Page 75 of Lost and Lassoed

Everything with Gus felt so…real.

Because I felt real when I was with him. I didn’t feel I had to be all of the things people expected me to be when I was with Gus. I loved being those things sometimes—but I didn’t have to be. This idea that I could shed my skin, that I could—god, this is so stupid—let my hair down, made me crave him.

I liked who I was—I liked, or at least respected, every part of me—and it felt good to show someone the parts that I kept to myself, whether it was out of necessity, or love, or insecurity, or whatever else it might be.

But there was another important layer to this entire situation: Riley.

I’d always loved the kid, but just like my feelings for Gus, my feelings for his daughter just kept growing. I didn’t know the first thing about being a parent, and Riley already had two really good ones, but I did know that there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her.

A landscape was taking shape on the side of the garage—I didn’t do those very often—next to the portrait I’d done of my dad last summer. I didn’t have the heart to cover that up.

“That’s pretty,” Emmy said. I looked up, and she was walking toward me, looking like a regular cowboy sweetheart in her boots, shorts, and Coors Light cropped T-shirt.

“Thank you,” I said. “I’m not sure what it is yet.”

“I brought you guys dinner from my dad. It’s inside, but Hank said you were out here.”

“You sound tired,” I said. Emmy looked kind of…low.

She sighed. “Mommy issues got brought up in therapy today—absolutely exhausting.”

“Ah.” I nodded. “Those will get you, won’t they?”

“So annoying, really,” Emmy said, smiling slightly.

“At least your mom died,” I said with a shrug, repeating a line I’d said to her many times before. It always made us laugh, even though it probably shouldn’t.

“True,” she laughed airily, and I knew what was coming. “She didn’t just give me to a drummer and head on her way.”

Emmy and I broke into a fit of giggles. Our mommy issues were different, but if we didn’t laugh about them, we’d cry. And we did do that—sometimes—but mostly we laughed and held each other upright when we thought we’d fall. It was nice that we still had this, even though our friendship had changed over the past couple of years. This would be one of the ways she would always need me, and I would always need her.

But then Emmy looked at me, and the last hint of a giggle stopped abruptly.

“What is that on your neck?” she asked, getting closer to me. “Is that…ahickey?”

I immediately brought my hand that wasn’t holding a wet paintbrush up to cover the red mark on the side of my neck—right where it met my shoulder—that I thought was too faded for anyone to notice.

“No,” I said quickly.

Emmy swatted my hand away from the hickey I wascovering up. I tried to bring my hand back to it, but she had hold of my wrist.

So I did what any normal person would do: I raised my other hand—the one that was holding the paintbrush—to my throat and painted over the hickey.

“Teddy!” Emmy exclaimed. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What the hell is wrong withyou?” I countered. “This is quite literally battery, Clementine!” I was trying to push her away, and she was trying to get closer.

“I know you’re not sleeping with the vet anymore.” Her green eyes bored into mine. “So who the fuck is sucking your neck?”

Without thinking, I told my best friend the truth. I didn’t know how to lie to her. “Your brother!” I blurted.

Emmy went still. Her eyes were still on me, but I don’t think they were seeing me. I knew the signs of an Emmy spiral, and I could see one starting. After a second, she shook herself out of it and smacked my arm lightly. “You’re lucky I’m not like Gus, or I would’ve punched you in the face! Did you think about that?” Her voice was elevated.

“It’s not my fault you won’t let me have a secret!” I said back. “But I think this is a good time to bring up how upset you were when Gus punched Brooks in the face, so maybe you should stop yelling at me.”

“I’m not yelling!” I watched her realize that she was in fact yelling. She took a deep breath. “I’m not yelling,” she said, this time at a normal volume. “I’m just…This is a lot to take in, okay?”

“Understood,” I said. “I was going to tell you.”

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