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Instead, she just goes back to her work, smiling like she knows something about Cole I don’t.
Whatever it is, I don’t have time to worry about it.
I need buy plane tickets for Texas.
11
COLE
“So,” I say, as I readjust my legs on the tiny plane for the millionth time. It turns out Amelia’s not just from Texas. She’s from small-farming-town-Texas. Like we got to Texas, and had to transfer onto an even tinier plane, because normal size ones don’t fly anywhere close to where she lives.
At least the weather is supposed to be in the sixties. It will be nice to get a break from New York’s harsh winter cold.
Amelia looks over at me nervously. She’s sitting by the window. The morning light makes her face look radiant. Like an angel up in the clouds.
I ignore the pull to reach out and touch her, just to see if she’s still as soft as she looks.
“Is there anything I should know about your parents, Amelia?”
“They don’t like city boys,” she says.
I bite back a smile. “And I’m a city boy?”
“You just...don’t look like a man who knows how to feed chickens.”
I swallow a laugh. “I think I can figure that out if it comes to it. What’s so bad about city guys?”
She ticks the reasons off on her fingers. “They have too much money. They party too hard. They don’t know how to fix a truck. And they’re all after my virtue.” Amelia rolls her eyes. “According to my parents, anyway.”
“Ok, I’m guilty of three out of four of those,” I admit.
Amelia blinks. “You know how to fix a truck?”
“Sure,” I lie. “Let’s go with that one.”
She still looks way too nervous.
“Hey.” I nudge her shoulder with mine. “I’m sorry about all of this. We can tell your parents the truth if you think they can keep a secret.”
“No,” Amelia shakes her head. “That would be worse. They’d be so disappointed in me.”
I try not to take that personally.
The plane tilts, preparing to land.
“Just, be nice to them, ok?” Amelia asks. “They’re not sarcastic like us.”
It’s cute that Amelia thinksshe’ssarcastic. Yes, she’ll fight back if you step on her or someone she cares about. But after a week of living with her, I can confirm that more often than not, the only thing coming from her mouth is honey.
This matters to her, though. So I keep my face serious and say, “I promise, I’ll be nice to your parents.”
Amelia’s smile blossoms and she relaxes into her seat.
She stays relaxed right up until the moment we land.
We pickup a rental car and drive out to her parent’s farm. According to Amelia, her mom works at the local grocery store,and her dad’s a mechanic. They raise chickens and a few other farm animals, along with keeping a big vegetable garden to stretch their income.
The house is small, but the sky above it is vast and blue.
