“Will you tell me about it?”
Everett’s voice is so soft and gentle, I could almost miss it, if it weren’t so quiet. For once, the radio is off, and even though we’re on the road, there’s no traffic. It’s just the tyres on the asphalt, Everett, and me.
“It’s a double storefront. Someone had already knocked it through, but ran out of money before they could renovate and use it, so the bank foreclosed. Mum and Dad bought it at auction, built their businesses, and had Jay all in the same year.”
“They sound pretty amazing.”
“They are.” I smile wistfully. “It just feels like they’re letting all their hard work go.”
“They’re not letting it go, honey,” Everett says. “They’ve worked their whole lives. Now they’re ready to retire and enjoy themselves. Enjoy everything they’ve worked for.”
Amie said the same thing, and I knew then that she was right. Everett is right. But I can’t help but draw parallels between what my parents are doing and what I’m fighting the urge to do, and projecting all my self-loathing onto them. I need to change the subject.
“Is Bethany still hanging around?”
“Is that something that worries you, honey?” Everett turns his head to face me just for a second before looking back at the road ahead.I hum quietly. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t spent an inappropriate amount of time thinking about Bethany swooping in and stealing my man. I hate admitting it. It makes me feel weak and pathetic to admit that Everett’s ex-girlfriend bothers me, after he’s shown me a million times in a million different ways how much I mean to him. After he’s told me I’m the only one he wants. His fingers tighten around mine again.
“Bethany Tate has meant nothing to me since the end of the summer after senior year. When I found out the reason she didn’t want to have sex with me anymore is because she was getting it from someone else instead. Until I bumped into her a few months ago, I hadn’t even thought about her for years.” Everett moves his hand to my knee and squeezes.
“Honey, listen to me,” he continues. “Trust me, baby girl. Please, trust me when I say this. Bethany Tate is nothing to me. Bethany Tate could parade in front of me in nothing but hot pink nipple tassels, and I wouldn’t even care.Youare my woman, Ruth. You’re it for me.”
I exhale slowly, one of many weights lifting just a little off my shoulders.
“I wanna take you somewhere,” Everett says after a moment. “I need to go see someone, and I want you to come with me. Will you?”
He’s not saying who, or where, but all of my neuroses aside, I know I’d go just about anywhere for this man.
“Okay,” I whisper. “I’ll go. Anywhere you need me, I’ll go.”
I’m pretty sure I hear him whispereverywhere.
It’s almost an hour before I start seeing signs for Skillett, and the sun is dipping lower, casting the outskirts of town in a pretty golden hue. I close my eyes against the setting sun, and it’s not long before Everett is easing the truck to a stop. I don’t open my eyes again until he’s already hopped out, and he opens the door beside me, offering a hand to help me out, too.
“Where are we?”
“This is where we laid Grandaddy Smith to rest,” Everett says quietly. I don’t miss the way he’s breathing slowly and evenly, carefully. He doesn’t say anything else, just tangles his fingers between mine and leads me to the small building at the other end of the open, almost-empty car park. My trainers and his boots crunching on the gravel is the only sound.
“You don’t have to go in,” I say when he hesitates outside the wooden door.
“No, I do. I want to. I need to,” he says. “Will you come in with me?”
“Of course.”
He maintains his grip on my hand as he pushes the door open, and side by side, we take slow steps towards a wall covered in small plaques. It takes a moment or two of scanning the names before Ev drops my hand and lifts his to trace a finger over an engraved name.
Franklin Evanson Smith.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been by,” he whispers, then clears his throat. “It’s, uh. It’s been hard to come back here. The last place your soul was with us. But we’re gettin’ by, without you. It’s tough. I’m lookin’ after Mom, and Ash, and the ranch. We’re all gettin’ by.
“And I brought someone to meet you. I went to an airport, and I fell in love with the most beautiful girl. Her name is Ruth. She’s a lawyer, Grandaddy, she’s so goddamn smart. Pardon my language. And she’sso damn beautiful. You’d love her, I just know. Anyway, I wish you could meet her for real, but I guess—” His voice cracks, and he sniffs loudly. “I guess this will have to do.”
My heart splinters and then cracks, and it’s not until I notice my vision is fuzzy that I realise I’m crying. Everett is, too, one hand on the wall beside his grandfather’s name, and the other swiping at his eyes. I rest a hand on his back, and he turns into me, gathering me in his arms. I let him take all of my strength, everything I have; I pour it into him, and he inhales deeply, lips pressing into my hair. We’re quiet for another long moment, holding each other in the dim light.
“Thank you,” he whispers. “For being here. For being you.”
“I’ll always be here,” I answer. My heart will always be here, it will always be his. And lately, I’ve been wondering more and more if my body could be here, too. If I could move from London to Texas, leave my family and everything I’ve ever known, to be with the man who is everything I want.
We hold each other until the light outside fades, and there’s just the dim glow of dusk filtering in through the half-open door.
