Eighteen
Annabeth
It’s the night of the rodeo. Two days have passed since I’ve seen Dallas, and Billie gets home from camp tomorrow. I have absolutely no idea what’s going to happen. After the other day by the river with Dallas, I decided maybe it was best to give him some space.
Although, as I sit here and polish my boots for tonight to the sound of Ella, Hannah, and River popping bottles of wine in the kitchen, I’m not so sure…
I stop what I’m doing and reach for my phone, immediately typing Dallas’s name and waiting for the dial tone.
“Firefly,” comes his gravelly voice through the speaker. God how I have missed that voice.
“Hey, how are you doing?”
“Better now. I’ve missed you. I wanted to call but I didn’t know how you were feeling about everything.”
My jaw drops as I say, “Oh thank god. I wanted to call you, but I thought you might need some space.
“Space!” he all-but shouts. “The last fucking thing I want from you, Firefly, is space.” His deep, melodic laugh fills my speaker, and my heart.
“Don’t make me feel stupid,” I protest, despite feeling utter relief that he’s also been thinking about me.
The last time we saw each other took a toll on both of us emotionally.
Dallas opened up more about Sam on our ride back to the farm, and honestly, it made me feel even closer to him to know that he felt comfortable enough to tell me about her.
She seemed like an incredibly vibrant person, and hearing about her struggles hit close to home for me with my parents.
Dallas shared his vulnerability with me, and I know in my heart that there’s things I need to open up to him about.
I find myself thinking about Billie, she’s such a brilliant and talented little girl. I wonder if she gets it from her mother? Dallas seems to think so. I make a mental note to myself to continue supporting her and her artistic dreams, regardless of what happens between Dallas and me.
“Never stupid, baby. Will I see you at the rodeo tonight?” Dallas asks, instantly snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Of course you will, cowboy,” I confirm.
I hear him smile into the phone, and a low chuckle erupts from him as he says softly, “Can you wear the boots you wore the first time we went to Mav’s? The ones with the floral stitching? I like those ones.”
“Dallas Northlane, are you keeping tabs on my boots?” I tease.
“I have never known a woman to own so many pairs of shoes.”
“I’ll have you know that I am very fond of my shoes.”
“Of course you are, Firefly.”
“See you soon,” I tell him.
“See you soon.” As always, the way those words leave his mouth sound more like a promise than a statement.