“Fish and wildlife protection.”
I waited for him to scoff, to tell me I was making a mistake. He stayed quiet for a few minutes.
The longer the silence persisted, the more confident I felt about my decision. I said it aloud and it felt damn good. I’d be making a difference in a career that sounded a hell of a lot more interesting than stacking Post-it notes.
He chewed on the inside of his cheek and studied me, probably wondering if this was another half-assed attempt at picking a career. “Is this what you want?”
“Yes.” And this time I was damn positive. The best I’d felt about my future since I started college.
“And you’re willing to give up a sure thing for this?”
“Yes.” It was a nice change of pace to finally be sure of something. So sure, that it was worth the risk to stay here in Spring Hill, even if I didn’t have a job lined up.
Dad pushed back from the table. I thought maybe he’d taken offense to what I said and was going to either go into a tirade or disappear into his office and give me the cold shoulder. Instead, he walked over to where I was seated and clapped a hand on my back. “Good to hear that word from you.”
“I have an interview next week. Up at Humboldt.”
He beamed down at me. An actual smile was coming from him. Fuck, it felt so good that I grinned back at him. “That’s great. We’ll need to get you a new suit.”
“Yeah, maybe my boss can give me a raise.”
“Not likely.” He ruffled my hair. “But I think your old man can spare a few dollars.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
He gave my shoulder a quick squeeze.
My phone buzzed on the table and I grabbed it, praying it was Jules returning my calls.
I frowned as I read a text from Blake.
B: What the fuck happened?
Great. Jules must have told Payton. And Payton probably wanted to castrate me.
“Is everything okay?” Dad moved across the room, probably on his way to his office.
“I have to figure some stuff out with Blake. Thanks for the talk.”
“Anytime. And Ryan?” He stopped in the doorway of the kitchen.
I looked up from my phone. “Yeah?”
“I’m glad you’re staying in Spring Hill.”
“Me, too.” Hopefully I wouldn’t be eating my words if I didn’t get that internship.
Once Dad left the room, I focused back on the text from Blake.
R: Meet at Dod’s in an hour?
B: Yeah.
After parking my car, I made my way into Dod’s. For a Monday it was pretty packed, mostly college students still on summer break. Blake was already up at the bar, sitting on a stool, a beer in hand. I slid onto the one next to him and ordered a Jack and Coke. The bartender was a brunette who gave me a sexy smile when she passed me the drink. The old Ryan would have flirted, gotten her number, maybe more. Current Ryan wanted to bang his head against the bar because all he could think about was a certain girl in an Office Jax uniform.
The one who should be eating dinner with me right now, laughing at my stupid jokes.
After downing half my drink, I explained the situation to him.
Blake let out a low whistle. “Damn, that sucks.” He took a sip of beer. “Maybe it’ll just blow over.”
I turned to him, almost knocking my drink off the counter. “How can you say that? She thinks I used her.”
He shrugged. “Then show her you didn’t.”
Fucking Captain Obvious over there. Hard to show someone that you don’t just think they’re a piece of ass when they wouldn’t even let you speak to them. “How?”
“What would make her believe you care?”
It was more than that, though. I didn’t just care—I loved her. Everything about her. The way my heart rate doubled when she smiled at me, the way she scrunched her nose when she was dishing out shit, the way she made me a better man. Fuck. I turned into a complete sap. I told myself that I wouldn’t fall for a girl again, that opening my heart would destroy me. Jules wasn’t even to blame for this. It was all my fault that I screwed things up.
I downed the rest of my drink. Think, you idiot. What would Peach want? What would make her believe this wasn’t just a game to me? She’d want you to show her you love her, you moron. She’d want to know that what we had was real, that I did it because I wanted to, not because a magazine told me to. Not because I was using her for a good time.
A Queen song blared through the bar, and Blake started humming to the tune. Everyone in the bar was either singing along or bobbing their heads to the music. But all I could think about was how Peach’s eye would tick and she’d want to shut off the song as fast as possible.
“This song never gets old,” Blake yelled over the music.
“Peach hates it.” And then it dawned on me. I knew so much about her, her likes, her favorite foods, her dreams, her loathing of that fucking music station at Office Jax. It gave me an idea.
Blake turned to me, confused. “Who’s Peach?”