“So, where’s Brantley?” Chase randomly asks as he cracks open another beer from the cooler he brought.
Wesley and I don’t drink, we’re not even twenty-one, not that I think it would change anything. I hope not at least. I think the taste of beer is disgusting. He doesn’t think it’s that bad but doesn’t necessarily desire to have it.
Being drunk scares me, even though I’ve never actually experienced it. Beingarounddrunk people makes me anxious too—mostly because I can’t handle vomit. If someone drinks too much, I’ll start worrying they’ll get sick. Which will automatically trigger my anxiety, which meansIfeel sick. So, it’s basically just this vicious cycle.
Chase doesn’t get out of hand or anything, so he doesn’tbother me. He’ll have his two beers and be fine. Wesley’s one other friend, Cole, on the other hand…no. I want no part of him. He thinks getting drunk is fun. Thankfully, Wesley has sorta set a boundary with him. He didn’t want to be around it either, but if I’m being honest, I think I had more to do with it. He knows if Cole’s around I won’t even come close, and I think Wesley values our friendship over Cole’s.
“Brantley’s getting ready for the rodeo,” I tell him.
He sips his beer and sets it down. “Nice. Is it a weekend thing or…?”
“He just rides Saturday.”
“Gotcha.” He clears his throat. “You going?” he asks.
“Yeah. Mason offered to take me.”
“Good. Where is it?”
“Like three hours away.” I groan with an eye roll.
Wesley interjects, “I didn’t know it was that far.”
I sigh. “Yeah, well, I’ll be okay with Mason.” I shrug like it’s not a big deal, but it kinda is.
Car rides are not my friend. Sometimes I get nauseous, which feeds my anxiety. But then sometimes I get anxious first, which feeds into nausea. It’s just a whole thing that I can’t ever seem to win, so I just pray the Dramamine does its thing and I’ll be able to keep my food down.
* * *
“I made plenty of chicken tetrazzini, so please don’t be shy,” Sierra says, gathering her purse while Blake’s pulling on his boots.
“Sorry in advance if he throws anything at your head. He thinks everything classifies as a baseball now,” Blake tells me.
I laugh. “Uh-oh.”
Sierra rolls her eyes. “Yeah, you can thank Blake for that.”
Caden’s a year and a half now and growing like a weed. His features have stayed the same since he was just a baby though. With Sierra’s blonde hair, and Blake’s green eyes, he’s the cutest little man. Smart too. He’s starting to talk more and more. He finally started saying my name. Though “Addie” is pretty similar to “Daddy,” I still take pride in it.
Blake and Sierra head out while Caden and I wave from the window.
Sierra already had everything for dinner set out for us. She’s on it. I aspire to be the mom she is one day.
The whole house is always clean and put together. Aside from toys, of course, and sometimes a few dishes in the sink, she keeps up with it all.
After we eat, I spend a good ten minutes cleaning the high chair. Caden’s got food all over the place. Even the wall.
The sound of a tractor rumbles from outside. Caden’s little feet patter across the floor, and I turn to see him drop his toy and run to the front window. Babbling “tractor” over and over again as he bangs on the window.
“Is there a tractor? Who’s on the tractor?” I ask him.
“Essie,” he says.
“Wesley? Yeah, Wesley’s working.” I walk over and pick him up so he can see better. He continues banging on the window as we watch Wes back the tractor into the barn. “Should we go say hi?”
“Yeah!” he screeches with a determined nod.
I head to the door, slip on my shoes, then slide Caden’s feetinto his little Crocs. He reaches for my hand before I even get the door open and we step out.
