Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 117415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
I wonder for a split second when Billy had time to text Bobby. Or why. Then I remind myself both of them are married to Strong boys—Tanner and Jimmy—and like to commiserate over that fact every chance they get. The Strong family are handfuls, every last one of them, and it’s likely all thanks to their wild-haired cannon of a matriarch Nadine, who as it so happens is also Mayor. But judging from their respective husbands, their joy is worth every second of their mayhem. I grew up attending dang near every one of their parties on their ranch and can attest to how addictive and wonderful their whirlwind can be at times. So trust me, I get it. If I hadn’t been spending my falls and springs outside of Spruce, I’d probably be with a Strong myself if they had some secret younger brother no one knows about who also happens to be into guys.
“Hate to trouble you,” Bobby goes on, “but if you’re not busy and Billy hasn’t sent you on some errand, could I get your advice on something? Jimmy’s stuck on one of his whack-a-doo ideas and I’m trying to talk him out of it.”
I’m hallucinating the ticking of clocks.
My mother’s harsh eyes when I finally come home.
My dad’s soft yet soul-eviscerating sigh of disappointment.
“Yeah, I got a minute,” I say, because my other middle name is dude-who-never-says-no, and I come around to hear Bobby out.
I hear him out for over forty minutes.
Then I’m helping him lug surprisingly heavy boxes of labels, stickers, flyers, and other printed merchandise onto his truck.
Then I’m by his side at the Strong Fitness Zone to check out a new machine they got. Four new machines. And I poke my head into a hip-hop dance class Bobby’s husband Jimmy is in the middle of instructing (he doesn’t see me and I don’t make myself known, not wanting to interrupt). And then at Bobby’s insistence, I try out a new water-bottle-filling station they put in, only to succeed in drenching my shirt, which causes us to double over in laughter—after Bobby explodes into apologies first, of course.
My stomach sinks when I leave the gym to find the sun nearly on the other side of town. I don’t even look at my phone. No calls or texts anyway. I can’t bear to know how late I am now, only that there’s no use rushing home; we’re well into the evening now.
I’m on the long road that curves through the countryside out to my house, light woods on the left, farmlands to the right, and the town at my back. At this time of day, it really strikes you, the view of the sky cracking over the trees, how the sun at this angle sets everything aglow in a way nothing up north can do. Even the fields of wheat are a sea of gold you could swim through. The cows chewing cud in the summer air look happy to be alive—as happy as any grumpy-faced cow can be, I guess. Horses in the pasture, huddled next to one another under the shade of the biggest tree, two younger ones trotting around appearing playful. An hourglass pond sparkling in the angled sunlight, a family of ducks wetting their beaks and feathers in its water. Long wooden fences barely held together by nothing but twine and a little love, looking less like enclosures and more like loving reminders to the animals to stay off the scary roads.
It’s amazing how much of this you forget with just a few short months away at school … and how fast it seeps right back under your skin like it always belonged there.
Bobby’s laughter still rings in my ears.
My shirt is still damp from our shenanigans.
And I’d probably be smiling about it all right now if I wasn’t dreading what I’m going home to.
After I park my car and head through the door, intent on just sneaking up to my room, Mom’s voice catches me like the chirp of an alarm siren from the kitchen. “TJ, there you are!”
I stop, dazed by her cheery tone of voice, and face her.
She smiles and waves me over. “Just in time for dinner! Your father will have to warm up a plate later. I made some lemon-herb chicken with veggies, nearly done. Doesn’t it smell just heavenly? I hope you’re hungry!”
My stomach literally growls on cue. Starving.
“Wash your hands,” she says, then squints at me. “And maybe change your shirt? You look a bit road-worn, sweetie.”
Bewildered, I obey. I change into a shirt that doesn’t smell like chlorine, vanilla, and yoga mats. Wash my hands. Splash water on my face. Wince at that finger I stubbed helping Professor Patel.
Suddenly I think of AJ on the road right now, stuffed into a car next to the love of his life, who still gazes off, aloof and beautiful, pretending not to notice his crushing infatuation.