I could feel Dad waiting for me to soften at the sight of the charming home.
“Where’s George?” I asked. If Dad was going to make such a fuss about moving here and being closer, the least his old buddy could do was show up.
Dad burst into his boisterous, honking laugh, eyes screwed shut with the force of his amusement.
“What?” I demanded.
“George—well, Georgina, but don’t call her that because she hates it—is sitting on the front steps.”
I took a closer look at George, her light brown hair tied up in a droopy knot that looked ready to slide off her head, as her right knee bounced with impatient excitement. Sun-kissed, freckled shoulders jutted out from thick overall straps and the white tank top underneath. She looked like sun tea and summertime.
We parked, and she sprang from her seat, long muscular legs closing the gap before Dad or I could open our doors. She tapped on his window, and he rolled it down.
“You said you’d be here at four,” George admonished, her accented drawl stretching the words. Despite the hands planted on her cocked hips, the quirk of her lips and humor in her blue eyes betrayed her.
“I said,I thoughtI’d be here at four.” Dad casually leaned one arm on the door.
“And what am I supposed to tell the cold pizza? It’s lonely and forgotten and has been waiting there in those greasy boxes for you to show up, very worried you’d crashed in a ditch or something.” She cocked a brow, gazing over dad’s shoulder to wink at me.
I had to stifle a smile. There was a welcoming whimsy about her. I was expecting a rugged, towering rancher, not her.
You hate her. She is the reason you’re here. I reminded myself. Dad always called my stubbornness a superpower. I’d never do anything I didn’t want to do, for better or worse.
“Good thing about pizza, it’s also good cold. But ifsomeone elsewas worried, I’d say I should have called and I’d apologize for worrying them.” Dad slipped from the car and started heading to the back to grab our suitcases.
Dad had come up last weekend to unpack furniture with the movers so all we had left was boxes of clothes, books, CDs, my guitar, Dad’s desktop, and a few other necessities.
Following his lead, I retrieved my blue sticker-covered suitcase. I was so preoccupied, I didn’t see George round the car. I jumped when she hugged me.
“You didn’t tell me she was perfect,” she gushed as she wrapped me in her arms. A few strands of her hair broke free and tickled my cheek. “If you’d told me, I would have flown up to see for myself. You’ve been selfish, Hudson.”
It was the first time I ever saw my dad blush. Pink crawled all the way up from his neck to his cheeks. “The town wouldn’t run without you if you did that.”
She waved him off, freeing me. “They don’t need me.”
I’d later learn that was a lie. George Gaflin was the only vet in the rural farm town, so not only did the rescue horses she took in need her, but so did the other residents of Caper who relied on their animals to survive.
“Mo-om,” the boy on the steps said, breaking up the word into an exasperated two syllables. He rose and headed toward us, his dirt caked boots scuffing across the ground. “You can’t just grab people like that.”
He stood a few feet away, but we were close enough that I could see his clear blue eyes brimming with apologetic embarrassment, like having to reign in George’s exuberance was a common occurrence.
“Wesley Harrold,” she chided. “This is the first time I’m meeting the girl. She’s a big deal, and I’m not going to act like she’s not.”
“Yeah,Wesley. I’m a big deal,” I joined in. Some of my stubborn resistance melted away with George’s unquestioning acceptance. There was an odd, unearned familiarity between us, seeing as we only knew each other through years of second-handaccounts. But I guess that came from caring for the same person—Dad had unwittingly built a bridge between us.
Wes’s eyes locked on me, and he cocked his head, causing his tousled brown hair to feather over his brow. “I guess you are.”
Goosebumps pricked up my arms with the full force of his attention on me.
“Now, help her bring her stuff to her room, then we’ll eat,” George directed.
Wes reached for a box with my name on it, hauling it up out of the car and nearly dropping it.
“Be careful with those!” I snapped.
“Don’t worry, I’m strong.” He winked. “Just readjusting.”
I rolled my eyes, snagging my guitar case before going inside, awkwardly maneuvering as I rolled my suitcase while avoiding banging my guitar on doorways.
