Page 162 of The Friend Situation

“You’re starting shit,” I mutter.

“I should apologize in advance. They’re really going to adore you, Weston. Just hope you’re ready to be initiated into the family.”

I lean over and kiss her cheek. “I look forward to it. Seriously. Easton fought Lexi’s brothers. He even gave one of them a concussion. I think I’ll be fine.”

She shakes her head in disbelief. “My brothers are rodeo champions. Grew up working on the farm and are built like brick houses. Please donotfight them. Matteo and Dean would enjoy it way too much. Why do you think Samson wouldn’t date me in high school?”

“I’m not afraid of your brothers,” I admit.

“You should be,” she confidently replies. “And my cousins—Jake, Lucas, and Hudson—are even scarier. They’reveryprotective of me, Wes, and they’re going to put you through the paces. I hope you’re prepared.”

Brody snorts, barely containing his amusement, and I glare at him.

“I’m not concerned.”

“Good. It’s settled then.”

With that, she pulls her laptop from her bag, and the familiar click of the keyboard soon fills the air. Her eyes scan the screen while she rereads what she wrote on the plane. I lean over to steal a peek, but she quickly covers it with her hand, a grin on her lips.

“You can read it tomorrow when I post it,” she whispers.

“Fucking proud of you,” I tell her, my voice full of sincerity.

“Thank you. I’ll take my gold star now,” she replies teasingly as she returns her fingers to the keys.

We zoom away on the long road, which opens to rustling brown grasses and the occasional tumbleweed. There’s nothing on either side, except rustic Texas mountains and pastures that go on until the horizon. This place is untouched by the concerns of city life. When I imagine small towns, Merryville comes to mind.

An hour later, we’re merging onto the main drag of the town, cruising at a leisurely twenty miles per hour. I roll down the windows when we’re in the heart of downtown.

Around us, the smell of fried food fills the air, and colorful carnival rides have sprouted in the heart of the town square. The bright lights that lace the streets twinkle like stars against the dusky sky. Food trucks line the perimeter, and my stomach grumbles in response. I catch a glimpse of the grocery store and a cozy coffee shop nestled among the other small businesses. As we slow at an intersection, my eyes zero in on Glenda’s Diner, and it’s exactly how I imagined it. The parking on the street is packed. As we drive by, chatter and laughter, mixed with country music, floats from inside.

“Oh, there’s Glenda’s,” she says, glancing from her screen with an excited glint in her eye. “I think it rivals the diner in the city.”

“Guess we’ll see,” I reply, excited to experience it with her.

Soon, we’re leaving city limits. Text messages flood in, making Carlee’s phone buzz nonstop.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“Perfect. They’re fighting over where we’re staying right now.”

We turn onto a road, the tires crunching over gravel, and then we slide under a freshly painted sign for Jolly Christmas Tree Farm.

“My mom has space, even though my sister is currently living with her after her divorce. My grandma and aunt have room too. I’m going to have to let them duke it out.” She laughs lightly, and the sound warms something in me.

“Oh, turn right here, and it’s at the end of this road,” she says to the driver. “I have to introduce you to my grandma first. Otherwise, she’ll never forgive me.”

“Are you nervous?” I ask, trying to read her expression as the woods on either side of the road start to thin out.

We’re coming to the end.

“A little,” she admits, a hint of vulnerability slipping through. “I haven’t been home in three years. And I’m returning with a fiancé. Not how I imagined it.”

“Would you change it?” I ask.

“No,” she whispers, studying my lips.

We finally roll to a stop in front of a charming log cabin. Vehicles are parked haphazardly in the field beside it. The warm glow of lights spills from the windows inside. We have an hour before the sun sets.

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