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He laughed at her praising insult, glad he and his mother were no longer on the outs. “I don’t either, Mama. I don’t either.”

“Love isn’t easy, my precious boy. Even if it starts out that way, it can’t stay that way. When you love, you open yourself up to numerous vulnerabilities and worries and responsibilities you never imagined existed because suddenly there’s someone else in the world who’s more important to you than you are. That’s what makes it so tough.”

He closed his eyes. “There’s your famous words of wisdom.” And yet it still didn’t solve his dilemma, or tell him which path to take, it merely explained why he felt what he felt.

“If your father was here, he’d probably say something like, if you want to let the best thing in your life pass you by and grow old alone and miserable, go ahead and let the girl go. Makes no difference to me.”

Cooper grinned. “He would, wouldn’t he?” Thad had always said something gruff laced with warning and an undertone of insightful, loving advice. Suddenly choked up, he squeezed his mother’s hand.

“You’ll figure it all out,” she promised, squeezing back. “I have faith in you.”

Yeah, well he wished he had a little faith in himself, because as it was, he wasn’t so sure if sending Jo Ellen away had been the stupidest, most-selfless, or best thing he’d ever done.

* * * *

“Well, this blows.”

Emma Leigh plopped into the cool metal folding chair beside Jo Ellen and sniffed out a disgusted breath as she situated her sleeping son into her lap.

Toying with her clear plastic cup full of ultra-sweet punch, Jo Ellen sent her twin a sad smile. “Not what you were expecting?”

“Hell, no. None of the cruel bitches who used to call me a dike are even here. I so relished the moment when I could throw Branson in their ugly, fake faces.”

Sitting on the other side of her, her husband stirred where he’d been trying not to fall asleep; Jo Ellen had caught his head nodding more than once already.

Patting Emma Leigh’s hand, he smiled indulgently. “I do love being the object of revenge.”

“A sexy, successful, charming object of revenge,” Em reminded him, fluttering her lashes.

Branson’s gaze turned smoldering as he grinned at his wife. Jo Ellen loved the way he looked at her sister, and he’d done it from the moment Dexter had introduced his best friend to the twins the first week they’d moved to Reno to live with his parents their senior year. There had never been any question how he felt.

Jo Ellen sighed aloud without realizing it, wishing things with Cooper hadn’t ended the way they had, wishing things hadn’t ended at all, wishing she could read his feelings just by looking at the expression on his face.

She was so busy thinking about him and watching the way Em and Branson held each other’s hands on top of the table she hadn’t realized they’d turned their attention to her until Emma Leigh asked, “So, have you seen him here yet?”

Jo Ellen gulped and tried not to burst into tears. “No. Not yet.” Instinctively, she knew after what had happened yesterday he wouldn’t show today.

“Well, if he’s coming here straight from Dallas, then I’m sure he’ll be a little late.”

Eyebrows quirking, Jo Ellen frowned at her sister. Dallas? Why would Cooper be in Dallas?

Em leaned closer and lowered her voice, “But if you ask me, I hope the slimy little rat bastard doesn’t show at all. I’m still so mad at him after all these years I’m libel to strangle him as soon as I see him. No one deserts my sister after impregnating her and—”

Oh, they were talking about Travis. Jo Ellen hadn’t even thought about him since Cooper and she had parted. Suddenly, she agreed with her twin. She felt like strangling Travis too for his part in helping her lose Cooper yesterday.

“Em,” Branson hissed, glancing around. “Your voice is rising.”

“Shit.” Emma Leigh slapped her hand over her mouth. Her worried gaze veered to Jo Ellen. “I’m sorry,” she muffled out. “I don’t think anyone heard.”

Jo Ellen shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.” Keeping her teenage pregnancy quiet didn’t seem so important anymore. In fact, she almost wanted it public. Her poor, innocent baby shouldn’t be a dirty, little secret.

She took another drink and spotted a new arrival in the entrance of the school’s gymnasium. The tart punch in her mouth instantly turned sour.

Travis had arrived.

With company.

A petite woman strolled at his side, tow-headed and reeking of sleek sophistication. But what upset her most were the two children surrounding them, one old enough to be seven or eight, possibly nine years old.

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