Jesus.
This is why I work with kids.
Because they’re fucking amazing.
“You doing okay?” I ask her.
Her face twists, and her eyes get shiny. “You know my dad hasn’t called to ask me that?”
I look up at the ceiling and blow out a slow breath so I don’t say anything I shouldn’t say in front of June.
“I mean, I told him he was dead to me, but I thought parents were supposed to fight for their kids or something.” She laughs shakily. “He hasn’t even issued a statement on the news, like, calling out the stupid gossip sites for saying mean things about me. Like I said. He’s a dick. But I don’t think you are. And even if it doesn’t work out with you and my mom, I want her to decide that for her. Not because of me.”
I have to swallow twice before I can answer her. “I’ll do everything in my power to not hurt her.”
“Thank you,” she whispers. “She’s sadder than she was when Gran—when she found out Dad was cheating on her.”
“You know I know about your grandma, June.”
“It’s Junie,” she mutters. “And, like, so does half the school.”
I lift my brows.
She scowls at me. “Okay, fine, I started to tell Vivian one time, and I chickened out, because so many of my friends back in Cedar Rapids turned into cuntnuggets when—what? I can say dick, but I can’t say cuntnugget?”
I’m still wheezing in shock. This is a new one for me. “Exactly that.”
She’s wearing the same mischievous smile that Maisey had on the day she informed me my puzzle piece was wrong last week and made me take off my third sock.
Yes, I’m a man who comes prepared to a strip-puzzle game.
Which is not an experience I expect to have again for well over another year, and I’m okay with that.
It’s also something I need to stop thinking about in front of Junie.
“Anyone here give you grief over the gossip sites last week?” I ask her.
She shakes her head, and I believe her.
“Pretty sure they won’t care about what your grandma did either. You didn’t do it. And besides, you have the Tony-and-Gingersnap factor working to your benefit.”
“Can you tell me more about them?”
“Yep.”
She waits.
I let her.
“Now?” she prompts.
“Oh. No. Not now. I’m saving those for family dinners with you and your mom.”
She blinks at me twice to hide her eyes going shiny, and I have to swallow hard one more time myself.
I’ve always said I went into teaching because I remembered how hard this age was. And Kory isn’t wrong when he says I love building them up and letting them go so I don’t get attached.
But I’m attached.
I’m attached, and I have zero regrets.
Chapter 36
Maisey
That damn bear is back.
“Aren’t you supposed to be hibernating?” I ask Earl as he loafs under my bedroom window.
He pauses and looks up at me like I’m the problem here.
I grunt at him.
He grunts back.
“Shoo, or I’ll make you. Junie’s getting home soon.”
It’s Friday.
One very, very long week down since I flew to Tampa to get Junie. With soccer over, she’s been riding the bus home, and yes, she grumbles every day about the long walk up the driveway.
Like she doesn’t run around soccer fields for fun.
And like she doesn’t willfully walk even longer on the nights she gets dropped off at Almosta Ranch up the road to help Kory with his animals now that she has more time.
God, it’s good to have her home, even if faking all my cheerfulness has been a total pain in the ass.
I pull out my phone and shoot her a quick text. Earl’s here. He’s under my bedroom window. Be aware.
Earl snuffles around eating something on the ground.
I squint.
Whatever it is that has his attention, I can’t see it. “Don’t make me get the hose, Earl. It’s too late in the year for sprinklers.”
He snorts at me once again, then plops his rump down right there, right outside my bedroom window, and buries his nose in the ground.
My phone dings.
Well, that’s unexpectedly convenient, Junie has replied.
I reply with a side-eye emoji.
Teenage sarcasm isn’t my favorite this week.
I finish folding my laundry and glance out my window again.
Earl’s freaking taking a nap.
Right there. Right outside my bedroom window.
I sigh. “If you’re planning on hibernating outside my bedroom, Earl, you’re about to have the worst winter of your life.”
My phone dings again.
It’s Junie. Again.
I was thinking we should donate a statue of Gingersnap to the town. You know, like, in honor of your uncle Tony and all the stuff he and Gingersnap did for the people here. Like this one.
She includes a picture of a bronzed cow, and despite my mood this week, I still find a smile.
That’s a really sweet idea, I text back.
And once again, I get a near-immediate response. Glad you think so, because I invited the cow-statue committee over to hash out details at five.
“What? ” I say out loud to my phone.
It dings again like Junie heard me. Don’t worry, Mom. Everyone’s bringing food. They know you’ve been under the weather.
I rush out to the living room. We’ve been eating like frat boys this week. Take-out food, frozen meals, sometimes just microwave popcorn, all of it while sitting in front of the television watching Junie’s favorite shows.
She suggested The Princess Bride early in the week, but when I burst into tears, she dove for the remote and turned on Bob’s Burgers instead.
She didn’t ask.
I didn’t explain.
But I know she knows there’s more to the story than I went on a couple of dates with the high school soccer coach.
And now she’s bringing friends over to talk about how to erect a statue for the old cow that Flint helped us bury on our first day here, and I’m not okay.
But I will be.
Oh God, not again, Junie texts as I’m halfway through a quick clean of the kitchen.
She should be here soon. She should be walking up the driveway.
Alarm bells go off. Not what again? I ask. Oh no. Is Earl in your way?
I dash to the bedroom to see if the bear has moved, and—
Oh my God.
He hasn’t.
But he’s about to.
Because there’s a man on a horse charging full steam at him.
I fling open my bedroom window.
“Shoo, you ugly beast,” Flint yells at the bear.
I gape.
And I gape some more.
And then I blink back the heat in my eyes and tell myself it’s Kory coming to my rescue, just dressed up like Flint, which is basically the most ridiculous idea I’ve ever had—they look nothing alike—but no.
That’s Flint.
Galloping our way on Parsnip, Uncle Tony’s old horse, and disturbing the bear.
“What are you doing?” I yell at him.
He flashes me a grin from under his baseball cap as he pulls the horse to a stop a few feet from the bear and me. “Got a note that Earl was bothering you again. Try not to get me thrown off my horse this time, yeah?”