“Love makes us do funny things,” he said wistfully making me frown at him. “When I saw him going to the front, I followed him.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. Some guy who looked just like him, so I’m assuming it was one of the other famous Powers brothers, had come up and Gable started yelling at him, his arms flying all around looking like a crazy man. After he was finished yelling, his brother said something back to him, and Gable just looked so despondent, hanging his head like he’d just lost his best friend. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.”
I sucked in a breath. “You know he lost his best friend years ago. I hate that he was feeling like that.”
“You amaze me, Scout,” Bodhi said, his eyes warm as he looked at me.
I looked at him like he was a lunatic.
“You’re such a good person. And you really do love him.”
“That doesn’t make me a good person. It makes me a fool,” I whispered.
Bodhi shook his head slowly. “I saw Gable leave not long after. Alone.”
“Good for him,” I muttered not knowing what else to say.
We were over. He’d told me that himself. Then he’d made love to his pen pal, emailing her that he was in love with her. And no matter how much I wanted to believe that he knew it was me, I had to let it go.
Bodhi and I had lain in bed and talked for another thirty minutes about how his night had gone at the club. He’d said he’d met a cute guy and gotten his number, so that was good. They’d made a date for the next weekend and that made me happy for him. He also told me that Dawson had asked for my number but he hadn’t given it to him, thank God, because just what I needed was to pull someone else into the freaking madness that was Scout Patterson’s idiotic world. We’d ended our conversation with me telling him that I was going home to Stone Springs.
When he’d asked if I was coming back, I didn’t have an answer.
After that, we got up and made pancakes eating mostly in silence. When we finished, I cleaned the kitchen while he dressed, and when he came back in, he handed me my bag, frowning at me. I promised him I’d be in contact, gave him a huge hug and left.
And now here I was, back home.
“Scout?” I heard my dad call from the living room.
“Yeah?” I yelled back but got no response, so I got up and went to see what he needed.
“You know I don’t carry on conversations from another room.”
Yep. I knew that. So great to be home!
“Yeah,” I answered.
My dad looked at me, assessing my mood, I guessed, then he spoke. “You up for having dinner at The Ranch tonight?”
The Ranch was a restaurant that my Aunt Hadley owned in town. She wasn’t really my aunt but had been my mom’s best friend, so that’s what my brothers and I called her.
“Uh, yeah. I haven’t had awesome food in forever,” I replied.
“Then it’s a date,” Dad said, smiling at me before going back to reading the newspaper he held open in his hands.
I went back upstairs to my room and plopped down on my bed, picking up my phone off my nightstand and texting Amy back since we’d been interrupted when Dad had called.
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:25 p.m.
Me: Back. Dad and I are gonna eat out tonight. Woohoo. You’ve got to visit here so I can show you around… it’ll take all of five minutes lol
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:25 p.m.
Amy: ha I’d love to see Stone Springs, Idaho sometime. I’ll add it to my Places I’d Never Visit Unless I Was Bored to Friggin’ Tears list ; )
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:26 p.m.
Me: ha Exactly. So anything new going on?
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:26 p.m.
Amy: Got a new asst mgr at work. She’s pretty cool. Didn’t make me clean the ice cream machine last night, so that’s a plus
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:26 p.m.
Me: Awesome. Seniority pays off, huh?
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:27 p.m.
Amy: Yeah, until I work with someone who has seniority over me and she makes me do it ugh
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:27 p.m.
Me: ha yeah. So I called the university and told them I had an emergency at home and they’re allowing me to makeup everything. I’ll probably come back the week after Thanksgiving jsyk
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:28 p.m.
Amy: Good. You need to come back. I miss you. Bodhi misses you : (
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:28 p.m.
Me: I miss you guys too. Oddly, I miss my classes, even Dr. Rippy’s tantalizing lectures in poli-sci about how exciting the Cold War was…
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:29 p.m.
Amy: I’m sure he holds you spellbound
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:29 p.m.
Me: Most definitely
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:30 p.m.
Amy: Okay, let’s address the elephant in the room
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:30 p.m.
Me: Hello, elephant
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:31 p.m.
Amy: You know what I mean… grrrr
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:31 p.m.
Me: haha
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:31 p.m.
Amy: So?
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:32 p.m.
Me: There’s nothing to address… it’s over… I mean, he’s the one who called it off
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:33 p.m.
Amy: Scout. He’s come by three times. He stalked me all the way across campus the other day just to ask how you were. If he had my # I’m sure he’d cell stalk me too
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:33 p.m.
Me: I don’t know what to tell you
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:34 p.m.
Amy: Just talk to him jeez
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:34 p.m.
Me: For what? To hear him, once again, tell me how we’re over? I don’t need to be reminded.
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:35 p.m.
Amy: You are one stubborn ass woman #$%^*@
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:35 p.m.
Me: Are you symbolically cussing me out?
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:36 p.m.
Amy: I can do the real deal if you want. All I’m saying is give him a chance. I know he’s been calling/texting/emailing you, hasn’t he?
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:36 p.m.
Me: Yep
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:36 p.m.
Amy: And what’s he said?
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:36 p.m.
Me: I don’t know. I delete them all
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:37 p.m.
Amy: Stubborn. Ass. Woman. Jesus
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:37 p.m.
Me: Bleeding. Heart. Woman. Who. Thinks. Because. She’s. In. Love. Everyone. Needs. To. Be.
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:38 p.m.
Amy: I know. Isn’t it great? :P
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:38 p.m.
Me: It is. I’m really happy for you guys
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:39 p.m.
Amy: Thanks. I really do love him. He’s definitely my next ex-boyfriend
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:39 p.m.
Me: lol you’re so bad. Who knows, things work out, he could be your first ex-husband ; )
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:39 p.m.
Amy: Gah! That’d be so cool!
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:40 p.m.
Me: It would lol You crack me up :D K, I’d better go get ready. Dad thinks dinner’s at 4. Of course he gets up at 4 am so yeah. Love you. Give Bodhi a big smooch from me!
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:40 p.m.
Amy: Farmers… ick… Okay. Love you too. I’m not kissing someone who still thinks Pluto is a planet… not even for you…
Text Mess
age—Tues, Nov 19, 2:41 p.m.
Me: Damn. Talk later xo
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:41 p.m.
Amy: xo
I set my phone down and got up to get ready having not been kidding about Dad eating dinner that early. Before I got to my door, I heard my phone buzz again and went back to pick it up.
Text Message—Tues, Nov 19, 2:42 p.m.
Amy: p.s. give Gable a chance… xo
Uh, yeah. Not happening in this lifetime.
Week Fourteen
The next week passed slowly but I made the most of it, catching up on homework and emailing assignments to my professors.
One afternoon when I’d been extremely bored, all caught up on classwork, Amy was working and Bodhi wasn’t answering his texts and Dad had nothing for me to do, I’d finally listened to the voicemail Gable had sent. It’d taken me ten minutes of staring at the unheard message on my phone then another ten trying to think of something else to do, anything, before finally playing it.
Scout, it’s me.
And I clicked it off.
God.
God!
I couldn’t do it, so I set my phone on the nightstand and opened the drawer, pulling out the tattered vampire romance book I’d read in high school of which I’d earmarked the pages that had all the hot sex scenes on them and that book was earmarked to death. That kept me occupied (and more than a little horny) for the next couple hours until it was time to make dinner.
~*~*~*~
When I’d gone to dinner at The Ranch with Dad the week before, I’d run into Sarah Rudd who’d been co-captain with me our senior year in basketball. She was now attending Gonzaga and majoring in sports medicine. Before she’d left the restaurant, she’d gotten my number and said she’d get hold of a few of our fellow classmates that she knew were in town for Thanksgiving and we could all meet up.
So the next night I went out to the only bar in town, The Liquor Lounge (where the owner never ID’d anyone), meeting up with several friends from high school who I hadn’t seen since graduating.
“Scout!” Sarah called out when I walked in.
I gave her a huge hug then made the rounds doing the same with everyone else.
Jordan Cummings had been the beauty queen of our class and was now modeling for several different clothing chains as well as taking college classes online, Wink (yes, Wink) Roberts who’d taken technical classes our junior and senior years was now working as a diesel mechanic for a large farm equipment company, Brady Calhoun had gotten a football scholarship at Oregon and had flown home for a day before he had to go back for practice and then the big game with Oregon State that weekend, and finally Porter Taylor was home from Princeton where he’d received about a million academic scholarships because the guy was a friggin’ genius and had led our academic team to the state championship two years in a row.
We’d had a blast reliving old times, practically drinking our weight in alcohol and laughing ourselves sick at some of the ridiculous things that we’d done or that our fellow classmates had attempted during our last three years together.
When we’d left, we’d all wished Brady good luck in the game Saturday then exchanged phone numbers promising to stay in contact.
The next afternoon I attempted listening to Gable’s voicemail again. I mean, gee, it’d only taken me forty-eight hours to make another attempt. Not bad. So I pulled up the voicemail then held my breath as I clicked on it.
Scout, it’s me. Please listen. I’m an asshole. We really need to talk. Please call me. Please? I’m sorry about everything.
Hm.
Well, that wasn’t so bad. Actually, it wasn’t bad at all. Man, I must really have been making big strides in the mending of my mangled heart.
So to review his message: he admitted was an asshole, good to know, he wanted me to call him, not gonna happen, and he was sorry. Well, he could go tell it to the brunette he’d been dancing with at the club for all I cared.
Yeah, I know, I was still being a baby, but hey, I figured I had about one more hour to pout then it was time to start acting like a mature adult and move on.
~*~*~*~
“Holy shit, this stuffing is good,” Heath said as he jammed another forkful into his mouth.
“Thanks,” I answered. “It’s a new recipe I found online. It’s mostly like Mom’s but there’s a couple more things added to it.” I smiled at him, happy he and Holden could make it home to have Thanksgiving dinner with Dad and me. Heath had brought his new girlfriend, Jocelyn, and I loved her immediately because the minute they arrived, she’d headed straight to the kitchen to help me prepare everything.
I’d gotten up at six that morning to put the turkey in the oven and smiled when I’d looked out the kitchen window to see great big fat snowflakes falling lazily from a gray sky. I’d stayed up to help Dad around the farm some, feeding and watering the horses then helping him to repair a fence. Good times. Once we’d gotten back inside, the snow had started falling pretty heavily and we’d worried that Heath and Holden wouldn’t be able to make it, but they had. Holden had flown from Moscow, Idaho, down to Boise last night and stayed with Heath then all three had piled into Heath’s four-wheel-drive pickup truck and driven the four and a half hours here without any incident, so thankfully, the snow had been no problem for them.
After eating, we’d sat at the table for a good hour after eating, talking about what was going on in everyone’s lives and I realized how much I’d missed them. We laughed so much my stomach hurt, especially when Holden told us about how he’d gotten his case notes mixed up during a mock trial. He said he’d been going on and on during his opening argument about how his (fake) defendant hadn’t committed the crime of poisoning the plaintiff’s prize-winning pot-belly pig when the trial had actually been in regard to a case where a rather corpulent man was suing an airline for the size of their seats being too small and he hadn’t been able to take the flight because he couldn’t sit comfortably. When Holden said that in his argument he’d referred to the pig several times over so it’d sounded as if he’d been talking about the plaintiff, I’d about fallen out of my chair, crying with laughter. Oh, God, it was just what I needed, to be with my family and forget about all the shit I’d been dealing with.
Afterward, everyone helped clean up then they all went to the living room to watch football. I wasn’t particularly interested in any of the games that Holden was switching channels back and forth to, I told Dad I was going to get the tractor and clear the drive. From his turkey coma I heard him mutter (unnecessarily, I might add) for me to dress warmly and to watch the ditches on either side of the driveway. Good grief. I’d cleared the damned thing for years, but I yelled out an “Okay!” throwing in an eye roll as I put on my parka, beanie, scarf and gloves and headed to the barn. The tractor had a heated cab, so once I got inside and it warmed up I could take my coat off, but in the thirty yards I had to walk to get to the barn, I appreciated the coverage.
When the snow had started coming down earlier, Dad and I had attached the snow blade to the tractor just in case, so once I reached the barn, all I had to do was jump in the cab, start that sucker up then get to clearing. Our driveway was pretty long, around a tenth of a mile, and I smiled at that knowing it would take several sweeps to clear it all, which was fine by me because I needed some mindless work to keep my brain occupied. Cranking the radio almost as loud as it would go, I began the mundane but blissful to me task of clearing the snow.
On my third pass, I was rocking out to some Seether when my phone buzzed in my pocket. Twisting in my seat, I pulled it from the back pocket of my jeans... and almost drove into the ditch at what I read.
Text Message—Thurs, Nov 28, 3:06 p.m.
Gable: You look damn sexy driving that huge thing. So badass, Priss
Holy shit.
He was here. Oh, my God. Gable was at my house. In Idaho. On Thanksgiving. And he was texting me.
Holy shit.
My heart seized as I frowned down at m
y phone not knowing what to do next. But I was proud of how cool I was being not having jerked my head up to look around to see where he was. Nope, I just continued driving as if I hadn’t a care in the world, although I did tinker with the idea of doing just that, continuing to drive until I hit the main road then heading to the highway and seeing how far I could go, ala Forrest Gump except for driving and not running. But since that wasn’t really feasible, I kept playing it cool, even though I was one-hundred percent freaking out on the inside.
My phone buzzed again but I ignored it, focusing on the task at hand. God, I didn’t have time for any of this. I was doing a good job at getting over him. I didn’t need him bothering me. I mean, hell, if he wanted to come clear to Stone Springs, Idaho, on Thanksgiving to text me that was his business. I could just as easily not respond to his text whether he was here or ten thousand miles away.
I turned around at the top of the drive nearest the house planning to make my way back down to the end for one more pass when I saw Gable in the black pickup truck I’d first seen him in and he was right in the middle of the road facing me and right in my way. Again, I toyed with an idea that really wasn’t appropriate, but I must admit the thought about driving the tractor toward him and not stopping did bring a small smile to my face. But as it was, I sat there, he sat there and we had a visual standoff for a good minute before he grinned at me. Ugh. He next pointed at his mouth then back at me letting me know he wanted to talk to me.
Nope. Not gonna happen. (You might recall what I’d said earlier about the Pattersons being stubborn and bullheaded. Well, there you go.)
So being a Patterson through and through, I put the tractor in reverse and moved back up the drive toward the house, while Gable, of course, followed. Situating the tractor within ten yards of the house, I stopped it, shifted to first and turned off the engine. Then I jumped down from the cab and took off running for the front door of the house.
“Scout!” Gable yelled as he jumped out of the truck, running after me.
I screamed right before he tackled me to the snow-covered ground and when he turned me to face him, I hissed, “Get off me!”
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