Chapter 12
Picnicking with Ellie and Marjorie was becoming a semi-regular event. Today, they’d opted to take their lunch to the petrified forest. Marjorie was lying on her blanket, kicking her feet in the sun, and he and Ellie were sitting on their blanket, eating their sandwiches.
“It’s the strangest thing, Ellie,” he said. “We’ve seen each other in crisis mode all the time. And now we’re seeing each other in parenting mode. What did you do in the years between all of that?”
“I went to school,” she said. “Had a couple of failed relationships.”
“You mentioned the man baby.”
She laughed. “Yes. There was the man baby. I had a boyfriend in college who was far more interested in binge drinking than studying, which was weird because when I met him, he seemed like kind of a nerd. But eventually he figured out that if he drank enough, people were happy to have him at parties. And that was the direction he went. And that’s pretty much it. ”
“What about teaching?”
“Oh, I started at a private school. It was interesting, but not for me, ultimately.”
“Why not?”
“Oh, nothing specific. It was fine. I was part of the living rosary.”
“You … you’re not Catholic.”
“No. But the school was. It’s a fun one to use in Two Truths and a Lie.”
“I bet.”
“The thing I love the most is connecting with kids. Getting them excited about reading. So the best teaching positions I’ve had were at schools that were willing to let me choose books that would get the kids interested in reading.
That often meant graphic novels and books by younger, diverse authors with different worldviews.
Kids get tired of reading the same dusty books.
I love the classics, but I believe you have to mix them in with more contemporary literature so that kids understand that there are books for everyone.
And that books can be written by people who look like them.
People who think like them. And even more importantly, people who don’t think like them.
Because everyone has the freedom to write and express their views on things.
And if you read something, and you really don’t like it, you can write your own book.
Add your ideas to the conversation. We always need more information, not less. ”
“You’re a radical,” he said.
“I’m a literature teacher. I should be a radical. By definition.”
“All right. I like that.”
“What about you? What have you been doing during all the in-between?”
“Winning championships, mostly. There was one year when I had a pretty gnarly injury. I think we saw each other. It was the night we were down at that honky-tonk in Albany. When I was trying to get Ty out, he threw a punch at me and hit me, because I was extra slow since I had broken ribs.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that.”
“I didn’t want to advertise it. But anyway.
Yeah. I won a lot, invested a lot, because in careers like mine, you have to.
Your body doesn’t want to get thrown around like that forever.
Being in rodeo is like being any professional athlete.
You know you’re not doing it forever, and you have to figure out where your money is going to come from in the future. So I did that.”
“You mentioned before that you had endorsements.”
“Yeah. Western apparel–focused, so probably not something you saw.”
“Wait. Are you telling me you were modeling?”
He narrowed his eyes. “They were endorsement deals. Sponsorships.”
“But you posed in ads for them.”
“Yes,” he said.
“I guess that’s where being dangerously handsome gets really useful.”
He laughed. “Well. Only if you’re winning.”
Right then, he had the urge to ask if she really thought he was handsome. It mattered.
He wished that it didn’t.
“Why rodeo, though?”
“Because when you do that, you’re connected to your body.
You get a rush, but you don’t need any substances.
I’m not an adrenaline junkie. What I like about it is the clarity.
The full experience of being present in your body in that moment.
It’s not like anything else. And it reminds me of who I am every time. ”
“Were you ever worried about what your life was going to look like when you didn’t have that anymore?”
“A little. That’s why I made plans to run this ranch. It’s why I had the house built, I suppose.”
“You suppose?”
“It’s just such a big house for one person.”
“Well, now you have two extra people.”
He looked at her, his heart going tight, certainty taking hold of him.
Yeah. There were two other people. Living with her for the last couple months had been good. It had given him an immense feeling of peace. And having her there with Marjorie was … That was family. They were family.
He wanted her.
Yes, it was risky. Because if they tried, and they didn’t succeed, where would that leave this little family?
One thing he knew about her, the same thing he knew about himself, was that they fought to do the right thing.
They had done it over and over again where their siblings were concerned. They would do it for Marjorie too.
So maybe they didn’t need to hold back. Maybe he didn’t need to.
Maybe he could have this.
Her. In the way he’d always wanted.
The very idea made his blood run hotter. Faster.
Yeah. He loved this domestic life. But he wanted something more. He wanted to explore the passion he felt with her. The heat he felt simmering between them every time there was a quiet moment. Like this one.
He wanted to touch her. But somehow, he knew this wasn’t quite the right moment.
He could wait. Hell. He’d been waiting all this time. But one thing was sure. He wanted her.
And he was going to claim her.
Make her his wife.
God.
He loved her.
That realization was like an arrow being driven straight through his chest.
He loved her.
This wasn’t a crush. It wasn’t simple lust.
It had been her from the beginning. Every time he’d seen her. Even when she was angry at him.
It was her strength, her integrity, that drew him. Everything she was.
Her beauty called to his body. Everything she was called to his soul.
He had loved her all this time.
And now he just needed to wait for the right moment. The moment when she would be able to return his love.