Page 110 of Don't Go Faking My Heart

"What?" She laughs. "Greg? My Greg? He always jokes that the only reason he attracted his first wife was because she had a crush on Steve Urkel."

"I don't know what to tell you," I say, "except Greg loves you."

"I can't get past the idea of my nerdy stepdad calling my strapping Farm Boy and threatening him … especially the string cheese part," she says. "Greg is lactose intolerant!"

I chuckle.

"Wh-what did you say?" she asks. "When he called. What did you say?"

That conversation will stay fresh in my mind until the day I die. "You'll have to ask Greg."

We finish our ice cream, occasionally taking bites from each other’s cones, like a real couple. Like us. My heart throbs with hope that a night like tonight could become a tradition, not just a memory.

After her last bite is done, I stifle a yawn, but she catches it. She stands and holds a hand out to me.

"You should get some sleep. Come on."

It's been a tiring week and an emotional few days. If Ash were coming home with me, her presence would keep my battery charged better than a full night's sleep. But knowing that I'm dropping her off at home, my exhaustion has caught up with me. Which is why it's so unfortunate that, of all the times to run into my parents, it has to be now.

"Rusty!" my mom calls when she sees us in the parking lot. "Ashley!"

Ash grabs my hand, pulling me to a stop. She turns around fully, but I keep my feet angled toward my truck. When my parents catch up with us, I want to send a crystal clear message that I'm not sticking around to chat.

"Hi, Mrs. Fielding," Ash says, giving my mom a hug. My mom adores Ash, although they've only met a few times. Arlo has managed to be pleasant enough that I think Ash thought well of him.

She sure doesn't anymore. When my dad meets up with us, Ash's warmth freezes over. "Hi, Mr. Fielding."

Arlo shakes her hand. She leans against me, and I drape my arm over her shoulders protectively.

Arlo hasn't tried anything with me in over ten years, not since he started court-ordered AA. I have no idea if he was ever physical with my mom. I don’t think he was with Shelby. But I know he was never physical with anyone else in the house if I was around.

I made sure of it.

I don’t work directly with him. We have layers of reporting that ensure I don’t even have to see him. In fact, I haven’t seen him more than two or three times in the last year, and each time, it’s in passing.

I'm glad Arlo is sober, but that mean glint in his eye has permanent residence there, and it will never stop having an effect on me.

Worse, though, is the effect it's having on Ash. She's practically clinging to me.

"Are you two out on a little date?" Mom asks.

"We are," I say. "What are y'all doing at Mudcakes?"

"Oh, your father promised me ice cream tonight after the Double H game," Mom says.

"I didn't realize you guys went to the games."

"We don't miss many," Arlo says. He gives me an alligator grin worthy of the predator he is. “The game against the Badgers the other night was my favorite in a long time.”

My stomach churns. I was provoked when I punched Philip, but I still punched him. I still knocked him on his butt every chance I got. And I liked it.

Arlo saw it all?

It felt justified at the time. Now, I’m not so sure.

"Heard you haven’t been at the farm all week. Where you been?" Arlo presses.

"I'm taking a break for a couple of weeks to work on a different project."

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