Page 112 of Riding the High

I reflect on the way my father has tried to control every choice I’ve ever made, every friend I’ve ever had. The way he talks to everyone around him, his staff, even my mother sometimes. As if they’re almost beneath him. It’s how he treats me too, the only difference being that he calls me “darling” or “bella” when he pushes me toward all the places and people in my world that are right for him but not for me.

Cole encouraging me to say how I feel has made me grow more powerful. He’s pushed me to take my place, wherever that is and however it may be received by those around me, including Edward Danforth.

With Cole and Mabel, in the most unlikely situation this summer, I’ve felt needed, trusted, wanted for exactly who I am. And honestly? It’s the closest thing to true love I’ve ever felt.

Our arrangement is up in a few weeks, but I don’t want to leave. And like anything else I’ve ever wanted, I know I have to take the bull by the horns and tell him how I feel. If we’re going to crash and burn, at least I’ll know I did my best to give us a real shot.

“See, you wrap this piece over the top of these other two strands,” Mabel says beside me, pulling me from my thoughts and teaching me how to make the simplest bracelet in her kit.

“I only have one other strand,” I say, holding my wonky bracelet up in defeat. Jo and Mabel laugh.

“No, darlin’,” Jo says, eyeing what I’m doing. She scoots over beside me, reaching down to my bracelet and comparing it to hers. “Here’s your problem,” she says, and her eyes meet mine before taking my bracelet into her hands. “See, you’ve got this one little strand here and two here. You need to weave them into each other.”

She crosses the one through the other two, repeating the action a few times before I get the hang of it. Mabel munches happily on our delicious, still slightly warm jam on toasted homestyle biscuits.

“You were missing a step. Leaving your one lonely little strand out there on its own,” Jo says, taking a bite of her own biscuit. “You can’t make anything strong like that, honey. Three strands together make an unbreakable cord, much better than one can make on its own.”

She winks and smiles at me. Suddenly, I feel like I’m no longer taking bracelet advice. Maybe CeCe is right—maybe this woman really does know everything.

“Makes perfect sense,” I say.

“What do we have here?” Wade calls as he makes his way out the patio door.

“Uncle Wade! Try my jam!” Mabel squeals, picking up a jam-covered biscuit and handing it to him. He eyes up the label before taking a bite.

“Who is the Daddy’s Girls Jam company?” he asks as he chews. “I’d like to invest.”

Mabel giggles. “Me and Ginger and Daddy. That’s our team.”

“Sounds like a pretty solid team,” Wade says with a small smile.

Jo pats my shoulder then scoots back to the other side of the picnic table. “I thought so too. And you know, sometimes all a team needs to be the very best at something is a leader to steer them in the right direction,” she says, though she doesn’t look at me this time. She doesn’t need to. I understand every word.

I smile and weave myself a perfect bracelet as Mabel shows Wade how to make one for himself.

“I’ll be the leader,” Mabel says as she concentrates on her bracelet.

“Then you’ll be the best team there is,” Wade says, his eyes on me. I flash a grin at him from across the table.

Suddenly, a little sun, some homemade jam and a bracelet-making session has affirmed everything I already knew.

I’m not a teenager anymore, and I want this life with Cole and Mabel. And as scary as it is to have this conversation with Cole and risk changingusforever, I’m going to do it, whether Cole’s ready or not. Because I’ll be ready enough for both of us.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Cole

“Why is your tummy sore, baby? What’s bothering you?” I ask as I lie down beside Mabes and tuck her in. Cowey and her new stuffed dog from Ginger, Goldie, are between us.

I was only home long enough to have a quick shower and see my mom off before Mabel woke up and said she had a stomachache, which usually means something is bothering her.

Tired as I am, and desperate for a few hours to think over everything that happened tonight, she always comes first.

“I think Ginger will be lonely if she has to go to her old home,” she says, twisting her fingers in Cowey’s fur.

“Well, that’s not for a little while,” I say, trying to make it sound like it’s in the way-far-off future even though it’s just a few weeks away now. I don’t want her to leave. But the last thing I want to do is give her an ultimatum. I’d be asking her to commit to a life with me and Mabes, which is huge for someone who has their whole future—and possible future family—before them.

“She lived by herself before she came here for the summer,” I say to Mabel. “And I’m sure she’ll come visit.”

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