Page 62 of We Redeemed the Rain

Tag

All that typing for a thumbs up?

To my delight, at 7:59 p.m. Tag joined me at the kitchen bar stools for dinner. It was a quiet meal. Our utensils scraped against the plates, ice clinked in the glass cups, and taco shells crunched. He kept his eyes down almost the entire time. The silence didn't bother metoo much because it seemed to spin his story in its own way, showing me just how high Tag’s walls truly were.

But my confidence suddenly popped as I watched his hands shake a little.

Scribbs had shared that he rarely had family meals growing up. Did sitting at the table make him nervous? Or did I put him on edge to the point of shaking?

I worried I’d never find out.

NINETEEN

Bea

When I booked my little getaway, I had every intention of resting, playing Glory, and digging deep for the inspiration I needed. But all that changed.

Now, I wanted to be where Tag was and do whatever he was doing. But I’d have to be blind to see how uncomfortable he was around me. I didn’t want to unnecessarily hover.

Earlier that morning, I sat down to strum some songs and ended up scrolling social media “for just a few minutes” first. Funny how fast an hour melts away. The last place I needed to be was online. As expected, Adrienne was already getting up and after it, rocking and rolling with her reels, lives, and event planning. I wasn’t jealous. She could have it all.

Over the weekend, her texts had tapered off. I think it finally clicked in her mind that,yes, I did seriously need a break and,no, I wouldn’t be making any concrete plans.

After sixty minutes of fretting and answering comments on a few tour videos I was tagged in, I deleted my apps. Because social stress was a kill shot to my inspiration.

I ended up putting Glory away without even tuning her.

When my phone rang, I rushed to answer it, thankful for someone to talk to.

But, of course, it was the warranty company bearing bad news. My stomach dropped to my shoes. I didn't want to deliver more problems to Tag. Because I wasn't privy to Meadowbrook’s income, I couldn't know for sure…but based on the things Tag had said, how few employees Meadowbrook had, and the overdue bills I’d found…I figured the ranch had intense financial needs.

If Tag wanted advice, Peter would help him. Peter was an accountant and very adept with money management. If it ever came up in a conversation, I would volunteer Peter for on-the-house guidance. Assuming Tag and I ever had a real conversation. Pipe dream? Probably.

It was nearing noon. Maybe taking Tag a sandwich would prime him to hear that the semi didn't have an active warranty.

Thirty seconds after I hung up with the warranty company, Peter, of all people, rang my phone. Always delighted to talk to my Irish twin, I answered with a smile. “Ah, Peter! I wasjustthinking about you.”

“About how much you miss me?”

“Just about your financial advice.”

“Aw. How sweet. I miss you too, Beatles. Is something up financially?”

“Oh, no. I just met someone who might need help at some point.”

“Gotcha.”

“How are things going?”

He took a deep breath, sounding uncharacteristically serious. “Well, Dad is home for a few days. Sarah and I are going over for dinner. I think everyone is coming, actually.”

“Oh.” A pang stabbed in my heart as I imagined my beloved family gathering around my parents’ table. “That soundssofun. Give Mom and Dad hugs for me.”

“I definitely will. We all miss you.”

“I miss you guys, too.”

“You getting some R&R?”

---