Page 92 of Confessions of the Funny Fat Friend

Tyler rolled his eyes. “You’re a child.”

Rhett stuck out his tongue. “A strong one.”

I laughed at the two of them. “Is it always like this?”

“Most of the time,” Tyler answered at the same time Rhett said, “When he’s home.”

While Rhett helped Tyler get our bags unpacked and they teased each other mercilessly, I excused myself to the bathroom. I took my time, looking in the mirror and making sure my hair was okay and none of my makeup had gotten messed up on the plane.

When I came out of the bathroom, I walked down the hall, hearing voices in the bedroom. Rhett said, “Did you see the way Mom looked at her? I think she’s already in love.”

“It’s impossible not to love Hen,” Tyler said.

“I get where you’re coming from,” Rhett replied. “Not in a ‘steal yo’ girl’ way, but a ‘man, my brother is lucky way.’”

I smiled at their conversation and made sure the floorboards creaked on my next step.

They went silent, and I reached the doorway. “Ready when you are.”

55

Tyler

The second we got outside, Liv ran to the pickup and reached the front door. “I’m driving!”

“Shotgun!” Hen called.

Rhett and I stared at each other, stunned, as our sister and my girlfriend got in the front of the ranch truck.

Liv fired up the truck and craned her head out the open driver’s side window. “You snooze, you lose!”

“I feel like I’m five again,” I muttered.

Rhett patted my shoulder. “Can’t win ‘em all.”

We walked to the truck, and I got in the seat catty-cornered to Hen, wanting to see all her reactions to the ranch as we drove along. After Rhett climbed in, Liv put the truck in drive and started down the rutted trail toward the barn.

Liv pointed out Hen’s window. “This is the barn up here, and we keep the horses in the pen right next to it, especially this time of year, so we can supplement their feed. That black and white horse is Rhett’s. The reddish-brown one is Dad’s. And then that darker brown one is kind of like the family horse. Whoever’s helping out gets to ride it because it’s the oldest and the easiest.”

“I call that one,” Hen said with a smile.

“We’ll take you out on a ride to the creek tomorrow,” I said, excited to show her one of my favorite spots.

Liv stopped in front of the gate to the main pasture and said, “Rhett, you grab the gate.”

“No way,” he said. “Hen’s shotgun; she gets it.”

“She’s our guest,” Liv said.

Rhett shrugged, a smirk on his lips. “Rules are rules.”

“Come on, Hen,” I got out of the truck, and she climbed down too.

“What’s this shotgun rule?” she asked, walking to the gate with me.

“When we were younger, we always argued about who got to ride up front, so Dad’s rule was whoever sat shotgun had to open the gates. Made it a little less appealing. Especially because some of these are hard to open.”

“How do you do it?” she asked, a look of determination on her face.

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