Page 32 of More Than an Ex-Girlfriend

On my way out, I grab a donut, which makes me think about Lettie even more.

Because I was up early, I’ve accomplished a big chunk of my list before breakfast, which means I’ll have time to pick up Lettie when she’s ready.

I scratch a few other tasks off my list, then head into town. After driving around the parking lot, making sure Lettie’s mom isn’t laying low in a car somewhere, I pull up in back. Before I shut off the engine, Kent calls.

“Hey, Kent. I ran into town real quick, but I’ll be back out there soon.”

“I’m calling to ask a favor. A week from Friday, I want to take Poppy to dinner, but Ava and Mad Dog have plans. Any chance you could let Mason hang out with you for the evening? I’m trying to make sure I have all my bases covered.”

“No problem. He’s a fun kid. I like spending time with him. We’ll hang out in the game room and play Xbox.”

“Awesome. Thank you so much.” He ends the call, which is another reminder that I’m part of a family now. It’s nice.

I text Lettie that I’m in the back, then make sure the truck is unlocked.

She hurries out and climbs in. “Hi. Everything was quiet today. And I met your friend Anderson.”

“I heard. He’s a good guy.”

“That’s exactly what he said about you.” She’s smiling, which I’m happy to see.

I pull out of the parking lot. “Anywhere you need to go before we head home?”

“Nope. I have a ton of design work waiting for me.”

The last few days, we’ve fallen into a routine, and Lettie and I spend time together nearly every day. Sometimes it’s just a conversation over a cup of tea before she heads to bed. Other nights we crash on my couch and play Minecraft, which turns into an extended session of laughing and reminiscing.

I haven’t had any messages from Regretful-Raccoon, and I’m not complaining because I don’t feel like I’m hiding anything if we aren’t actively sending messages back and forth.

Friday is becoming our Minecraft night, and I need to fill her in on the plan for next week. “Next Friday—a week from tomorrow—I’ll be in the game room, watching my buddy’s kid. So I can’t hang out like normal.”

The best word I can think of to describe the look she gives me is adoring.

“No problem. In fact, that’s a good thing because I got a last-minute request for some designs, and the money is good.” She touches my arm. “Thanks for telling me.”

“How long have you been drawing and creating graphics?”

She shifts in her seat and turns to face me. “Went to school for it. Only an associate degree. But freelancing helps me pay the bills. And I like it.”

“All that doodling in your notebook paid off.”

Nodding, she smiles. “Yeah. It did. Looks like we both ended up doing what we love.”

We did. And somehow, we ended up back in each other’s lives. It would be so easy to slip on blinders and jump in headfirst. I’m just not sure I’ll survive the pain if I hit bottom again.

When the relationship ended, I didn’t have a support system. I was blindsided and had no one to vent to. My grandmother never understood. She only gave canned responses about how it was probably for the best and that I’d find the perfect someone someday. I learned quickly to keep my hurt bottled up in front of her. She loved me, but she was awful at giving helpful relationship advice.

But she’s the only reason I didn’t grow up in foster care after my parents died. And it wasn’t easy raising a rowdy boy, but she did her best. I loved my grandmother, and when she died, I truly felt alone in the world.

Since then, I’ve opened my eyes to the family around me here on the ranch.

I glance at Lettie, wishing I knew what went wrong. That’s the one thing holding me back from pulling her close and kissing her until the cows come home.

Loving Lettie is like those Wi-Fi networks in my phone. I only have to get close to one and the connection is there.

She slides out as soon as I stop in front of the house. “I think it’s so cool that you’re babysitting your friend’s kid. That’s really sweet.”

“I never call it babysitting in front of Mason. I think he’d be offended.” I imagine the look of indignation the kid would give me.

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