Page 23 of Duke
She’s laughing for real now. “You and the modeling. We don’t make men’s boots, remember?”
“Not yet.” I wag my brows. “Maybe I could convince you to give it a shot on the ride up to Aspen. I got some ideas.”
“Of course you do.” She runs her tongue along the bright pink seam of her bottom lip. “Lemme think about it, okay?”
“Me coming with you? Or Bellamy Brooks’s first men’s collection, the one that’s rugged yet polished and sells out in under a minute?”
She beams. “Both.”
I hold up my hands. “I ain’t going anywhere. Unless you give me the chance to take a trip that just might change my perspective and my life for the better.”
“MyGod, you’re shameless!” She gives my shoulder a playful shove.
This electricity between us is back. Suits me just fine. But I know it spooked her the night we met.
I’m determined not to scare her away again. Figure I’ll just be myself, listen to her as best as I can, make her laugh, and hope for the best.
I feel like we’re already making progress.
“And I’ll work for free,” I add. “Just to sweeten the deal. C’mon, Wheeler. You can’t say no to that.”
She closes her eyes and throws up her hands. “Fine! Fine, you can come. But I really do have to work on this trip. I don’t mind you partying—”
“I’m not interested in partying.”
“You say that now. You’ve never been to Aspen.”
“And you’ve never had me as an assistant. Here, how about I get your number?” I dig my phone out of my pocket, giddy that I finally have an excuse to have her contact info in my phone. “I’ll start doing some research and send you a route and itinerary. Any snack preferences I should know about? Twizzlers are my favorite road trip food. And are you a podcast kinda girl, or do you prefer to listen to music?”
Her eyes are bright as they bounce between mine. “Since when are you an overachiever?”
“Since forever. Number, please.”
____
We hit the road at four a.m. two days later, on a Thursday.
Patsy, God bless her, pours us each an enormous thermos of coffee and hands us a paper bag on our way out. When I openit, I find that it’s filled with foil-wrapped breakfast burritos and homemade crackers with pimento cheese.
“Y’all be safe.” Patsy pulls me in for a tight hug before whispering, “And have fun. You deserve it, Duke. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
Patsy, as our adopted mother figure, knows as well as anyone in our family that I dream of living life on my own terms.
I think about her words as I drive the rattling U-Haul through the gray light of dawn. The pavement, the flat, sprawling land, the clear sky—it’s all different shades of the same color this time of day. Pretty in a weird, moonlike way.
I feel like I should know what I’m looking for, but I don’t, other than a change of scenery and maybe a gigantic neon sign pointing me toward the path I’m meant to be on.
I wouldn’t say I feel lost. More like stuck. Bored. The restlessness that’s plagued me for as long as I can remember is only getting worse.
Is this just what happens when you’re twenty-seven? The quarter-life crisis people talk about? No one I know seems discontent with their lot in life. Doesn’t help that three of my brothers have paired off in quick succession over the past six months. Not only have they found their purpose, they’ve also found their people.
I’m happy for them. Truly. But I also wonder why I haven’t found my purpose yet or my soulmate. Makes me wonder if I just expect too much. If the freedom I’m seeking just doesn’t exist.
All I know is life today sucks a lot less than it did yesterday: I’m heading to Colorado on a Thursday with a pretty girl and a truck full of pretty boots. Not a cow or so much as a whiff of manure for miles.
The highway is empty. The endless space before us opens up a similar space inside my chest, giving me more room to breathe. Feels nice.
Also feels nice to drink coffee in contented silence beside Wheeler. She’s bundled up in a pair of sweats and a jacket, her hair in a knot at the top of her head. No makeup, at least not that I can tell.
