29. Rory
Rory
My breath catches in my throat as I read through the messages I missed while I was sleeping. The last one has me shaking my head, trying to put the piees together.
BEAUTY QUEEN SUPPORT GROUP
Nate
I’ll let you all know. Thanks for your support.
I’m just not sure I’m going to go through with this whole thing.
There’s a lot to sort out here—apparently my brother really does have a cat—but the main issue is clear.
Nate is considering backing out of the pageant.
I know he initially got roped into this whole pageant thing by Dad, but he was starting to seem almost happy about it. Like he was getting back into town events, enjoying being part of the community.
Nate doesn’t talk about it much, even with me, but he started to distance himself after his dad died. He might have thought he was being subtle. It wasn’t, though. Not to High Lonesome lifers like my parents.
It was one of Mom’s requests even, before she died. Don’t let Nate drift away again. This town is part of his life. Keep it that way.
Is the pageant serious? No, not really. It’s kind of a tongue-in-cheek thing. Most of the events we hold in High Lonesome are silly, at least to outsiders. I mean, it’s hard to take a town event seriously when you label it the Drunken Mule Festival.
But every single one of these silly events has a purpose.
Some of them celebrate our heritage.
Some raise money—for the town, the schools, and everything else that exists here outside of tourist season.
Other events are just designed to bring in tourist dollars to pad High Lonesome’s bottom line.
The point is, though, these events are a part of us.
This town is more than just the land, and it’s more than just the people.
To an outsider, the pageant might seem like just another one of our off-the-wall festivities. Something to keep High Lonesome busy, to make us forget how isolated we are, and to amuse ourselves through the long, cold winter. But it’s so much more than that.
And I’ll be damned if Nate is going to back away from this part of his life.
I type out a text, adding my own thoughts to the group chat.
BEAUTY QUEEN SUPPORT GROUP
Rory
Nate is absolutely competing in this pageant. Don’t you dare use me as an excuse.
Dylan
There’s my sis. How are you feeling?
Rory
I’m fine.
Nate
You’re supposed to be resting.
There’s no way I’m resting now, though.
When Nate agreed to compete in the pageant, I thought it was a bad idea. Then I thought it was kind of funny.
After the first two events, though, with Nate solidly in the lead? This pageant is the only thing on my radar. And I’ll be damned if my man isn’t going to win.
“Rory?” Nate’s voice comes from the direction of the kitchen. “Are you awake?”
“I’m awake,” I answer just as he appears in the doorway.
Obviously. How else would I be texting?
He crosses to me and sits on the edge of the coffee table facing me, his legs spread wide around mine.
Gaze softening, he reaches out and tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “How are you feeling?”
“Good.” I move my arms and legs experimentally. The fog of the painkillers has waned a little more. I’m not completely clear-headed, but it’s better than earlier, and I’m not in any pain. “What’s happening with the pageant?”
Nate pushes a hand through his hair, then crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t know, babe. It just seems like a lot right now, especially with everything that’s going on. You know?”
I shake my head. “I think you should do it. It’s not just a silly town event, Nate. This town is part of you. Of us.”
He lifts a brow. “I mean, that might be romanticizing the whole thing a bit. Mostly the pageant is just a way to raise money and to laugh at our neighbors.”
In some ways, he’s not wrong. But for some reason I can’t explain, it feels right to have him do this, to throw himself whole-heartedly into a town event. To stand up there in front of our friends and neighbors and prove that he’s not just part of High Lonesome.
He’s Mister High Lonesome.
Plus, I think I’d like being known as Mr. Lonesome’s fiancée.
“Please, Nate?” I ask. “I know Dad kind of roped you into this. But…”
I hesitate, wondering how much I should share. I don’t want it to come across as a guilt trip. But he deserves to know everything. And we promised. No more secrets.
This isn’t really a secret, I suppose, or at least it isn’t really mine. It’s something that’s on my mind, though, so Nate deserves to know.
“What is it?” Nate asks, his forehead creasing.
“It’s Mom. She asked me to make sure you didn’t pull away. To make sure you kept seeing this town as part of your life. Part of your family.”
His expression softens. “Really?”
I shrug. “She wasn’t specifically talking about the pageant or any one town event, but it meant a lot to her. She saw how you pulled back after your dad passed away. She said it was like the light went out of you for a while. She didn’t want you to lose it again.”
“I didn’t realize anyone noticed,” he murmurs.
“They did, and they remember. This town loves you, Nate. So many people are rooting for you in this pageant. And…”My next reason seems selfish, all of a sudden, and I wonder if I should even mention it.
“And what?”
No secrets.
“And…it kind of means a lot to me, too. You know? This is the first year Dad isn’t going to be competing, and the fact that he asked you to step in… I feel like it means something. Like he’s trusting you as part of our family.”
“Or just that Dylan said no,” Nate says, the corner of his lips lifting into a smile.
“Pretty sure Dad knows better than to ask Dylan. Can you imagine Dylan doing some of these crazy antics?” The thought makes me giggle.
I love my brother, but we’re opposites in so many ways. He’s serious, almost stern, a far cry from the goofy big brother I knew when I was little. The demeanor serves him well as a high school principal, though.
It’s reassuring to know that he’s there, like a rock that supports our family, strong and sure. I just can’t picture that rock doing karaoke or auctioning off a date with himself.
Nate tilts his head. “You know, I think there’s more to Dylan than he shows. He plays his cards close to the vest.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
With just about anyone, Dylan is the first to ask about their life. What’s new, what they need. He’s always ready to offer his support.
But talking about himself? Never.
He’s never even told me anything about anyone he’s dated. I’m sure he’s had opportunity. He’s not bad-looking, I guess, although it skeeves me out to think of my brother that way. I feel like he’d be practically engaged before he brought a woman home to meet the family.
Nate opens his mouth to answer, but before he can speak, there’s a knock at the door. Ollie perks his ears up, but doesn’t move from his bed in the corner.
And then…silence. It makes me miss Spam, the way he usually announces guests with his high-pitched barking.
We’ve tried to get him to stop because we don’t need a four-alarm alert for the mail carrier. But now it seems too quiet without Spam’s contribution.
I miss that little guy.
“Speak of the devil,” Nate says, standing. “I think that’s Dylan at the door. He was going to stop by to talk about the pageant and see how you’re doing. And to bring us pizza.”
If he’s here to discuss the pageant, that means Nate hasn’t officially decided to drop out of the pageant. And that means I have time to convince him.
It also means that I can focus on the incoming dinner. I hope Dylan brought buffalo chicken pizza. Just the thought makes my mouth water.
Rotisserie chicken, buffalo sauce, mozzarella cheese, and red onions. Heaven in a cardboard box. The onions are what puts it over the top, if you ask me. Plus, they put celery on the side, so you get credit for eating vegetables, too.
With the promise of spicy chicken pizza fueling me, I settle back against the couch pillows, and Nate hands me a blanket. I tuck it around my body and pull one edge up to my chin.
Nate kisses my forehead. “You good?”
I nod and snuggle into the couch. “Perfect.”
He winks, then heads toward the front door, but pauses with his hand on the knob.
“Hey,” he says, looking back at me. “If you need me to kick them out, you just let me know. No questions asked. Got it?”
“Thanks,” I say softly.
From where I’m sitting, I have a partial view of Nate as he opens the door, so I get a good look at our visitors once they fully step inside.
“Hey, Rory,” Dylan says.
He toes off his shoes just inside the door.
I can’t see them from here, but knowing him, they’re probably the same pair of Ariat boots he wears for everything, even though the man has never sat on a horse. I once asked why he even owned cowboy boots, and he looked at me like I was crazy.
“They’re comfortable,” he said, and that was apparently enough for him.
“Rory!” Allie screeches. Her booted feet echo as she runs to the living room, skipping right over the mat that holds multiple pairs of shoes. “Oh my god. I’m so glad you’re okay. You’re okay, right? How are you feeling? Tell me all the details. Do you need anything?”
I laugh as her questions pour out in a stream of consciousness. She’s heard everything through texts and even a phone call, but Allie never trusts anything until she sees it with her own two eyes.
“I’m fine, Allie. I just need a hug. I missed you.”
“Same.” Allie plops down next to me on the couch. She tugs the blanket over so it covers both of us, then wraps her arms around me. “I love you, Rory. You’re like the sister I never had.”
“You have a sister.” My voice is muffled against her shoulder.
“Not the point.” She finally breaks the hug but keeps one arm around my shoulder. “Besides, you’re here and my sister is in Denver, so you win.”
“How are you feeling?” Dylan asks, two pizza boxes balanced on one hand. “Think you’re up to walking to the kitchen? Or should we eat in here?”
“Eat here,” Allie says at the same time that I say, “Kitchen.”
“Kitchen it is,” Dylan says.