Page 38 of Rhett

The time rushes by, and before I know it, the school bell is ringing and kids are starting to scatter like the wind. Teachers and school officials come out to help guide traffic and…did Tripp tell them I’m picking up Meadow? Am I going to get a hard time? Tripp knows what he’s doing, and I figure he has that part under control.

Less than a minute later Meadow walks out with the two girls who were at her birthday party. When she spots me, she waves, tells them goodbye, then jogs over and gets in.

“Hey! Thanks for picking me up!”

“No problem. I got you water, chips, and granola bars. I didn’t know what you like.” I pull away from the school, feeling like a child in front of a thirteen-year-old. Not my best moment.

“Thank you. That was nice of you, but you didn’t have to do that. I can just eat at home.”

Which is a very good point, and one I probably should have considered. She’s a teenager. I doubt Tripp or his mom bring her food in the car.

I shrug off her comment because I’m not sure what to say. “How was your day?”

“It was okay. I have a math test tomorrow I need to study for. I hate math. It’s not my best subject.”

“I’m good at math. I can help you if you want,” I offer. See? I can do this. I can pick Meadow up and hang out with her until Tripp comes home. Forget the fact that she’s at the age where she can be home alone and doesn’t need a babysitter. Maybe I should have just told Tripp that I could come back later for dinner…

“Really? That would be great. Dad tries, and while he’s good at certain things because of his job, he’s hopeless with other stuff.” She chuckles.

“I can’t imagine your dad being hopeless at anything.”

She doesn’t respond right away, and I wonder if I said something wrong.

“That’s nice of you to say. He’s basically the best.”

“He is,” I agree. The way he loves and takes care of her, his friendship with Archer and how he treats East, the way he gave me a job and the way he makes me feel…important. I’m not sure there’s anything Tripp Cassidy can’t do.

“I’m glad you two are friends.”

I’m feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden, unsure how to reply, but Meadow keeps the conversation going, telling me more about her day, and about her dance class, and the new clothes she’s made for East and Archer’s dogs. She talks the whole way home, and I can’t help wondering how she does it. I’ve never been so chatty in my life, but listening to her makes me smile. It fills me with this lightness I’ve never experienced before.

She’s…what it’s supposed to be like to be young. What Ella was like despite growing up without a mom, and with a mostly absent dad, and brothers who were kids themselves trying to raise her. Somehow, Ella was all light and happiness, just like Meadow.

And now Meadow’s munching on a granola bar as she rambles, which means more to me than it probably should.

When we get to their place, I grab the bag with our drinks for tonight, and Meadow unlocks the door to the small two-story house. They live on about two acres of land. Tripp’s shop is out back, and it’s a lot bigger than mine, which makes sense, considering he does this for his career. The back of my neck tingles with the desire to go inside and look around, but I would never do that without Tripp.

“Do you want to sit at the table to work on math?” she asks.

“I always did my schoolwork as soon as I got home too.” I don’t know if that’s a rule Tripp set or if it’s her choice. “It was a rule at my house. Sometimes it was harder than others, but I’ve always done well with that kind of structure, so it worked for me.”

“Dad mostly trusts me to make the decision that’s best for me. Sometimes I like to get it done right away, others I’m tired and my brain needs a break.”

“That’s probably a good way for the two of you to deal with it. I…put a lot of pressure on myself, which wasn’t always a good thing.” And now I’m telling a thirteen-year-old my life story, when I’m sure that’s the last thing she wants to hear.

But she cocks her head, taking me in. “Are you better about it now?”

“I’m trying to be,” I admit.

“Good.” Meadow smiles. “Oh! Let me show you my sewing room first!” She takes off for the stairs. “Dad’s room is downstairs. We have two rooms up here—one is mine, and the other is my sewing room. It used to be the spare room, but I have too much stuff and, well, Dad spoils me.”

I chuckle. “Good of you to acknowledge.”

“I try and do my part,” she teases back, then opens one of the doors.

Two mannequins are standing against one wall, displaying outfits she’s working on. She’s got racks of clothes and tons of material and other supplies. One table looks like it’s for cutting and measuring, and on another sits her sewing machine.

“Are you sure you’re only thirteen?” I ask, stepping inside.

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