Page 43 of The Story We Wrote

“What should I aim for?” I asked Aspen. The rest of our friends dispersed, walking to other games, leaving her and metogether. She took a moment, her eyes taking in the animals hanging from the booth.

“I think one of those big snakes suits you well,” she replied, bumping me with her shoulder. I wanted to bring her back from wherever she went mentally after seeing Miranda. Maybe I’d ask her about it later. I wasn’t going to poke too hard.

A snake may suit me, but it definitely didn’t match her. I stood touching my chin as I pondered the prizes before me. There were so many stuffed toys to choose from. I knew what I wanted as soon as I saw it.

I took out my wallet and handed the guy enough money to pop every single balloon if need be. The skinny teen running the booth handed me a bucket full of darts and explained the instructions in a muted tone. He didn’t give a single shit and didn’t want to be here.

One after another, I aimed for the highest-valued target. Just like before, Aspen stood by my side and rooted for me to win.

“Aim up top! Get the green!” she shouted.

I did exactly that. Green was the highest value, and to win what I wanted, I was gonna need them all. When I was sure I popped all the green and a few blues along the way, I looked at the kid for my total.

“Do I have enough for that?” I asked him with a grin, pointing to the biggest stuffed bunny I’d ever seen. It was light pink in color with a white chest. Aspen reminded me of a bunny, playful, velvety, and gentle. The kid looked at the tiles and added them up with his calculator on his phone.

“Yeah, sure.” The kid grabbed a step ladder and came to the front of the booth to get down my prize.

“You definitely aren’t the bunny type,” Aspen joked.

“Well,” I started, taking the bunny from the kid before he could come down the ladder. “This isn’t for me. It’s for you.” I handed the bunny to her and she took it hesitantly. The stuffedanimal was nearly the size of her, so she had to hold it with both arms to make sure it didn’t drag on the ground.

“Me?” she asked, peering around the body of the animal. “You won this forme?” I couldn’t help laughing while looking at her trying to handle this huge bunny. It engulfed her; she was completely hidden behind it.

Shrugging my shoulders, I replied, “You remind me of a bunny. I saw it and couldn’t resist.”

Aspen laughed, her head tipped back, and the artificial lights fully illuminated her face. Damn, she wascaptivating. I held out my hand to take the rabbit from her. There was no way she’d be able to take this all the way back to the truck.

“Let’s go find the rest of the crew,” I said, tucking the bunny under my arm. Stealing more of those glances I loved, I caught her smiling to herself. My plan to bring her back from whatever funk took over seemed to be successful. The only question was, where would she put this damn bunny?

Twenty

Aspen

Life at the farm stand had been crazy. Traffic was picking up, and I had less time during the day to complete the additional tasks I had to accomplish. I rarely worked this hard, even at The Coffee Cup. Not only was I the face of the stand, but I also handled all the inventory, prepping, and operational logistics completely on my own. I wasn’t complaining; in fact, I’d rather be busy during the day to make the time go faster.

The night after the rodeo, I started plotting out my story and created a timeline of key events I knew I wanted to include. Boone and his damn bunny sparked something inside me.

I came home and plotted so much that my brain was mush, but that was the easy part. Connecting events was what would be the hardest. I was chipping away a little every night before I went to bed. I read somewhere online that if I aimed for five hundred words a day, it would take about five and a half months to write a full-length novel. That brought me a little comfort to know that I didn’t need to overwhelm myself to get the story done. Taking my time and letting it flow naturally has been beneficial so far.

Around mid-afternoon, I usually see a lull in traffic. I took this time to prepare or make things easier when closing up at night. Today though, I had an unexpected visitor.

Parker walked through the open doors, looking around like he was taking in the space. I stood up from counting the number of honey jars I had remaining on the display table.

“Hey, Park!” I said, putting my clipboard on one of the empty round tables in the center of the stand. I gave him a long hug, squeezing him tight.

“I needed to come by and see what my sister was doing to the place. I have to say, it makes me a little jealous I didn’t ask you to come work for me,” he said, letting go of our embrace. I motioned for him to sit at the empty table.

“Can I get you anything? A drink? One of my muffins?” Parker loved my muffins too, not more than Boone. When I worked in town, Parker would come visit often and take a muffin for the road.

“A muffin is perfect,” he replied. I made my way around to the baked goods cabinet and pulled out the second to last muffin. I already took one out for Boone earlier this morning, so I didn’t need to worry about him not getting his fix for the day. I cut the muffin in half to run it through the toaster. Parker liked his warm with a little butter. I brought him the plate and sat down with my cup of coffee. I needed the caffeine to “pick me up” to finish the next few hours.

“How’s it been living and working on the ranch?” Parker asked.

“It’s been amazing. Hard work, but I welcome it,” I replied.

“I’m glad to see you’re happy,” Parker said. “Despite what Mom and Dad think, I’m proud of you for sticking to your guns and not letting them change your mind.”

I thought about that and how wrong he was. I was a complete pushover when it came to my mom and dad. I didn’t stick up formyself or tell them about wanting to be a writer. Instead, I let them think I was going to follow their dreams for me. “Well, I don’t really know about that,” I responded.