Page 20 of Homebound

She creaks back in her rocking chair. “Why’re you so pissed at Wyatt, anyway? Don’t you want to at least hear him out?”

“Not really,” I say. “He’s going to leave again anyway, so what’s the point? I’d rather just be civil to him this summer. Like roommates.”

I suck in a long drag, needing an extra moment to gather my thoughts. “But I’m pissed ’cause we used to spend every summer together and then talk almost every week on the phone when he went back to Nashville, but then he stopped returning my calls. He wouldn’t even respond to my texts. Then, I read somewhere online that he had a little girl, and that was the last straw. That’s the kind of shit you tell your friends, you know?”

At least, that’s what I thought I’d been to him, but I’m not about to force anyone to be my friend. If someone doesn’t like me, that’s okay. I like who I am.

Luna comes back, dropping the tennis ball at my feet. This time, Alanna throws it for her. “You’re only pissed because you miss him,” she says, calling me on my bluff. “And I mean, he did have a kid. I’m sure that’s kept him pretty busy.”

“Yeah, but he still could’ve called,” I grumble. “I know he’s this hotshot NHL player, but it’s not like I was asking for much. I would’ve been satisfied with a few Happy Birthday texts, but instead, I got ghosted by my so-called friend. Men should know how to communicate by now.”

“Ugh, I know,” she agrees. “And when is manspreading gonna go out of style? There’s no way your balls need that much room.”

She blows out a perfect smoke ring, kicking up her cowgirl boots on her back porch. The cicadas hum to life now that the setting sun is about to dip behind the oak trees.

There’s nothing more beautiful than a Texas sunset sprawling across the Hill Country. I’m a morning person, but this is my favorite time of day—when the heat is about to burst, and the clouds look like they’re on fire.

“That Wyatt Patterson’s a looker though.” She whistles. “The whole town’s talking about him being back. I heard Ms. Thompson talking about setting him up with her granddaughter in the grocery store.”

Ms. Thompson’s granddaughter is in no way good enough for Wyatt Patterson, but like hell am I saying that out loud.

“Damn, it’s weird hearing people call him attractive,” I say, trying to picture it, but I can’t. “He’ll always be the little flower boy that followed me around every summer.”

I toss the tennis ball again for Luna, but she must’ve had enough because she plops down next to me on the porch, rolling over for a belly rub.

Damn, do I love this dog.

Alanna passes me the joint, and I’m definitely high now because I’m squinting at the longhorns in the field splattered with yellow wildflowers, thinking about how one of them has a spot that looks like the birthmark on Wyatt’s right ass cheek.

I saw that once when I dared him to go skinny-dipping in the stock tank the cattle drink from. He spent the whole time trying to shield his dick from me, but he did it. That boy used to do anything I asked. He spoiled me, and he was always too good for me.

“So you and Wyatt never...?” she prods, blowing another smoke ring.

“Never.” I grimace. “I’m two years older than him, so I’ve never thought of Patterson like that. I know two years isn’t a huge gap now, but when you’re teenagers? It’s massive. When I was sixteen, he was this gangly fourteen-year-old. He’s like family. Not like a brother, but like... a cousin.”

She swats her curtain of wine-stained hair over one shoulder. “Wyatt Patterson is really sexy, though. He looks like an archangel you want to rough up a bit, you know? I’m not into single dads, but you should fuck him for the plot.”

“No. Even if I were attracted to him, I couldn’t. Especially not after he drunkenly peed the bed with me in it at my eighteenth birthday party because he drank fuck knows how many beers. I ruined that kid’s innocence. I had to wash all my sheets three times, Lana. It kind of killed any romantic notions I could’ve had.”

Admittedly, at the time, I thought it was hilarious. I’m used to shoveling horse shit, so a little drunk pee doesn’t scare me away. I used to tease him about it, but anytime I brought it up, the tips of his ears would turn bright red, so I stopped because I didn’t want to embarrass him.

Little giggles splutter out of us.

“Yeah, there’s no coming back from the friend zone after that,” she says, clutching her stomach. “RIP Sexy Patterson.”

I salute her with my joint. “My thoughts exactly.”

9

BANANA PANCAKES

DAKOTA

“You’re the… ah, shi—darn!”

There’s a loud clang and something tumbles to the floor. I rush around the corner of the kitchen to find Wyatt with his hair tied back at the nape of his neck, holding a screaming baby in one arm while running his other thumb under the kitchen sink. His white T-shirt and sweats are covered in what looks like pancake batter.

He’s a right mess.