Page 47 of The Surprise

“What?”

Still nothing. But his expression isn’t good.

“Just tell me now,” he says. “I’ll be home soon, but I want to know what happened.”

Silence, again, and a sinking feeling’s starting in my belly. Eating an entire hamburger and float felt like a good idea at the time, but now I’m starting to think it wasn’t my smartest move.

“So we lost it?” He barely pauses. “I don’t understand. But you said—”

He swallows and looks out the window.

This time, his voice is very small. “Can we appeal it?” And now it’s explosive. “How can you say that?”

His hand strikes the window, hard.

“Fine.”

He pauses again.

“Why do you care? I’ll be home soon.” He hangs up.

I open my mouth to ask what happened, but I realize it doesn’t really matter. They lost the ranch, clearly. And now I have to go home to the jerk who stole it from them—or, you know, who cost them the ranch, anyway—and listen to him gloat.

Why did I think this was going to go well? I know my dad. He’d stab a kitten in the eye for twenty bucks. Luckily, we’re only a few blocks from the ranch Ethan just lost, so the pained silence doesn’t stretch for very long.

“I’m sorry.”

My words drop like water on a hot skillet, doing nothing at all. Hissing into the night helplessly and then gone.

“It’s not your fault.” Ethan turns toward me then. “You know, when Mom told me that the judge—” He shakes his head. “I thought I’d be really upset if we lost it, because I love that ranch.” His broad shoulders slump a little. “I feel like I’m closer to my dad there, but when my mom said we lost it, the first thing I thought was, ‘No way. I’m not leaving Beth.’”

My heart lurches, drunkenly, staggering as if from a blow.

“I’m not going,” he says. “Mom can appeal it, or if she doesn’t, then. . .” He throws his hands up in the air. “I don’t know, but that’s not it. I’m not done yet.”

“Ethan.”

He looks at me, his face not crestfallen or angry. He’s energized, ready to fight for what he wants. But I don’t see the guy I’ve come to adore. The guy I think I love. The guy I’ve never been good enough for.

What I see when I look at his adorable, handsome, devoted face is Nippy, the coyote. I see his trust in me, his genuine goodness, and his hope for the future. And I know that, if given half a chance, my dad will do even more damage to Ethan than he’s already done today. He’ll shoot Ethan right in the head and never lose a minute’s sleep over it.

Only, I can’t survive something like that with just a few days of crying. I can’t stand by and watch as something as beautiful, as good, and as amazing as Ethan is ruined. I’m older now. I’m stronger now. I’m braver now. And that’s how I’m capable of doing what I should have done years ago.

This time, I run that coyote off before he can get shot.

11

Ethan

After my dad died, I felt numb.

Like nothing really hurt me. But nothing really made me laugh or smile, either. It felt like I’d been wrapped in a huge roll of bubble wrap, and I was walking around totally untouchable.

Of course, not feeling anything is better than hurting.

But it’s not great, either.

No pain, no joy. No sadness, no delight. No despair, no elation.

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