Page 17 of The Best Parts of Him
Mostly he was here because Bellamy had invited him along, but Dabbs was done with the impromptu interview. “Just visiting. I’m going to go check out this booth over here. Wanna come?”
Hint, hint: hang up on the world and hang out with me instead.
“Sure!” Ryland said, clearly not getting the hint as he skipped over to a booth selling digital art. “The thing about Maplewood,” he told his viewers, “is that we’re very much into the shop-local trend. Although, considering we always have been, can you technically call that a trend?”
As he continued to prattle on, Dabbs moved out of the phone camera’s frame, casually, so it didn’t look like he was trying to get away. He ended up by a display holding art depicting a tall, skinny, leafy tree that looked like it had arms. A sign labeled it as Mabel, the Maplewood Monster.
Huh. So this was what Mabel looked like. Not at all what Dabbs had pictured in his head when Ryland had mentioned it. He’d imagined something more like the Ents from the Lord of the Rings movies.
He purchased a print of Mabel for his youngest sister, then purchased a couple of beaded bracelets for his other sister and his mom from a neighboring vendor. He’d lost Ryland somewhere along the way, which, if he was still Instagramming, was for the better. So he got himself a lemonade from one of the food vendors and found a quiet spot to sit under a tree.
When Ryland texted him a few minutes later to find out where he was, Dabbs texted back, and a few minutes after that, Ryland arrived, holding a paper bag by the handles.
“Hey.” He dropped onto the ground next to Dabbs. “Sorry I lost you. I promised my viewers a tour of the festival, and I don’t like to disappoint.”
Dabbs leaned back against the tree trunk and crossed his ankles. “Do you do lives often?”
Smile slipping, Ryland cocked his head. “You’ve never seen one?”
“I don’t have social media.”
“Yes, you do. I follow you.”
“Let me rephrase. I have it, but I don’t do anything with it. I don’t even have the apps on my phone. My team’s social media manager runs my accounts. We meet once a month to discuss the content for the following month, and she takes it from there.”
“A few of my teammates handle their social accounts that way too. They’re very private.” Ryland seemed to clue into something there because his eyes widened, and he winced. “Shit. I should’ve asked if you wanted to be in my live. I wasn’t thinking.”
Dabbs nodded, grateful Ryland had come to the conclusion on his own. “I don’t share much of my personal life with others. My professional one? It can be picked apart by people I don’t know until they’re blue in the face. My personal one? That belongs to me and the people I choose to share it with. People will talk, of course, but I don’t have to feed the gossip.”
“Yeah. I hear you.” Ryland sent him a grim smile. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Now you know.”
“Yeah.”
He looked so glum that it wrenched something sideways in Dabbs’ chest. “What’s in the bag?”
“Hm? Oh, I got a few things for Callie and Tasha, which, now that I’m thinking about it, they really don’t need.” He gave a short laugh. “They’ve already got a zillion stuffies between them. One of the vendors was selling crochet stuff, and . . . well, this one’s for you.”
Ryland handed him a crocheted ice cream cone with two smiling scoops: one pastel green and one butter yellow.
Charmed and pleased in equal measure, Dabbs waved it in Ryland’s direction. “It has hands.”
“Cute, right?”
“And it’s holding a hockey stick.”
“Do you know Ethan Gallagher? Plays for Seattle? He’s from Maplewood too, so you’ll see random hockey merch almost everywhere in town. Ethan even has a milkshake named after him at Red’s Restaurant.”
Dabbs tapped Ryland’s knee with his foot. “But not you?”
“Eh.” Ryland’s shrug clearly tried for insouciant, but it came across as hurt little boy. “I never asked, so . . . ” Another shrug. “Anyway. Do you like your ice cream cone?”
Dabbs played with its arms. “It’s very cute. Thank you.”
“Her name is Shannon.”
“Why?”
