Dallas flashes one of his trademark smirks. “Yeah, these guys have definitely taken a few too many hits to the head. Guess originality’s not their strongest suit.”
I smile back with a laugh. Despite his intimidating presence, I’ve always liked Dallas. I knew that there had to be a softer side to him for someone like Dove to marry him and I’m seeing a glimpse of that now in his genuine concern for what Clay is up to.
“Thanks, Dallas. Not sure if I’ll make it tonight, but I appreciatethe info.”
I glance at the time and realize that I’m already running late for dinner with my dad at the station. I quickly finish sorting the blueberries, stacking the containers in the freezer before heading toward the front door. Just as I reach for the handle, Dallas’s voice calls out, stopping me in my tracks.
“Hey, Maggie!”
“Yeah?”
“I’m pretty good at reading people and their body language—comes with the territory, you know. And I can tell there’s more to your interest in what Clay is up to, isn’t there?”
I fight the blush that I know is creeping over my chest. At least Clay didn’t tell him about my embarrassing confession last summer.
He nods his head, “Boy’s kind of fucked up, but I’m sure you already know that. He’s got it in his head that he’d prefer to be alone the rest of his life. With that said, he’s one of the most loyal guys I know. Don’t let him try to say it’s an age thing for you two to work. I’ve seen more barriers than you’d believe try to keep people apart.”
I nod again and smile, “Thanks, Dallas, but I’m not interested in Clay like that.”
At least not anymore.
"We’re really not even friends. I may not even go tonight. It’s a long drive.”
He gives me a knowing look with another smile, “Sure, take care, Maggie.”
****Thirty minutes later****
“So, tell me how your online classes are going this summer?”
I twirl my fork, wrapping the spaghetti pasta around it four times until none of the cool metal is visible.
“They’re good. Just sticking with the two easy ones until I head back to school in August.”
My dad nods, a warm smile spreading across his face. His feet are propped up on the desk in his office at the station, and a white Styrofoam container rests comfortably on his lap—takeout from one of our favorite Italian spots in town.
“And how was it being back and seeing your old friends at Lucy’s?”
“It was fine.”
I know I’m being short, and guilt immediately creeps in, but my mind’s not here tonight. I can’t stop wondering what exactly Clay is doing in San Angelo, fighting. It’s almost six now, and Dallas said the fight starts at seven. Instead of catching up with my dad, I’m mentally calculating how long it will take to drive all the way to San Angelo—and if it’s even a good idea.
What I said to Dallas was true. It’s not like Clay and I are really friends. So, what is it about him that keeps pulling me in, even when he’s made it clear he’s not interested in anything with me?
“And boys...?” my dad asks from across his desk.
I know he’s just doing that thing where he worries about me. He wants me to have a normal life—dating, marriage, all of it. He’s mentioned more than once how marrying my mom was the best decision he’d ever made despite losing her so young. I’ve even overheard him talking to his brother, my uncle, saying how one of his biggest regrets was not giving me any siblings. His exact words were, “When I’m gone, who will she have? No one."
It bothers me that he’s thinking like that already. He’s still young, healthy. He doesn’t need to keep stressing about me and where I end up.
To be fair, Ihaven’tdated anyone since Kaleb—my high school boyfriend and the only guy I’ve ever slept with. It probably doesn’t help that my dad couldn’t stand him. Kaleb didn’t exactly make it easy either, always dropping me off after curfew,cussing, and getting suspended for sneaking peach schnapps into a school football game. Not exactly the guy you’d want your daughter with.
“No, no boys dad. I’m just focusing on the internship and working at the Co-op right now.”
He nods, a flicker of disappointment crosses his features, and I immediately get thatonly child disappointing their surviving parentguilty feeling again.
“But I am about to start a new hobby,” I add, hoping that will make him feel better.
“Oh really? What’s that?”
