Page 70 of River & Rue

Wilder grunts in camaraderie, then gives me a minute to pull my split seams back together. I’ve barely steadied my breathing when he rips them apart again.

“It’s Rue, isn’t it?”

The woods blur as more tears fill my eyes. “Yes. I’ve been falling for her for years, maybe even in love with her. I just… I didn’t know. I couldn’t see it, Wilder. How could I not see her? What am I going to do? Even if it’s not too late, even if I manage to convince her to give me a chance, what about Ivy? She’s going to freak. What if I destroy their friendship? Mom and Dad call Rue their third daughter, for fuck’s sake. What if this wrecks the entire family?”

“Whoa there. Now isn’t the time to spin out about shit that hasn’t happened yet. Focus on yourself and Rue.” His tone turns dry. “As for the rest of us, we might surprise you.”

A burst of hilarity overcomes my panic. “Does everyone know? The entire Ashburn Psychic Network?”

“I’m not saying Mom and Dad have a bet going, but I’m not not saying it.”

A genuine laugh rattles out of me, sealing rifts and shaking other parts of me into new alignment. In its wake, tentative hope unfurls in my heart.

In the background of the call, my sister-in-law yells, “Go get your girl, River! Right now!”

I grimace. “Tell her I’m sorry about last night.”

Wilder chuckles. “Believe me, she’s less concerned about losing a night’s sleep than she is about losing money. Her bet was on you two saying hello to the elephant in the room by the end of the month.”

“Wow.”

“If it helps, she plans to donate the winnings to your after-school arts charity.”

“In that case⁠—”

I hang up.

A handful of seconds later, my phone vibrates.

Don’t beat yourself up over the past, Riv. You’re human. None of us can see in the dark. It doesn’t mean you weren’t reaching for her all along

In the wise words of Anne Lamott… “Hope begins in the dark.”

And in the wise words of my wife…

Go get your girl.

26

rue

​. . .​

main character energy

My fist freezes an inch from River’s door, stalled by my brain launching a thousand thought rockets at once.

What am I doing? This is a bad idea. Is it a bad idea? Maybe I can blame an LSD hangover. Is that a real thing? I feel fine, though. Tired and frazzled, maybe, but when am I not?

Otherwise, I’m fine.

Except for the lingering burn from the double shot of mortification I swallowed last night. But that’s trivial. On a personal scale of embarrassing behaviors, propositioning my best friend’s brother and having him overhear me masturbate are…

Actually, those are pretty high up there.

I hope he doesn’t think I was thinking about him. I wasn’t. Okay, I was, but he shouldn’t have washed my hair like he did—massaging my neck and scalp, humming and telling me I was a good girl when I leaned my head the right way. Who does that? Of course my imagination ran away with my common sense.

I’m relieved he bolted like a thief from the police. Super relieved.