Grinning, I stretch out on the bed. “Thank you. I won’t keep you. I know you’re busy.”
“Yeah, I’ll be here for a while. I’ve only gotten one step done. Nolan keeps asking me shit and it’s slowing me down. He’s so damn cute about it though I have to answer him.”
“He probably loves this time he gets to have with you. You get him so excited.”
“Everything gets Nolan excited.”
“Uncle Weed! You have to see dis!”
Reed laughs quietly. “He probably found a rock or something.”
Hearing Nolan’s anxious voice, I decide not to keep Reed. “Okay, I’ll let you go.”
“All right.”
“Reed?”
“Yeah?”
“There’s no one else I would rather be with. You know that, right?” I tell him.
“I’m not just referring to the plans on Saturday,” I don’t say.
He pauses, making me wait for his response.
After he gives it to me, I realize I would’ve waited more than nine seconds for what he tells me. Two words, that’s all, but so, so much more than just two words.
“Me too.”
Reed
CHRIST, I’M NOT READY FOR this.
I fucking should be though. It’s all I’ve thought about all week, an obsession that’s taken over every corner of my mind. I haven’t slept for shit. Work hasn’t been the distraction I’ve needed it to be. Thank God for Beth’s unreserved excitement keeping her sidetracked. She hasn’t noticed how fucking tired I look. The dark circles under my eyes, the heaviness to my steps. My worry is consuming me.
I want to be happy for her.
Fuck, I am happy for her. How can I not be?
This is Beth. My Beth. I’d do just about anything to see that unfuckingbelievable smile light up her face, and it’s been a permanent fixture all week. She can’t stop talking about her dad, what he might look like, if she resembles him in any way. She even made a list of possible questions she could ask him if they run out things to talk about. She’s so happy, so damn happy, and I want that for her. I want it more than my own happiness. Her dad is someone she should know. If they hit it off today and she chooses to pack up and leave Ruxton to go live with him in Tennessee, that’s her choice, and I won’t make her feel guilty for wanting it. I won’t put my fear of losing her before something she deserves. This isn’t about me.
This isn’t about me.
It’s about her.
Sitting in the passenger seat of my truck, wearing the same outfit she wore that day at Sal’s. Clapton, tiny denim shorts, showing off those perfect fucking legs, and the boots I’ve felt digging into my back more times than I can count. If I haven’t lived out every one of my fantasies of her wearing only those boots, I’m damn near close.
Beth picks at the polish on her thumb nail, her eyes staring blankly out the front window, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.
We’re more than halfway into our trip and she’s being unusually quiet.
I don’t want her to be nervous about this. I don’t want her to worry about anything, especially not whether this man will accept her, love her. Whether he’ll want to know this amazing woman he’s missed out on for twenty-two years. If he doesn’t, if he has no interest in being her father after spending one second with her, he’s a fucking idiot who doesn’t deserve to live. I won’t let anyone or anything else hurt Beth. Jesus fucking Christ, she’s been through enough. I also won’t let her sit next to me and worry herself sick over this shit.
I can worry enough for both of us. I can also hide it better. I’ve become a fucking master at it the past week.
Reaching across the bench seat, I grab her hand and give it a gentle squeeze. It’s the pressure that does it, the stress of our hands together that breaks her concentration off whatever it is she’s staring at right now.
“Come here,” I demand gruffly. This isn’t a request.
Her bottom lip, reddened from the bite of her teeth, presses against her slightly thinner top one as she thinks it over.
I tug her hand, urging her. “Beth.”
“But I have to wear my seatbelt,” she argues as her free hand unhooks the front clasp of the harness.
I look out the front window. “It’s mostly back roads from here on out. I mapped it that way. We won’t get pulled over, and I’m a damn good driver. You’re fine.” My eyes meet hers. “Slide over. I want you next to me.”
She pushes the straps of the harness off her shoulders. “Um, what am I supposed to do with that?”
I look down at the gear shift she’s eyeing up cautiously. Tilting my head, I grip her thigh and maneuver her across the seat. “Straddle it, sweetheart. I know how much you like having a big stick between your legs.”
Her cheeks lift as she hooks one leg over the gear shift. “Speaking of big sticks . . .”
“The answer is yes.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” she laughs, settling beside me.
God, I missed that sound. I don’t want her to ever be quiet with me.