I can tell he isn’t mad at me, just embarrassed. Rhett ignores it, still staring at me.
“So, you’ll stay then?” he says.
“I can’t stay, Rhett. I have school and a home.”
“You can go to school here,” he says.
I huff a laugh. “Have you seen this place? There’s no college around here.”
His jaw falls open, he scoffs, and then storms off.
“What was that all about?” I ask Gus.
“I think he likes having you around, and you just told him you’re leaving.”
“He doesn’t even know me…”
“Yeah, well… we don’t meet many new people. And he offered to help. It may not seem like much, but to him, it’s the start of letting you in, and that’s big.”
With a sigh, I chew on my lip and watch Rhett head back to the house. He doesn’t go inside, but around it and disappears behind the house.
“You think I should go see if he’s okay?” I ask.
“I’m sure he’s fine. I’ll talk to him in a little bit. Hey, you want to see something cool?” he asks.
“Uh, okay?” I say.
I’m not sure what he could show me that I don’t already know about, but it could be fun.
He takes my hand, those little tingles tickling my skin, and leads me up the dirt drive. When we make it halfway up the hill, I already know where he’s bringing me.
There’s a large tree with a tire swing hanging from it that pops into view. Another couple of minutes, and we’re standing in the shade of the tree.
“I haven’t been on this in years,” I say as I run my hand along the old rubber. “I played on it all the time when I was a little girl, and then, one day… I forgot it existed.”
“So, this was yours?” he asks, giving it a little push.
“Yep. Charlie hung it for me on my sixth birthday. Grannie was a little worried, thinking I’d break something, but I never did.”
“Wow.” He looks up. “And it’s still hanging on.” His gaze comes back to me. “Get on. I’ll give you a push.”
“Uh… how aboutyouget on, and I’ll giveyoua push. You know… in case it falls.”
“Oh, so you don’t care about my well-being?” he says with a smirk as he climbs into the tire, shoving his legs in and taking a seat. The branch creaks beneath his weight, and I look up at it, but it seems sturdy as ever.
With both my hands pressed to his back, I give him a hard push. When he comes back at me, I follow through with him and shove him when he goes forward.
The branch creaks more, the tire spins, but it holds on tight.
Gus laughs, shouting, “Higher, higher!”
“You’re heavy!” I call back, pushing him as hard as I can.
He laughs, kicking his feet to help him swing.
My arms burn from his weight, and my face hurts from laughing so much.
“Your turn!” he calls, putting his feet down as he swings back and forth to slow himself down. Once he’s off, I slip inside, holding on tight because I’m still not convinced it won’t break.
