Page 34 of Rush Turner
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Behind us, the little ones yelled, “Are you two kissing again?!”
Rush didn’t look away from me. “Every damn chance I get!”
Joanie and Janie ran over and hugged us, crying. Then Aunt Marie came over crying.
Rush pulled me back into his arms. I laughed, tangled my fingers in his dusty hair, and kissed him back — goats, kids, puppy, and all.
Because this was our life now: loud, wild, imperfect.
And exactly right.
The End
