AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I laugh hoarsely and pat his chest softly. “And you call yourself a Texan,” I say.
“Is knowing what a turd blossom is a prerequisite for being a real Texan?” he asks.
“No, it’s not a prerequisite, it’s a requirement. To call yourself a real Texan, you’ve got to have had some shit dumped on you and come up smelling like roses,” I tell him.
“And how do you know so much about being a Texan?”
“I went to college in Texas,” I tell him.
“UT?”
“Not UT, I couldn’t afford that. I went to Texas State in San Marcos. It was like Paris, France compared to Amorel,” I say and laugh as I remember how googly-eyed I’d been for the first couple of weeks.
“Where’s Amorel?” he asks.
“It’s where I’m from. Right in the armpit of Arkansas, just across the Tennessee border, and along the banks of the great Mississippi River.”
“Is it a small town?” he asks.
I laugh. “That would be a generous description. We have one road running through town and really, it’s just there because the railroad tracks need a place to cross.” I laugh.
I wiggle the toes of my healthy foot along his shins. “It’s why my feet are extra wide.”
He laughs. “This because of your childhood? Or is this a random Confidence fact?” he asks.
“My childhood,” I clarify. “I was barefoot all the time. Walking on hard ground with no shoes makes your feet spread and hardens them.” I miss the springy, fertile, cool soil of Amorel beneath my feet suddenly.
“I played barefoot all the time,” he says
“I didn’t play barefoot. I lived barefoot. I even went to school without shoes. And so did a lot of the other kids.”
“Barefoot? Were you …” He trails off like he doesn’t want to say it.
“Was I poor?” I ask and laugh. “It’s not a dirty word. I’m not ashamed of where I come from. Because look where it got me,” I tell him.
“Well.” He hums low in his throat like he’s thinking deeply. “I think you defied the odds, getting out of there to where you are now.” He leans back and looks down at me. “I have a feeling you left a string of broken hearts in town when you left, and I’m sure half of them never managed to make it out and come after you,” he quips.
“Yeah, no.” I laugh out loud at the idea. “There was nothing romantic about my existence. It was a hard life, but my town did everything they could to make sure I got out. And, there was no string of broken hearts.” I nudge the center of his chest with my nose. ?
??I was too busy doing chores, hunting, cleaning, going to school, and reading everything I could get my hands on.”
“See? You did what it takes to get out of there and your family helped you,” he says.
“Not by myself. And not because of my family. At least, not my blood family. It was the sheriff, my school librarian, the woman who ran the food market. Family, for me, isn’t because of blood. It’s because we decided to be each other’s support system.”
A strange expression crosses his face. “What? Does being a trust fund baby negate the need for family?” I ask.
“Of course not. And I don’t like that phrase. I’ve never been comfortable with the idea of being idle. I’ve worked since I left university. My brothers are the same way. We all have professions,” he says.
I pull back, “Profession? That sounds fancy. What did you do?”
“Nothing as fancy as a big firm lawyer,” he drawls. “I’m an accountant. Or I was,” he says and for some reason it tickles me to death. I laugh.
“You’re an accountant? You look like James Bond, the superhero version. I would never have guessed,” I tease. Kinda.
“Yeah, and I worked for my family’s company for a while. I’m the first Rivers in two generations to do so,” he says with pride.
“But, I think that if I didn’t have the benefit of all that money, it would have been a lot harder.”
