And now this poem’s done
And I don’t need Meemaw’s weed
To know that you’re the one.
I lower the paper and look him square in the eye. “So, what do you think? Writing poems is hard, and I swear on my truck that I’ll never ever ask you to do it.”
His expression has lost all irritation and impatience. His eyes have gone soft, and one corner of his mouth is hitched in that beloved lopsided grin. “You know you’re ridiculous, don’t you?”
My lips spread in a wide grin. I toss the paper aside and stand, ready to pounce on him. Maybe my poetry skills are better than I thought!
But before I can make a move, Ryder bursts through the door, all arms and legs, announcing to what I can only guess is the entire town, “Pizza night!!!!”
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
IF YOU CAN’T RUN WITH THE BIG DOGS STAY ON THE PORCH
Dallas
I am a coward.
It’s not really the kind of realization one likes to make when they hit middle age—or anytime really—but as I busy myself with getting Ryder ready for school Wednesday morning after sleeping a scant few hours on that fucking couch yet again, I can’t help but acknowledge how true it is.
I’ve spent the last three days avoiding being alone with Shelby because I am, apparently, a coward the likes of which hasn’t been seen since the cowardly lion inWizard of Oz. I know this because there was a time period when Ryder was obsessed with the book, and we read it nonstop until I had that whole thing memorized. Shelby has every right to waltz in here and declare I’m nothing but a great, big coward.
“Dad? What’s buto-late-hydro-excito-land?” Ryder asks through a mouthful of cereal.
Dammit. He’s reading ingredient lists again. I spill hot coffee on my hand as I fill my thermos. “Shit!” I put the coffee down,wipe off my hand, and try to answer his question. “Probably a chemical of some sort.”
“A good one or a bad one?”
I grimace, out of my depth as I usually am with questions he throws my way. “The answer is probably the one you hate the most.”
Ryder sighs, pushing his chair back and taking his empty bowl to the sink. “I know, I know. It depends.”
I take a swig of hot coffee and grab his backpack. “You got it, kid. Now let’s head on out.”
Ryder puts on the backpack but runs the opposite direction from the truck. “We have to say goodbye to Shelby first!”
I grimace some more but dutifully follow. The boy won’t leave without saying goodbye, which is freaking cute as hell, but as I’m currently playing the part of a coward, I’d prefer we just sneak out unannounced.
When I hit my bedroom door, Ryder is already up on the bed, snuggled up with Shelby, who clearly just woke up. She smiles at me like I haven’t been ignoring the fact that she wrote the world’s bestest worst poem for little old me three days ago. Like she actually loves me and adores the little things I do for her. I smile back, but it’s forced.
“Pops is taking Ryder out for pizza tonight. Figured you and I could grab a bite at that new place, Canoodles, and have a chat?” My cowardly heart is pounding just talking to her. Fuck, why is she so damn pretty all rumpled and sleepy in my bed?
Her grin intensifies, and I know I’ve really fucked up. “I’d love that,” she answers softly.
I nod and bark my frustration at Ryder. “Come on, Ryd. We don’t want to be late.” Nelly blinks at me from the corner of the room, clearly choosing to stay with Shelby today instead of me. I don’t think I blame him.
I walk out without a backward glance. I’m afraid if I do look back, I’ll jump into that bed and spend the day cuddling up with those two like a real family.
And that’s not what today is about.
Today is the day I end things with Shelby. For good.
Canoodles is a little dark. Almost like they’re going for romantic noodles with the sputtering candle and dark wood booths. If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have suggested the place. We’re just about done eating, both of us sticking to light topics like our jobs and the latest town gossip. Shelby’s gaze hasn’t left my face all evening, like she’s waiting for me to say something.
