I bob my head, tears stinging the back of my eyes as she opens her arms. I fall into them, letting her wrap me in a hug that somehow heals a tiny piece of me in a way only mom hugs can.
If anyone can help me make sense of the shit I’ve gotten myself into, I know it’ll be her.
“Come on inside,” she offers. “You can tell me who messed up your handsome face over some cookies and milk.”
I sigh, letting some of the weight that had settled on me in the truck fall away as I follow her inside.
“It was Wes,” I say as she busies herself in the kitchen, pulling glasses down from the cupboard and filling them with milk.
She shoots me a questioning look.
“The guy who messed up my face.”
Her eyes go wide. “Oh, this ought to be good,” she says, setting the plate of cookies on the table before she finally sits herself down across from me. “Alright, Tripp. Start talkin'.”
I stall, taking a bite of the cookie that reminds me of my childhood, and chew slowly, my jaw a little sore.
“Wes found out me and Quinn were...” I trail off, waving a hand uselessly in the air like the gesture can fill in the blanks for me. “Y’know. Spending time together. But like with more touching... and less... clothes.”
She stares at me from across the table like she’s waiting for me to stop embarrassing myself. “Tripp,” she says flatly, “I’m not a child. Just say you were having sex with the girl.”
I cough in surprise, heat creeping into my cheeks. “Right. That.”
She leans back in her chair, lips twitching like she’s fighting a smile. “So, naturally, he’s mad about it. Looks like he paid you back for it too. Give it a day or so, and he’ll cool off. Then you can apologize for…”—she waves her cookie at me—"falling in love with his little sister."
The cookie halfway to my mouth freezes. I gape at her smug grin. “How the hell do you know I’m in love with Quinn?”
“Well, I think I’d have to be blind not to see it for one thing,” she says. “And for another, it’s been a long time since you showed an interest in any girl. I figured she had to be pretty special to break that streak. It’s been good seeing you with so much light again."
There’s a question in her eyes, like she’s wondering what changed.
“Quinn’s always been—I don’t know—more, I guess. But she got this job offer in Denver, and I told her to take it.” My throat suddenly feels like sandpaper as I swallow another bite of my cookie.
“Of course you did,” she says, unsurprised. “You’re not the type to ask anyone to give something up for you.”
I frown at the table, her words burrowing deep.
She pauses, then adds softly, “It’s why we sold off the ranch when your father got his diagnosis.”
My head snaps up.
“We never wanted you to feel like you were pinned here. I wanted you free to go back on the rodeo circuit, if that’s whatyou needed. You’ve always known what you wanted and have gone after it. It’s one of the best things about you.”
She's quiet for a moment, letting that sink in, and then her gaze sharpens. “So, go after her. If she wants Denver, and you want her, then what the hell are you doing still sitting at my table?”
I wipe my hands on my jeans, trying to put words to the ache in my chest. “What if I’m not forever material?”
Her brows lift. “What in the world would ever make you think that?”
I hesitate, hating how stupid it sounds out loud. “Nobody’s ever wanted me for more than a good time. And I figured, if it hasn’t happened yet, then maybe it never will.”
She gives me that patient, knowing mom look. “Maybe it wasn’t meant to happen with anyone else, Tripp. Maybe you were waiting for her. Ever think of that?”
My spine straightens as I let that settle, feeling the rightness of it in my bones. For the first time all day, something like hope stirs in my chest.
I bolt out of my chair and lean in to kiss my mom’s cheek. “Thanks, Mom,” I call, already halfway out the door. I have to fix things with Wes, so I can go get my girl.
No Plan. No List. No Clue.
