against the counter.
    “I don’t know, to be honest. I haven’t since I was little. I used to dunk Oreos.”
    “Oh, we should get lots of different cookies and try.”
    “Should we?” His scientific little girl. He had a feeling science fairs would be a hoot later in her life. “I think we should maybe get one cookie a week, huh? Not so much sugar that way.”
    “You need two to ’pare.”
    “To ’pare?” He carefully poured the milk.
    “Uh-huh. Pappy says you put one against the other. Joy the llama is nicer than Ben the llama. You ’pare.”
    “Oh. Com-pare, baby.”
    “Oh. Compare.” He could hear the serious look on her baby face. God, he missed seeing her smile, watching her lips purse when she did something new.
    For the thousandth time this week, Dixon gave thanks that Randi had been at the babysitter’s, that it had been them alone in the car. Ron had been killed instantly, and he was grateful for that.
    “Daddy, stop pouring.”
    He pulled back. “Did I make it?”
    “You did good.” She mopped up his spill so quietly, but he still heard it.
    “Okay. Cookies. Milk. Let’s sit and dunk.”
    “Yay!” She tugged out the stools and they sat, carefully dunking cookies in milk.
    She didn’t chatter much, and he sort of lost track of time, sitting there, daydreaming. He lost a cookie once and had to drink chunky milk by the end. Yuck . Now he remembered why he didn’t dunk cookies.
    Still, Randi seemed happy, and she was more than willing to sit and watch cartoons while he sat on the sofa and tried not to freak out about everything.
    When he heard Dalton come home, he was truly grateful for the distraction.
    “Hey, Bro. Hey, monkey girl!”
    Randi squealed as she disappeared off the sofa. “Uncle D! Uncle D!”
    Letting them act like it had been days since they’d seen each other, he leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes.
    I miss you, Ron. What am I gonna do now?
    How was he going to raise a little girl when he couldn’t shave himself? He’d never been one for self-pity, but he was just damned scared.
    “Quit fretting big brother. I’m home to….”
    “To what?” He swore, if Dalton said take care of him—
    “Help out.” Dalton clapped him on the shoulder, making him jump. “Dad texted. He’s stuck in Royse City picking up llamas. He’ll be home closer to five.”
    Dixon rolled his eyes. “Dad can text?”
    “Maybe the llamas did!” Randi said. “Uncle D and I can make supper.”
    More hot dogs. Yay. “I thought Gran was making fried chicken.”
    “Oh gag.” Dalton wasn’t helping.
    “Right. Gag.”
    Randi made retching noises, and Dixon swatted at his brother, connecting with one leg, fingers catching in the holey denim strings. “You’re not helping, Uncle D .”
    “I want pizza, man. Let’s go grab a couple at the Pizza Hut and bring them back.”
    Dixon chuckled at his baby brother. “You spend all your money on pizza.”
    “Nah, I spent all my cash on girls. I spend all your money on pizza.”
    “No shit. You call Mom and tell her to eighty-six the chicken, and I’ll go with you.”
    “Daddy, you said a bad word.”
    “Uh-huh. I know lots.” He could outcurse Dalton, had, in fact, the second night he’d spent in his folks’ house. It had been fucking amazing.
    “Come on, guys. I’ll call the parental units and tell them to have dinner out like grownups.”
    Dixon tilted his head. “No date tonight?”
    “Nah. Not tonight. Me and Joanna, we went after it, so I’m just letting it go for a couple days.”
    “Ouch.” The vagaries of seventeen. “Just promise you’ll drive us slow and safe.” Dixon got a little white-knuckled in the car.
    “Dude. Don’t be a pussy.”
    “Daddy, what’s a pussy?”
    “A cat.” Their mom came in, and he heard her whap Dalton on the head. “I can drive if you need me to. Where are we going?”
    “Why would Daddy be a cat?”
    “Mom! I can drive!”
    “Gran!”
    “You can not.