Page 38 of Wild and Wrangled

A bang on Dusty’s passenger-side window startled both of us, and when I looked back at it—oh, shit—I saw my mother.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Camille Ashwood, get out of this car. Right now.” She was yelling. My mother didn’t yell—it was normally just cold disappointment.

Dusty’s arm was still wrapped around me, and when my mother spoke, it got tighter. “Is that your mom?” His voice sounded shocked, maybe even kind of scared.

I nodded and looked back at him. “Let’s get out of here,” I said.

“What?” he asked.

“Take me somewhere. Today has been so…amazing, and I can’t deal with her right now,” I said. “Please.” My mom hit Dusty’s window again. She tried to open the passenger-side door, but it was locked.

“Ash, I…I can’t. She’s your mother. I think it’ll just make things worse. I’ll come get you tonight, okay? Maybe after everything has…died down?”

I felt my eyes well with tears, but I nodded.

Dusty kissed me again—he didn’t care that my mom was watching. “I’ll get you out of here someday, I promise.”

Chapter 18

Cam

Riley and I were perusing the aisles at the craft supply store in town this morning. I could count the number of times I’d come in here on one hand. This week was Riley’s last week of school before the holiday break, and one of her friends taught her how to make friendship bracelets out of embroidery thread, and she was determined to make as many as she could for Christmas gifts.

“Daddy will want a green one,” she said as she pulled a couple of different green embroidery flosses off their hooks.

“Good choices,” I said. So far, we had a slew of pinks, purples, and reds. The greens would be perfect for Gus, and I grabbed a couple of yellows, too. “Are they all going to be monochromatic?” I asked and Riley looked up at me, confused. “One color or different versions of the same color.” I nodded toward her hands. “Like how those are all green but different greens.”

“Mon-o-chruh-mat-ik,” Riley repeated quietly to herself—memorizing the word and storing it away. Smart girl. “No.Auntie and Teddy and Ada are going to get rainbow ones,” she said.

“They’ll love that,” I said. “What about Papa?”

“Yellow, I think,” she said with a nod. “Because he said he misses the sun and summer.”

“That’s thoughtful, Riles,” I said.

“What color do you think Dusty will want?” she asked as we went back to perusing. I froze.

“U-uh,” I stuttered. “I didn’t know you were making one for Dusty.”

“I have to make him one,” Riley said. “He lives in our backyard, Mom.” Good point. “Do you know his favorite color?”

“Blue,” I said without thinking. Images of blue sour straws on a hike, blue Jolly Ranchers in a truck’s center console, and a blue margarita at Chili’s flashed through my head. “His favorite color is blue.”

—

After we bought out half the embroidery floss in the store, Riley and I walked down the street to the coffee shop. It hadn’t snowed in a few days, so the sidewalks and roads were mostly clear, but it was cold as shit—even though the sun was out. I held Riley’s gloved hand in mine as we walked. Well, I walked. Riley had some pep in her step today—and every day—and her walk was more of a half skip.

It was little things like that, or the way she squealed when she ran, that made my heart swell up in my chest. To me, it meant that she felt safe and happy—loved. I never would’ve done any of that as a kid. When she talked constantly or danced in the kitchen without any sort of inhibition, I hoped that she never lost her joy.

A bell rang as we opened the door to the coffee shop. We were immediately hit with warmth and the smell of coffee and warm sugar. Even though The Bean had always been a Meadowlark institution, it had come under new ownership a few years ago, and they had really stepped up their game.

Once we were inside, I let go of Riley’s hand, and she made a beeline for the pastry case—checking out all of her options before we ordered.

I felt eyes on me as I waited in line. It hadn’t been that long since the not-wedding, and people clearly still hadn’t moved on. I didn’t want to know what they were saying—I didn’t care. Well, I did care, actually. Deeply. But it was easier to pretend that I didn’t.

After a minute, Riley scampered back to me. There was only one person ahead of me now. “So,” she said, “what if you get something and I get something, and then we split it?”

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