“All right.”
Joe extended his hand. “Have a safe trip and don’t buy the boys anything too big.”
I laughed. Like I could buy anything bigger than the stuff in that toy-store basement of theirs. “I will. Thanks again.”
The moment I stepped out onto the front porch, I opened the envelope. Inside were lots of drawings from Jacob and Tyler, a picture of me and my brothers, and then a copy of the picture of my parents. I remembered this picture. I’d taken it after Mom and Dad handed over the key to the first resident of the Habitat neighborhood. The memory made me smile. Carrie and Joe weren’t the devil. They were people who loved my brothers and had hearts big enough to possibly love me, too.
I pulled out my cell phone and texted Carrie: thanks.
Seconds later she texted back: welcome. b safe.
Across the street, Echo sat on the hood of her gray Honda Civic. Her red curls shone in the street light and her spaghetti-strapped tank top dipped just low enough that my mind already wondered how I could get her to deviate from the plan of driving at least six hours tonight before setting up the tent.
Her siren smile lit up my world. “Noah.”
“Echo. You look …” I let my eyes wander up and down as I approached the car. “Appetizing.”
Her laughter tickled my soul. “I think we’ve had this conversation before.”
I settled between her legs and cradled her face with my hands. “And I think at the end of that night something like this also happened.”
Her lips feathered against mine and she giggled. “You ready for a new normal?” she whispered.
I kissed her lips one more time and plucked the keys from her hand. “Yes, and I’m driving.”
Don’t miss Beth’s story,
DARE YOU TO,
coming soon from Katie McGarry
and MIRA Ink!
Read on for a sneak preview …
Chapter 1
Ryan
Ty Cobb once said, “I never could stand losing. Second place didn’t interest me.”
Doesn’t interest me either. Which sucks because my best friend is seconds from scoring a phone number from the chick working the Taco Bell counter, placing him in the lead.
What started as a simple dare had twisted into a night-long game. First, Chris dared me to ask the girl in line at the movies for her number. I then dared him to ask the girl at the batting cages for her number. The more we succeeded the more momentum the game gained. Too bad Chris owns a grin that melts the hearts of all girls, including the ones that have boyfriends.
I hate losing.
Taco Bell Chick blushes when Chris winks at her. Come on. I chose her because she called us redneck losers when we ordered. Chris rests his arms on the counter, inching closer to the girl, as I sit at the table and watch the tragedy unfold.
Every muscle in the back of my neck tenses as Taco Bell Chick giggles, writes something on a piece of paper and slides it over to him. Dammit. The rest of our group howls with laughter and someone pats me on the back.
Tonight isn’t about phone numbers or girls. It’s about enjoying our last Friday night before school begins. I’ve tasted everything—the freedom of hot summer air in the Jeep with the panels down, the peace of dark country roads leading to the interstate, the exciting glow of city lights as we made the thirty-minute drive into Louisville and, lastly, the mouthwatering taste of a greasy fast-food taco at midnight.
Chris holds the phone number like a referee holding up the glove of the prize champion. “It’s on, Ryan.”
“Bring it.” There’s no way I’m getting this far to have Chris outdo me.
He slouches in his seat, tosses the paper into the pile of numbers we’ve collected over the evening and tugs his Bullitt County High baseball cap over his brown hair. “Let’s see. These things have to be thought through. The girl chosen carefully. Attractive enough so she won’t fall for you. Not a dog because she’ll be excited someone gave her a bone.”
Mimicking him, I shift back in the seat and fold my hands over my stomach. “Take your time. I’ve got forever.”
But we don’t. After this weekend life changes. On Monday, Chris and I will be seniors starting our last fall baseball league. I only have a few more months to impress the professional baseball scouts or the dream I’ve been working toward my entire life will dissolve into ashes.
A shove at my foot brings me back to the here and now.
“Stop the serious shit,” Logan whispers. He knows my facial expressions better than anyone. He should. We’ve been playing together since we were kids. Me pitching. Him catching.
For Logan’s sake, I laugh at a joke Chris told even though I didn’t hear the punch line.
“We close soon.” Taco Bell Chick wipes a table near ours and gives Chris a wink.
“I may call that one,” says Chris.
I raise a brow. He worships his girlfriend. “No, you won’t.”
“I would if it weren’t for Lacy.” But he has Lacy, and loves her, so neither one of us continues that conversation.
“I have one more try.” I make a show of glancing around the purple tex-mex-decorated lobby. “What girl are you choosing for me?”
A honk from the drive-through announces the arrival of a car full of hot girls. Rap pounds from their car and I swear one girl flashes us. I love the city. “You should choose one of them.”
“Sure,” Chris says sarcastically. “In fact, why don’t I hand you the title now?”
Two guys from our group hop out of their seats and go outside, leaving me, Logan and Chris alone.
“There she is.” Chris’s eyes brighten as he stares at the entrance. “That’s the girl I’m calling as yours.”
I suck in a deep breath. Chris sounds too happy for this girl to be good news. “Where?”
“Just came in, waiting at the counter.”