The word seemed to catch Jaylen’s attention.
Wendell noticed that.
“Engines are systems. Companies are systems. Power grids are systems. People, too, sometimes.” He paused, remembering the boy’s words. “Most broken things are one bad connection away from working again, right?”
Jaylen looked at him then, really looked at him.
For a second, the dirt road disappeared between them. The expensive watch on Wendell’s wrist, the dust on Jaylen’s slides, the SUV, the grocery bag, all of it became background noise.
Then Jaylen reached down and picked up the bag.
“I need to get home,” he said.
Wendell nodded, as if he had expected that answer.
“Let me drive you.”
Jaylen’s shoulders tightened.
“It’s not far.”
“It’s hot enough to cook breakfast on the hood of this car.”
“I’m used to it.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
Jaylen studied him again, weighing the danger of kindness from a stranger against the distance home and the medicine in the bag. Finally, he gave one small nod.
“All right,” he said. “But just to the turn by Miller Creek. Mama doesn’t like people coming up unexpected.”
Wendell opened the passenger door.
Jaylen hesitated before climbing in. His greasy hands hovered above the cream leather seat.
