Wheeler is Having a Baby!
Please Join Us for a Shower on Saturday, October 29, at 11 a.m.
Brunch, Margaritas, and Baby Surprises Will Be Served
Hosted by Mollie, Sally, and Ava
Please RSVP by October 22
“Aw.”
Mom looks up from the laundry she’s folding. “What’s that?”
“Wheeler Rankin invited me to her baby shower. You know, Duke’s?—”
“Girlfriend. Yes! Oh, how wonderful. I’m so happy for them.” Mom tilts her head. “And I’m happy for you that you’re making new friends. I like those girls.”
“I do too.” I slip the invitation back into its envelope.
Even though I moved into my place years ago, my mail still gets delivered to Mom and Dad’s house. Everybody’s does. It would take the postman literally all day to deliver mail acrossthe ranch, so my parents simplified things and have everyone’s stuff get delivered here. I usually stop by after work to pick up my mail, which these days is mostly bills and, randomly enough, fliers for cheap land in Tennessee of all places.
“How’s Ryder?” Mom shakes out one of Dad’s shirts. “I still think about the way that man leapt for you when you fell off that horse. I thoughthewas gonna break a dang arm too!”
My stomach flips for the hundred thousandth time this week. It happens anytime I so much asthinkhis name.
I glance at my phone, which I set beside me on the kitchen table.
No texts or calls since I checked it last, a minute ago.
Nevertheless, a flash of heat low in my belly lets me know I am definitely not over the sex Ryder and I had last weekend. It’s only been four days since we hooked up, but you’d think I’d spent forty days and forty nights in the desert for how much I miss him.
How much I wanna call him and have phone sex with him, and then invite him over for actual, physical sex.
I got you, baby, I’d tell him.
He’d call me darlin’, and then he’d kiss the shit out of me while tearing off all my clothes.
I know thinking about Ryder is an exercise in self-flagellation. Yeah, we had life-altering sex after having several life-altering conversations. Sure, he was the first to get to me after I fell off my horse and literally saved my life. Yes, I’m the only one he’ll play his guitar for.
But none of that means a damn thing if he doesn’t ask me out. Which he hasn’t even though we did text a lot over the weekend. I haven’t heard from him since Sunday.
I’ve learned that guys are funny like that. You can have the best time ever with them—you can get deep, talk about intimateshit—and think your connection is real and special. But then they ghost you for no discernible reason other thanthey can.
I’m intense. I own that. I just wonder, how many times do I need to learn that other people don’t read as much into things as I do? That they don’t take things as seriously?
Because I took my hookup with Ryder pretty fucking seriously. And now here I am, checking my phone every five seconds just to make sure I didn’t miss his text.
Honestly, Mom, I have no idea how Ryder is. I just know I wanna see him again. Preferably naked.
“Ryder is good.” I choose my words carefully, not wanting to give myself away. “Busy. But otherwise good. He’s excited for the babies.”
“That man is so good with kids. Dean is obsessed with him. I’ll never forget the way he showed up for Colt after Abby passed. I’m not sure what we would’ve done without him.”
Knife to the chest.
That’s how Mom’s seemingly innocuous comment feels right now.
Trust me, existing without Ryder in my life right now is killing me, just like the things you’re saying.
