Page 127 of Wild Catch
I give him a deadpanned look. “Wow, rousing endorsement there.”
“Next question,” Starr continues, ignoring my jab. “Has she openly manifested her interest in you?”
“Yes, but?—”
“I’m not done.” He leans toward me. “Are you aware of how cool she is?”
“Cool?” I frown. “She’s more than cool. She’s the golden hour bathing you with warmth and light and?—”
“That’s good,” Rivera stretches the word. “You’re waxing poetic already.”
That makes me shut my mouth.
“Do you think she’s smart?” the cowboy continues grilling me.
I respond through gritted teeth. “She’s freaking brilliant.”
“So, isn’t she capable of making her own decisions?”
“Of course she is.” I drop my head to expel an exasperated sigh. My hair falls forward and I use my one clean hand to brush it back. “I just don’t want to hurt her.”
“Well then, just don’t.”
I stare. “Easy to say for anyone who doesn’t have a toxic waste of a family or an unstable mind.”
“Your mind isn’t unstable,” Machado chimes in, derailing my train of thought. “It just has different coping mechanisms, and they’re going to work better once you stop ignoring them.”
“How the hell do you know about this stuff?” I bark.
“Yeah. How did you even know how to walk him through the panic attack?” Rivera asks too.
Machado shrugs. “It’s from reading so many parenting books.”
“Are you parenting me right now?” I scrunch up my face.
“Anyway, I have one more question.” We refocus on the Texan. He’s done eating and leans back against the concrete as he stares at me. “Do you want Rose or not?”
I tighten my jaw and swallow hard. “With every fiber of my being.”
“Then stop being afraid of happiness and go for her.”
“I don’t know how,” I admit reluctantly, tired of having this dialogue with myself and at last exteriorizing it. “I don’t know how to show up for her or be good to her.”
Rivera interjects with “but do you want to?”
I give a jerky nod.
“How about you tell her all of this…” Machado glances from one of us to the other. “In a letter? Like I get that it’d be hard to say this for someone who seems more used to expressing himself in grunts and hand signals?—”
Rivera laughs. “You got him to a T.”
“But maybe it’s easier if you take your time to think it through and put it on paper,” Machado finishes.
“Damn, now that’s an idea.” Starr gives Machado the finger guns. “Women love a grand gesture.”
“We can help you.” Rivera pats his chest. “I’ve been known to write a romantic poem or two in my youth.”
“Your youth?” His best bud barks a laugh that echoes in the quiet of the night. “What are you now, a grandpa?”
