20. Crew
“ Y ou look ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously hot,” I corrected.
“Nope. Not that.”
I picked Winnie up two hours ago to make sure we got to the airport on time. I’d shown up in cowboy boots—still with tags and already rubbing blisters on my big toe—and my promised cowboy hat. She had begged me to take it off, which only made me more determined to keep it on. Through customs and security, waiting outside our gate with luggage in tow, even while eating a bagel she snuck from the fancy lounge across the way, I kept the hat firmly on my head.
“I can’t take it off now; it’s practically sewn on.” We shuffled down the aisle to our row of seats. I grabbed Winnie’s yellow carry-on and lifted it into the overhead compartment just as she ducked below me to slide into the window seat. I couldn’t even be mad about her snagging the view, especially since her backside brushed against my waist, leaving me speechless. I dipped my hat with a cocky grin and teased, “Don’t act like you don’t like it.”
“I don’t.” She scoffed, turning to the window, watching the crowd load in behind us. “I told you, the city boy thing does it for me way more than…” she glanced back over her shoulder, waving a finger at me, or more specifically, at my hat. “...this whole look.”
“So, you’re saying I look hottest when I’m yelling at pigeons or stressed in traffic?”
She winked. “Precisely.”
“Alright, noted.” I took my hat off and placed it on her lap, covering where her skirt had ridden up a little too high. I shot her a wink in return.
Her cheeks flushed, matching the warmth in mine. I pulled out my phone, pretending like I had anything more important to do than play Spider Solitaire while she stared out the window.
The loose rhythm we had before I showed her my hideaway had shifted, replaced by something new. Something comforting, familiar, but also exciting. Exhilarating, like when she let me taste homemade whipped cream off her finger or purposefully stood under the cabinet I needed to reach, forcing me to lean over her, our bodies pressed together while we both pretended the heat wasn’t enough to burn down the whole kitchen.
Leading up to this trip, we’d been threading a fine line between friendly and something more. And while I wasn’t sure where she stood, I knew one thing for certain: I wanted Winnifred Meadows for myself. And only myself.
I had a lot to make up for from the past few years—more than she did—and despite our agreement to let all that go, I had plans to make it up to her. Somehow, someway, on this trip, I was going to show Winnie I was someone she could rely on. When we got back home, when I’d made things right, that’s when I’d offer her something more.
As soon as we took off, Winnie white-knuckled the armrests. I let my fingers trail lightly over her wrist until her grip loosened.
She’d never mentioned a fear of flying, or maybe it was just the mild turbulence, but I had this growing need to distract her.
“Okay, tell me about your family. I want all the details.”
Her fingers relaxed a little more, and I sighed in relief as she began. “Alright, there’s my grandparents—Nana and Papa. Very old-school, sometimes offensive, so just a heads-up: they might call you a city slicker or something worse.”
I snorted. “Any siblings?”
“Nope, just me, technically. But my cousins and I grew up as neighbors, so they’re basically my siblings.”
“How many are there?”
“Three who live on the ranch—Lottie, Knox, Odelia—and one more, Lawson. Oh, and Felicity. She’s not technically family, but she might as well be she’s lived with us forever. Then there are my aunts and uncles. I won’t even bother trying to catch you up on them… they’re… a lot.”
Her lack of mention of her parents made me want to push for more, but I settled for, “So, you’ve got a big family too?”
“Yup. Which is probably why I like yours so much.”
“They’re hard not to like.” My fingers continued to graze her wrist as she turned her palm up, maneuvering us into a thumb war. I let her small thumb circle mine, barely fighting back as all my focus went to the warmth of her hand around mine.
“They’re all great. It’s just kind of hard when they’re all paired up, and you’re…”
“A third wheel?”
I smiled as she pressed my thumb down in victory, then reset the game. “More like a ninth wheel.”
“Oof. That’s tough.”
“I’m happy for them all. I really like their spouses, and I love being the fun uncle. But it’s hard to explain…”
“Suffocating?” she offered, taking advantage of my pause to win another round.
“Yes.” I turned to face her more. “It’s like they all have their person, and you’re just… there.”
“Like home doesn’t feel like home anymore.”
“Exactly.”
Our thumb war gradually became our fingers tangling together, as our conversation took on the air of two adults who childishly held hands.
“Yeah, that’s part of why I left. Well, a small part. But still a reason. I felt like an outcast, even though I know it wasn’t true. But as soon as I left, I felt in my bones it was the wrong move.”
“Like you knew it wasn’t where you were supposed to go?”
I had a feeling it was exactly where she needed to go. How else could she have made it to me? How else could I be sitting here, next to her?
“Yeah… He wanted to leave town as soon as we could afford to. I thought maybe it’d be fun, exciting.”
“And it wasn’t?” I chuckled when she squeezed my hand, testing my strength.
“It was fine, I guess. But it felt wrong too. Like when you ride a roller coaster—you know it’ll be fun, but you’ll regret it afterward when you’re sore for a week.”
I pictured it for a moment: leaving. Moving somewhere foreign and fresh. But then I thought of my siblings, my parents. Working on cars with Adam, going to games with Calla, babysitting my nephews, or talking Star Wars with Luke. Just the thought of leaving felt like betrayal.
“Were they upset when you left?”
She laughed dryly. “Oh yeah. They all warned me—said it was a terrible idea, that Marshall was bad news, and I’d regret it. And they were right.”
I let my thumb brush across her palm, and she groaned softly. “Gosh, if I could talk to my younger self, I’d do so many things differently.”
I thought back over my life—over what I’d change. Only one thing came to mind. One thing that had dragged on far too long.
I pulled her hand fully into mine, lacing our fingers together. She looked up at me.
“I’m so sorry for assuming the worst about you, Winnie.”
Her head tilted, and she smiled at me—sweet and irresistible, just like everything she made.
“It’s okay, Crew. I mean it. It’s all in the past.”
“I still feel awful.”
“Well, make it up to me.”
If she only knew how badly I wanted to. How badly I wanted to erase these last few years and start fresh. Truly fresh. “How?”
“I don’t know. You’re a smart guy. You’ll figure something out.”
I snorted. “So, your grandparents and family—they know we’re coming?”
“I told them I was bringing a friend. Didn’t want to drag you into the whole fake-dating thing again.”
“They’re excited to see you?”
“Oh, definitely.” Her smile widened. “I expected them to scold me, give me the ‘I told you so,’ but instead, Nana said she’s got a peanut butter pie waiting for me, and Papa told me he loves me and misses me. He also said he’s got a lot of acreage and a shovel, just in case he needs to bury ‘that last bastard.’”
I laughed, and the older woman in front of us turned to give us a stink-eye.
“He’s my favorite already.”
“He’s everyone’s favorite. You’ll see.”
I squeezed her hand. “Honestly, I’m excited too.”
“To get out of the city or to meet them?”
“Both.” I exhaled deeply, glancing past her to the clouds and the distant land below. “And to spend time with you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I mean, now that we’re not at each other’s throats, it’s like I’m getting to know a new version of you.”
“Well, not that new. I’m still not afraid to poison your food.”
“I don’t doubt that.”
She leaned her head on my shoulder, the scent of vanilla and cinnamon filling the air around us.
“I’m excited to hang out with you too,” she said.
I smiled at that and rested my head back against hers.