Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Although dancing around topics only makes people more suspicious, I keep it vague but honest. “Not only that.”
She hums with a huff at the end. “You’re a tough nut, Tagger.” She pats my arm. “I’m here when you’re ready to share. But no matter what, I’m happy to have you home again.”
Leaving me to stand near my dad, she calls, “Hey, Beck?” He jumps off the porch steps, nailing the landing, and looks up. “You’re here at the best time of year. Peach season.” When she reaches him, they climb up the steps to the porch together. “I’m going to teach you how to make my blue-ribbon-winning peach cobbler. Want to know what the secret ingredient is?”
“Yes?” he asks, enraptured by her storytelling. She makes everyone feel like they’re the most important person in the world, or in this case, you’ve been chosen to get in on her secrets.
I know the secret ingredient before she even reveals it. “Love.”
She stops at the door and turns back. Giving me a smile, she nods. “That’s right. Love.”
Beck asks, “What does love taste like?”
“It’s different for everyone, but you’ll know the moment you find it.” It’s been a long time since I learned her secret to great cooking—a dash of love, a pinch of kindness, and putting your heart into everything you do. She even has it stitched and hanging on the wall in the kitchen. I’ve heard it a million times and read it even more, but it never hit until now. That’s what she meant. When you find it, you’ll know.
There’s no denying I’ve found it with Pris.
What am I going to do with this knowledge? I know that’s the next question my mom would ask. Pris would, too. They’re not so different. Unlike my ex.
Pulling me in for a solid pat on the back, my dad says, “I hear we’re getting you and the little guy for five days.”
“Five whole days,” I emphasize with a chuckle. I’m not sure he knows what he’s taking on, considering he loves to “fish,” a.k.a. nap, during the day. “Is that alright?”
“This is your home, Tag.”
I catch the tail end of Beck telling my mom, “. . .for the whole summer.”
“I hope you get to spend more time in Peachtree Pass with us, then.”
I was already trying to make some extended visit plans, but it’s good to know we’re welcome, especially because it’s not easy to take on a six and thirty-year-old when you’re used to quiet in the house.
Popping the trunk, I get our suitcases out and set them down. My dad takes Beck by the hand, and says, “It’s also rodeo time this weekend. Beck would make a fine mutton buster.”
I’m undecided if that’s a good or bad thing. Anna would kill me, but Beck would probably have the time of his life. “I told him Rollingwood Ranch has a few sheep I can show him up close. I won’t pressure him, so we’ll see if he’s up for it.”
“You’ve mentioned he’s a pro at riding the subway with you. It’ll be good to see him trying to ride a sheep.” He chuckles, glancing at the door just before it shuts behind them. “Once he gets a taste, he might want to ride in the rodeo after that.”
Picking up my suitcase, I reply, “That would be hard to pursue living in New York.”
I’m met with a side stare. “You couldn’t live in New York. You’d need a home base to raise him with some acreage and have some animals.”
My dad has never understood the appeal of the city. I don’t think it’s worth trying to change his mind at this age. But he has a good point. I doubt Beck is ever joining the rodeo, not if his mother has her way, but giving him a home base where he can open the door and run outside is what every kid needs. Earth under their feet instead of concrete. Waiting at a cattle crossing instead of being a part of the herd at a crosswalk when the light turns green.
We have one drive-thru in the county and no stoplight. It would be a major change for him. Although I know he likes to visit Texas, is it somewhere he’d like to live? And more importantly, is it the best decision for him?
I turned out alright, if you ask my closest friends. Enemies will always say shit.
This is not the first time I’ve thought about moving back, but I’m the closest I’ve ever been to seriously considering it. Pris and I have a lot to discuss, which I hope to do if I can sneak away for a bit.
Setting the small case down at his side, he asks, “Got any other plans? Going to see some friends?”
Since neither of us is rushing inside, I set my case down as well. We stand side by side, crossing our arms over our chest, looking more like each other every day. “Thought I’d look at painting the house.”