Page 77 of Lost and Lassoed

“It just really sucks to be on unequal footing with your best friend. It sucks to feel like you don’t need me anymore, and it sucks to feel like I can’t talk to you about it because I don’t want you to feel bad for focusing on building a life with the person you love.

“And do you want to know what sucks the most? The fact that maybe I have a chance at that—a chance at a person who gets me and wants me—and you respond by trying to talk me out of it.”

“I’m not trying to talk you out of it,” Emmy interjected.

“Aren’t you?” I asked. “Then what are you saying?”

“What I’m saying is that at the end of the day, I don’t know if this thing with you and Gus is going to work out or go past the summer. Cam is going to come home, and you’ll go back home. You won’t have Gus to distract you from figuring your shit out, and when that happens, I’m still going to be Gus’s little sister, and I’m still going to be your best friend. I need both of those relationships to survive this. And Gus, he’s just got a lot of responsibilities…”

I don’t think Emmy meant to hurt me—I mean, she didn’t throw a punch like Gus, but her blow landed nonetheless.

And it landed hard.

There weren’t a lot of things that people could say that would hurt me, at least enough to provoke any sort of response from me. I had a thick skin, but my best friend basically telling me thatIwas the problem here made me feel like my chest had just been cracked wide open with the hilt of a knife—the pain of it made me lurch forward slightly.

It was quiet for a minute, as my best friend and I surveyed each other. Emmy held her ground, but I’d expect nothing less from her. She was fierce as hell.

Well, so was I.

“Have you ever thought,” I said gently, “that maybe Gus tells you he doesn’t want a relationship because he’s afraid to let himself want it? Because he feels like all his focus should be on taking care of all of you, and he’s terrified to let himself slip?” I wasn’t trying to hurt my best friend with that, just to tell her something.

“And as for me…” My voice was still soft, but the gentleness had gone. This part wasn’t about Gus and me, or Gus at all. This was about my best friend and me—about the fact that she seemed to see me exactly the same way thateverybody else did. “Maybe I’ve never taken anybody else seriously because no one has ever taken me seriously, but Gus does. Both of us take care of other people, our families, our friends—you—and that makes us the only people who know how to take care of each other. It makes us good for each other. It makes what we’re doing worthwhile.

“And it hurts that you don’t see that. It hurts that you’re more worried about how this relationship is going to affect you than how good it has been for me.” I looked up at the blue sky and took another deep breath. “Because it’s been the best thing, and I thought you’d be able to see it. I thought you could see me.”

I saw it then, the regret in Emmy’s face.

“Ted—” Emmy said, but I held my paint-covered hand up.

“No,” I said firmly. “You said what you needed to say, and so did I. I’m fine. We’ll be fine. I just need a beat. Okay?”

“Okay,” Emmy whispered.

And so my best friend reluctantly walked away, and I went back to painting the back of my garage.

Chapter 34

Gus

The night had arrived. Brooks had finally gotten his goddamned mechanical bull installed at the Devil’s Boot, and tonight was the first night that people could ride it. It was also the first night in a long time that I was leaving my house not with or for my kid.

Riley was hanging out with my dad tonight. They were having a sleepover in a tent in the small patch of forest behind the big house. Riley was fucking stoked about it.

I spent a little extra time picking out a shirt—a white Henley that Emmy bought me—and shaving. Normally, I’d just throw something on and go—all of my clothes were mostly the same. There wasn’t really anything that wouldn’t match—but I was sure Teddy was going to be there, and I just wanted to look nice or whatever. I didn’t fucking know.

I’d seen Teddy work the Devil’s Boot, and if I wanted to hold her attention, I needed to put in a little effort.

Honestly, I was a little nervous about seeing Emmy. I hadn’t seen her since I’d heard from Teddy the other day. When her name lit up my phone screen, I grinned like an idiot. When Ipicked up and Teddy asked, “Do you have time to talk something through with me?” I grinned even bigger because it felt so ordinary, but also a big step toward a relationship that felt real—the type of relationship that would last.

That’s when she told me about Emmy and the fight they’d had.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Everything about it sucked, and I didn’t think it would suck. And the way the conversation started was fine, but the way it ended just…”

“Sucked?” I finished.

“Yeah,” she sighed and then was quiet for a second. “Is it okay?” she asked. “That I told her about us?”

It was probably one of the best things that had ever happened: Teddy wanted to tell her best friend about us, which meant that we meant something. But I tried to be chill. “Yes, Teddy. I’m happy you did.”

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