But now that I’m older, I’m expected tosit stillandlook prettyin the pews beside our parents. That means I don’t get to run around with the other kids anymore even though I’ve begged to be one of the babysitters in the kid room.
Back when I was five, maybe six, I distinctly remember the older girls giggling over how “cute” they thought the Rivers boys were. Something about their blue eyes and the little cowboy hats they’d wear to church.
I nod at Ryder’s guitar. “Why did you bring that?” Putting my hands on my hips, I tilt my head. “No, wait. Why are you even here?”
He shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep. Colt snores like a goddamn bear when he drinks. I heard someone creepin’ around and wasn’t sure what to expect. So I grabbed the nearest weapon, which just so happened to be my guitar?—”
“So y’alldidget into Daddy’s Jim Beam.”
“I’m allowed to be wild too, you know.”
I roll my eyes. “Boys are always allowed to be wild.”
“We live on a ranch in the middle of nowhere, Billie. There ain’t nothing else for us to do around here.”
“Yeah, well, some of us still gotta act right, Ryder.”
His smile broadens. “You actin’ right creepin’ around like this?”
“I couldn’t sleep either.”
His smile fades. “Another nightmare?”
“So Colt told you I’ve been having them. A lot.” Looking down, I kick at the dusty floorboards.
“He’s worried about you is all.” A pause. “Truth be told, I am too. What d’you think they’re about? The nightmares.”
A surge of something strong and awful moves through me. Before I can think, I spit out, “Why do you care?”
Another pause. It strikes me how different Ryder is from my brothers.
Heck, he’s different fromhisbrothers too. If I asked them that question, I feel like they’d just tell me to shut up and walk away.
But Ryder stays. Hethinks.
He really does care, and that makes my chest cramp.
“You’re a lot like Cash,” he says at last, referring to his oldest—and least friendly—brother. “Always got your dukes up. But it’s when you’re throwing the most punches that you’re the most scared. So tell me why you’re scared so I can play some Taylor Swift for you already.” Ryder shifts the guitar so he’s holding it across his middle. “I wanna show off all the shit I learned in my guitar lessons this summer.”
I’m laughing, and I don’t want to be.
Scratch that. I really like laughing, especially when Ryder laughswithme, notatme the way my brothers always do. As their kid sister—I’m number three in the birth order, smack dabin the middle—I’ve always had to hustle to keep up with them. They find it hilarious when I inevitably fall on my face.
“You’re really gonna play for me?”
“If it will make you feel better, yeah.”
“And you know Taylor Swift?”
“I’ve heard you listening to her. I can learn.”
Turning back to Meredith, I tuck my cheek against the star on her head. She feels warm. Safe.
Maybe that’s why I’m able to say, “I’m just noticing things now. Like how people treat me differently, and not in a good way.”
“What do you mean?”
“So after dinner, Mom always makes me stay to help her do the dishes even though Colt and the rest of them get to ‘go do their homework,’ when really everybody knows they’re just going to play their stupid video games. And Dad—he’s trying to teach me all this budgeting nonsense that’s boring as all get-out. Meanwhile, my brothers get to ride out with the cowboys all day. I miss that, but Dad doesn’t seem to care.” I sigh. Damn, it feels good to get that out.
