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A quick glance over my shoulder shows that the pump is still running, but he’s got his arms crossed, and his scowl is fierce.
Not in a chatty mood. Fine.
I climb out of the car, stretching my legs and intending to make my move to take over driving for a while. Anything to distract myself from the real reason I’d pushed Reece into that conversation.
I thought that maybe if I could figure out what he wants out of life, I could figure out if there might be room for me in it.
Because I can’t deny it any longer. I want Reece Sullivan in my life.
I just have to figure out how he fits.
Chapter 32
LUCY, TEN, REECE, ELEVEN
“Yuck, I got an orange one. Trade?” she asked, holding out her Popsicle to Reece and staring longingly at his purple one.
He rolled his eyes. “You know it says the flavor on the wrapper. You could just read.”
Even as he said it, he reached out and traded her orange Popsicle for his much preferable grape one.
They were sitting on the old Big Toy. Mostly unused these days, except by Brandi and her friends. Rarely did Lucy and Reece sit here together as they had on that first day after Reece’s mom had died.
Lucy looked at him out of the corner of her eye, wondering if he was thinking about the sad memory, but he looked more interested in his Popsicle than anything.
Reece had come for a sleepover with Craig, but Craig had gotten sick less than hour after Reece arrived, barfing up all his grilled cheese and tomato soup.
Lucy felt terrible for thinking it, but she was a little bit glad that Craig got sick. She never had Reece all to herself.
“So what’s up?” he asked.
She fiddled with the Popsicle wrapper and tried to think of something to talk to him about that wouldn’t seem too babyish or girlish.
“My class had a career day today. Shelley’s dad is a firefighter and he brought in a real hose for us to look at.”
“Cool.”
He didn’t sound that impressed.
“My mom came in too. To talk about grapes.”
He looked a little more interested in that. “I like grapes.”
She gave a sheepish look at the grape Popsicle she’d stolen from him, and quickly changed the subject. “You want to go into the industry?”
The industry around their town referred to the wine business. According to Lucy’s mom, Charlottesville, Virginia, was an up-and-comer on the wine scene.
“Yeah, I guess,” Reece said, finishing off his Popsicle and chewing idly on the flat wooden stick. “My dad used to work at the wineries, and his old boss came over the other day. Told me to call him if I ever wanted a job.”
“So that’s what you want to be when you grow up?” she asked eagerly. She loved talking about being a grown-up. “A winemaker?”
He looked annoyed and shrugged. “I guess. I don’t care.”
Lucy was puzzled. How could he not care? “I want to sell people the wine,” she said, hoping that if she told him her dreams, he’d tell her his. “And I’ll wear tall shoes, and I’ll wear a skirt every day, and my hair will be perfect,” she said, running a hand over her chronically messy ponytail.
“Cool.”
Lucy frowned. “What about you? What do you want?”
