I Ran Home With My Baby to My Brother's Biker Friends, and the Three Who Tormented Me Said I Was Theirs to Guard novel · Chapter 8 of 24

Chapter 8: Five Cards

The dental office on the Hillside had the same green waiting-room chairs it had when I left, and the same plastic fern.

I had worked there for two years before Marcel moved us to Fargo.

My old boss took one look at me through the glass and unlocked the door herself, which she had never once done.

"Monday only," she said.

"I can't take you on, but I can use a hygienist for the flu rush.

"Eight to four.

"Cash."

"Yes," I said.

"I'll take it."

"Is that your baby?" she asked.

"That's my daughter," I said.

My boss looked past me.

She meant Mason.

He stood just inside the door with Zuri on his hip, in his tow-company jacket, and a diaper bag over his shoulder like a bandolier.

He looked like a boy at the wrong recital.

"A friend," I said.

"He's driving."

"Does your friend want coffee?" she asked.

"He'd love it," I said.

He drank it in the waiting room all day.

He held Zuri when she cried, fed her a bottle at noon, walked her up and down the sidewalk in the snow, and read a magazine from 2019 cover to cover.

I scraped plaque and watched him through the glass.

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