Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
He grins, and it takes me a moment to realize how real what I just said to him was. I hadn’t thought about it first or said it to play a part. It was honest and automatic.
“Ranch dip, huh? I’ll have to remember that.”
“Are you going to make a list of all my answers?”
“It’s already in my Notes app.” Tripp chuckles, and I find myself doing the same. It’s a unique feeling.
“I doubt that.” This little game he’s playing about being interested in me must be a joke. Plus, it’s not as if I want him to be interested in my answers to his random questions. It has no effect on my life at all.
“You don’t believe me?” He pulls his phone out of his pocket, goes into the app, and right there I see: Rhett Swift. The only thing in his list is apple crisp with vanilla ice cream and caramel sauce, but then, I’m not sure what else I expect him to have on it. “I’ll add enjoys buying gifts and likes Ruffles with ranch dip. And now that I’m thinking about it, I feel like an important fact to add is that I’m not a stalker and this isn’t creepy at all. Shit. I’m coming off really weird right now, aren’t I?”
“A little bit,” I reply, ignoring the fluttering feeling in my gut that’s so fucking foreign to me.
“Okay, so Meadow keeps a ton of lists in her phone: places she wants to travel to, restaurants she wants to try, lists of her favorite things, reminders of special moments and things like that. She got me to start doing the same thing, though I don’t have nearly as many lists as she does, but it’s something I’ve tried to do.”
“So that’s what prompted you to make a Rhett Swift list?”
He rubs his large hand over his face. “I’m not helping my situation, am I? I’ll understand if you never want to talk to me again.”
Strangely, it feels good that I made it to a list on Tripp’s phone. I’m not sure what that says about me, and I’m not entirely comfortable with this feeling, but in a way I don’t understand, I think I’m honored.
I shift slightly away from him. “She’s amazing. Your daughter. To think about doing something like that at her age. To care enough to want to hold those memories and make those plans.” At thirteen, the only thing I wanted or cared about was being exactly who my father wanted me to be.
“I can’t take any credit for that. It’s all her.”
I look around, notice everyone else at the party is in their own world, talking and laughing. “Can’t you, though? A lot of who she is comes from herself, I agree. But you provide an environment where she feels comfortable exploring who she is, and making her own dreams. You give her moments she wants to remember. If you weren’t a safe place for her…” Maybe she would be more like me. And if my father had created one for me, maybe I would be more like Meadow and Tripp.
“Thank you. I’m speechless, and that doesn’t happen often. That might be one of the coolest things anyone has ever said to me.”
I shake my head, unable to imagine that’s true.
“I’m serious,” Tripp adds.
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s something to me.”
I don’t know how to respond to that. The fluttering feeling in my stomach is back, spreading up into my chest and tickling down the skin of my arms. I’ve never felt that way before, and I can’t say what’s making me experience it now.
The silence stretches between us, making me shift uncomfortably again. Is he expecting me to have a response? Why don’t I?
Before I can pluck any words from my thoughts, Meadow approaches us. “Me, Jasmine, and Kaylee are ready to go skating now. Uncle Archer said he’s dragging East out there too. You and Rhett should come as well.”
I feel Tripp’s gaze on me. When I look at him, he cocks an eyebrow.
“Oh no. Absolutely not.” I cross my arms.
“Please, Rhett. It’ll be fun,” Meadow begs.
“Yeah, please, Rhett. It’ll be fun.” And given Tripp’s annoying smirk, I have a feeling he knows he has me cornered and there’s no way I’ll say no.
“I haven’t skated since I was a kid,” I confess.
“If I have to do this, you do too,” East grumbles.
“You’re pretending to be grumpy, but you’re not,” Meadow tells him.
Not many people speak to East that way, but he doesn’t get frustrated and simply replies, “I am not.”
Archer laughs. “That sounds a little fake-pouty to me.” But then he takes East’s hand and threads their fingers together, my brother looking at him in a way that steals my breath. They are to each other what Morgan and Dusty are. They might not have a lifetime of love behind them, but it’s just as true. I smile at the thought of both of my brothers having that, at finding their way.