Page 51 of Strike Zone

We do a good job depleting our food stash. My bladder is about to burst from my big gulp, but we’re almost home.

“This is part of our land.” I nod towards the fields coming up on her right. Her eyes go wide as she looks over the rolling hills and green pastures.

I turn on to the dirt road that leads to the main house. I expect my mama and Willow will be waiting for us on the front porch. They will be quick to turn Wren’s visit into a spectacle. Colt, Mason, and Ford are likely down at the main barn fixing the planter still. I’ll go check on them once I get Wren settled.

“All of this is yours?”

I nod. “We had more. It’s been parceled off here and there to other farmers. We’ve kept around five hundred acres or so.”

Her jaw drops in disbelief. It is a lot of land. My siblings and I have a vice grip on a dream to make this place something to remember. Every year we talk about selling a few acres and making it work with less. Every year we can’t do it. Even knowing the sale of the land would change our current financial situation we can’t seem to bite the bullet.

The tires on the truck kick up dirt and gravel, announcing our arrival. Right on cue, the front door opens and my entire family steps out onto the wrap around porch.

I hop out of the truck and salute them as I make my way to Wren’s door. She hasn’t moved since I put the truck in park. “Hey, you’re gonna be fine.” I give her thigh a reassuring squeeze then unbuckle her belt for her.

With a nod, she slides down gracefully from the cab of the truck. I take her hand in mine. I expect her to deny me. Instead she twines our fingers together and squeezes. The gesture makes me a little dizzy.

“Whatever you do, don’t look anyone directly in the eye. That’s how they weaken your resolve and get you to spill the beans. If you do get caught up in their web, know that anything you say will be used against you later.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

“There’s my boy,” my mama yells from the porch. She rushes down the steps to greet us.

“Hey, Mama.” I give her the best hug I can while still holding on to Wren’s hand. “Mama, this is birdie.”

“Let go of her. Let me see her.” I drop Wren’s hand so my mom can give her a proper hug. “Nice to meet you.”

Wren is stiff in her arms, but gently pats my mom’s back. I don’t think she’s used to genuine affection from strangers. Or maybe anyone.

“Mama, let her breathe.” I tug on Wren’s shoulder and release her from my mom’s hold. “Do me a favor and introduce her to everyone. I’ll be right back.”

I run toward the house with Wren scowling at my back. “Sorry, birdie, nature calls.”

I handle my business as quickly as I can. I don’t trust my siblings to keep their traps shut. If I don’t hurry, they’ll be telling Wren embarrassing stories about me before she even has a chance to shake their hands. They are sweet and vicious creatures. Every last one of them.

“You brought her home. She’s the one you’ve been texting me about.” My sister leans against the wall outside the bathroom door with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Jesus, Willow.”

“Mama said you were bringing your girlfriend home. I didn’t believe her. Yet, here she is in the flesh. Your texts made me think it wasn’t serious. I didn’t even think you liked her.”

Do not make direct eye contact. Do not make direct eye contact. Do not make direct eye contact.

“We’re friends. We were together when Mama called,” I say, staring at the faded floral wallpaper above Willow’s head.

“And of course she told her to come on down with you. Just friends, huh? You want me to find out if she likes ya?”

“Do you want me to tell Mama how you really feel about her famous lemon cupcakes?” The glare my sister gives me could cut glass. “Wren is my friend. Don’t make this into something more than it is.”

“I would never do such a thing. You may want to get in there. Colt was just about to tell her about your buckaroo stage.”

Panic flares through my body. “He sent you to distract me,” I snap. Colt and Willow have always been thick as thieves. They are the closest in age and have a special bond.

“I admit nothing.” She doesn’t have to. Her grin says it all.

I race down the hallway toward the living room. Skidding to a stop, I scan the room for Wren. My dad is sitting in his favorite chair with his bad leg propped up on an ottoman.

Ford has Lenny sitting in his lap on the other side of the room. Mason is standing behind them. In the middle of the couch is Wren, absorbing every tall tale Colt is telling her. It’s almost worth being the butt of the joke to see Wren smiling the way she is.

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