Page 4 of A Hard Habit to Break

“Sure. What do I have to do?”

“Well,” he said, thinking about his requirements. PawPaw hadn’t asked. He just was. “You have to cheer me on at the games or over the phone. You have to scream the loudest, but not in the phone, and… you have to always celebrate when I win.”

“How often do you win?”

“All the time ’cept for today. That’s why my PawPaw went to Glory…” He trailed off.

“Now that I’m your biggest fan, what are you gonna give me?”

Noah patted his pockets. They were empty except for a stick of gum. Which he treated himself to on game days. Tobias had warned too many sweets could ruin his teeth. Noah had taken to brushing them twice a day ’cause he didn’t want to lose those, too. He had saved this month’s allowance, but he didn’t want to give Rachel his money. Then an idea came to him.

“My dad always says happy wife, happy life. You could be my wife.”

“A wife? That’s when I’m a grown-up. What do I get right now?”

“My mama wears a ring?”

“You gotta ring?”

“No,” he said, exasperated. “I don’t have a ring.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Well, what do you got, Noah Calvary?”

“A stick of gum,” he said, unsure if it was enough to earn her loyalty.

She held out her hand. “I’ll take it.”

He reached for his pocket, then thought better of it. There wasn’t a clean spot on Rachel. “We should probably wash up first.”

She moved on long legs, longer than his, to the water. “Let’s say I’m really good at being your biggest fan,” she said, running her wet hands down the front of her jeans, ignoring the water dripping onto her cowgirl boots. “Then what do I get?”

She held out cleaner hands, and Noah gave up the sweet gum he’d saved for himself.

“If you’re really good, then a wife needs a house. I’ll build your house right here.”

“A house and a ring,” she repeated his promise. “And a cat. I like cats ’cause they get to roam without a leash, but they always come back home.”

“Alright,” he groaned, “but that’s it. You can count on me. I’m six.”

“I turn six soon. How do I know you’re telling me the truth?” she asked, tearing the gum in half to offer him a piece.

“Because a Calvary man’s word is his bond,” he said, repeating the words his father taught him.

“Prove it, ’cause people break their word to me and my daddy all the time.”

“Okay. I’ll give you something special, then you have to believe. Deal?”

“I already got your stick of gum,” she said, not swayed by his words. Nobody gave him this much trouble. He’d promised three things, and she’d gotten his treat.

Undeterred, Noah pointed to the crumpled papers in the grass, held down by a pair of scissors with a pink handle. “Let me have those scissors.”

She narrowed her gray eyes with suspicion. “For what?”

“’Cause I need the scissors to give you something special.”

Rachel handed them over reluctantly. Noah threaded his fingers through his hair, then grabbed a tuft. With scissors in hand, he cut straight down the middle of his head.

He thrust a handful of sheared curls at his new fan. “Here.”