“We’re… a mess, some might say,” Boone contributes, licking orange dust off his fingers.
“Good. The second you think you’re good enough, you stop trying.” Dad looks at each of them. “You treat herright. That’s not a request. That’s not a suggestion. That’s the price of keeping your teeth.”
“Already do,” Wyatt says.
“Every day,” Jesse adds, finding his voice.
“Constantly,” Boone says. “Like, possibly too much.”
Dad makes a sound that might be amusement or might be his soul trying to escape. “I don’t want details. About anything. Ever. As far as I’m concerned, you all just... hold hands and talk about the weather.”
“So much weather,” Boone agrees. “Atmospheric pressure. Cloud formations. The whole meteorological deal.”
“Stop helping,” Jesse mutters.
“Also,” Dad continues, ignoring them, “there are rules.”
“Dad—”
“Not those rules. Basic human decency rules. You don’t get to blame each other when shit goes wrong. You don’t get to make her choose between you. And you sure as hell don’t get to turn this into some competitive sport where she’s the prize.”
The boys are quiet. This is the most my dad’s talked since Mom’s funeral.
“She’s all I’ve got left,” Dad says, his voice rougher. “Her and my ranch and a girlfriend who documents my medical procedures. But mostly her.”
“Yes, sir,” they say in unison, which is either practiced or creepy.
“Good. Now, practical matters. You’re helping fix the fence today.”
“The fence that’s been broken for fifteen years?” Jesse asks.
“That exact fence. Both families. Together. With tools. And supervision.”
“Is that safe?” Wyatt asks. “Statistically speaking, our families plus tools equals emergency room visits.”
“Mrs. Delaney will be there with her phone. She’s calling it ‘content.’ We’re all content now. I don’t know what that means but she says it’s good for engagement. I don’t know what engagement is, either.”
“Nobody asked to be content,” Boone protests.
“Too late. You’re dating a Thompson publicly. You’re already hashtagged, whatever that is. You’re probably trending.”
“Dad, do you know what trending means?”
“No. No, I do not.”
Dad starts walking to his truck, then turns back.
“Boys?”
They tense again.
“You hurt her, I’ve got a gun named Peacemaker.”
“Ironic name for a gun,” Boone points out, because his survival instincts are broken.
“That’s the point. Makes people think about their choices. I’ve also got one named Relationship Counselor. And one called Your Funeral.”
“That’s not subtle.”
