Mom’s eyebrows pop up. “Love, huh?”
“Love,” Dad confirms, eyes on mine.
“Y’all need to mind your own business,” I tease, then I look up as the headlights arc across the room.
I’d know the sound of that diesel engine anywhere.
Everything inside me drops a hundred stories as I watch Ryder climb out of the car and slam the door.
He runs—why is he running?—into the office, his footfalls loud.
I’m reaching for the door just as he knocks.
“Billie? Billie, baby, you okay?”
I yank open the door to see him standing there. His face is sunburnt, and his eyes are full of concern, brows curved upward.
He’s breathing hard. Stepping forward, he takes my face in his hands.
He smells like my soap.
“Aw, Billie, why’re you?—”
“They’re happy tears. Well, kind of.” I glance at my parents, who are watching us with a funny gleam in their eyes.
“Mr. and Mrs. Wallace.” Ryder nods.
Dad puts his arm around Mom’s shoulders. “How many times I gotta ask you to call me Dale?”
“At least one more.”
Ryder’s eyes move between my parents and me. “Can I ask how things are, uh, going?”
I sigh, trying to swallow the tightness in my throat that won’t quit. “They’re going all right. We just agreed we all have work to do about opening up to each other, even when it’s painful or inconvenient.”
“How ironic.” Ryder’s lips twitch. “That’s only what you’ve been teachingmeto do. With great success, might I add.”
“I’m good at everything I do.” I’m teasing again.
Ryder, though, takes me seriously. “You really are. You made the pitch?” He glances at the deck, which Mom put on Dad’s desk.
“I did.”
“And? Please tell me we’re starting an animal therapy program.”
I look at Dad, who looks at Mom. While they do their silent communication thing, I’m hit by the idea that maybe my parents’ marriage isn’t as traditional as I’d always assumed. I thought Dad took his role as head of our household seriously, meaning he was in charge—he made all the decisions.
Now I see that Mom might actually be the one in charge. Have I been so blinded by my own assumptions that I couldn’t see how my parents’ relationshipactuallyworked?
“I’m hoping that’s what we’re about to do,” I reply.
Ryder’s eyes are full as they toggle between mine. “AndIhopeyouare ready to change a lot of lives, Billie. Because that’s exactly what you’re gonna do when you build this program and bring people into the fold here on your family’s ranch.” He glances at my parents. “Y’all have something so, so special, and what a brilliant idea to share it so others can heal and maybe see that life is infinitely richer if you know nature and know how to show it respect too.
“Billie’s got a pretty amazing vision for how it would work,” Ryder continues. “She’s been working on her plans nonstop. Her phone literally died yesterday because she was on the phone so long with Mollie Luck. She was picking Mollie’s brain about a little bit of everything—payroll, hiring practices, mission statements.”
Mom cocks an eyebrow. “So what’s your mission statement, Billie? In a single sentence.”
I meet Ryder’s eyes. Think for a beat. Another.
