Page 34 of Lost and Lassoed

“Not tonight, kiddo. I’m going to spend some time with my dad, okay?” I said as I pulled her into my side for a hug.

Riley pushed out her bottom lip and started to pout. “But I want you to stay here,” she said.Well, just take a knife to my ribs, why don’t you?“I want to talk about the plants.”

“We’ll talk about the plants on Monday, okay? I promise.”

“No, I want you to stay.” Riley hit her little fist on the ground. I’d seen this little temper flare a few times. Remember how she had a Cam moment earlier? This one was all Gus.

“Riley,” Gus said, his tone soft but firm. “Teddy gave you her answer. She’ll be back on Monday. It’s important for her to spend time with her dad, too, okay?”

Riley huffed before she murmured “Fine” and threw herself into my arms for a hug. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too, Sunshine. And we’re going to hunt the shit out of those plants on Monday, okay?”

Gus grumbled something under his breath—probablycomplaining about the swear word, but he truly had no leg to stand on with that argument, so I ignored him.

“Okay.” Riley nodded. I kissed the top of her head, then stood up.

“I’ll see you soon,” I said to her, then walked toward the back door—not bothering to say goodbye to Gus.

Chapter 17

Gus

Riley and I were going to Emmy and Brooks’s house for dinner. After my blowup at Emmy during family breakfast, I was surprised that I’d even gotten an invite.

I felt like shit about it—especially because Teddy had mostly been fine, and having her around was actually really fucking helpful. When she offered to help with dinner the other night, I’d wanted to say yes, because making dinner was the last thing I felt like doing. I wanted to shower and rub the tension out of my muscles, but the line between my historical dislike for Teddy and the way I’d been feeling about her recently was already way too blurry.

Then there was that shit about the plants and how excited Riley was about hunting down a bunch of flowers with Teddy that made my throat tight.

I wasn’t about to admit it outright, but Teddy filled in some gaps that Cam and I couldn’t. Neither Cam nor I had a creative streak. Both of us were logical and competitive—two things that Riley definitely picked up, but she also liked to do things with her hands—make shit—and I didn’t know howto help with that. I didn’t want Riley to grow up thinking she could be only one thing or that her only choices were things her parents or family were.

Teddy was good at that creative shit. Last week, she and Riley went to Teddy’s and got a bunch of fabric scraps and brought them back to my house. They spent all day nailing them to flat pieces of wood that they’d found, trying to make landscapes.

When I got home, and Riley told me what they’d been doing all day, my first thought, which I obviously didn’t say out loud, was that that sounded stupid.

But Riley thought it was the best thing ever. Then, when she actually showed me what she’d created, I was floored. What they’d created was interesting and…fun. I wanted to hang it up somewhere. That night, we called Riley’s mom and told her all about it. Later, I’d gotten a text from Cam that said, “I think Teddy was a good call.”

And I told her I agreed.

But Teddy didn’t need to know that.

Emmy and Brooks lived in a small bungalow deep in the holler behind the Devil’s Boot. Brooks’s dad left him the bar and the house when he died. It was the only thing he’d ever done for Brooks.

My truck rolled to a stop in front of the bungalow, and before I’d even turned the engine off, Riley had unbuckled herself from her booster in the backseat, opened the door, and jumped out.

My little lunatic.

By the time I got out of the truck, Riley was already opening the front door. As soon as she did, she looked back at me. “Auntie and Uncle are kissing!”

Of course they were. Lucky that’s all they were doing.

Emmy appeared in the doorway a second later and waved. I made my way up the stairs to her front porch and pulled her in for a hug. “I’m sorry about breakfast,” I said.

“I know.” Emmy hugged me back. “I was just trying to help.”

“I know,” I sighed and pulled back. Emmy and I looked a lot alike—more than her and Wes or him and me. It was weird, because I was the spitting image of Amos Ryder, so you’d think Emmy would be too, but the older she got, the more she looked like our mom. “And you did,” I said. “Help me, I mean.”

“I did?” Emmy smiled.

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