Page 130 of Love in Riverbend
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“SORRY, RICKY. THERE’S SHIT TO DO HERE. TELL YOUR MOM THANKS. I’LL TAKE A RAIN CHECK.”
* * *
I scrunch my nose. Rain check
Who the fuck says rain check?
Backspacing over the last sentence, I try again.
* * *
“…MAYBE ANOTHER TIME.”
* * *
Do I want another time?
Is that too forward?
Will Ricky think it’s weird?
Back space again. The cursor sits after the word ‘thanks.’ Yeah, that will do. I don’t need any more explanation than that.
“Fuck,” I growl as I throw my head back.
Swallowing, I remind myself I’ve eaten hundreds of meals at the Dunns’ house. Ricky has eaten hundreds at my house. Never once in the past have I been a pussy about it.
Pussy.
My breathing quickens.
Oh, dear Jesus, don’t go there.
At least my self-talk is no longer audible.
Without sending the text, I throw the truck into drive. Gravel pelts the bottom of my truck as I head toward the Dunns’ farm. Nothing has changed as I pass the big white barn. The lane is dark with only the illumination of my headlights until I turn and make my way toward the garages. The old house is lit up. Parking my truck next to Devan’s car, I see that it’s still filled with shit. The trailer probably is too. No time to unpack since they made it home.
My palms are sweaty as I push my hands into my jean pockets. A floodlight comes on as I walk toward the house. By the time I knock, my mouth is dry.
Janet Dunn calls from inside. “Justin, come on in. Family doesn’t knock.” She’s placing bowls on the table filled with chili toppings. There’s cheese, sour cream, onions, and crackers. Ricky’s mom—Devan’s mom—smiles at me. “I’m glad you could make it.”
“Um, Jack said…” I shrug. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“What can I get you to drink? Everyone is upstairs cleaning up. It sounds like you had a busy day. I’m so glad you could help. Jack thinks he can carry a couch, but he can’t. You probably saved him from traction.” She laughs.
“Iced tea,” I say, rocking back on my heels and looking around. The large kitchen is the same as it was before I knew BK’s identity, and yet it feels totally different.
“We have some craft beer from that new brewery in Bloomington,” Ricky says as he enters the kitchen. His dark blond hair is wet, and he’s pulling a clean shirt over his bare chest.
My thought isn’t about the beer, but that, hopefully, my showering won’t be seen as odd. It isn’t like I’m trying to impress…it’s a shower. Ricky showered too.
Devan comes down the back staircase, typing on her phone with a big smile. It’s when she looks up that her smile momentarily disappears. “Oh, Justin. I thought you couldn’t make it.”
“Devan,” Janet says, “where are your shorts?”
Devan lifts the hem of the sweatshirt, revealing sexy, soft short-shorts.
