Page 51 of Sexting the Cowboy
He grins at her, and for a moment, he looks like the kid who used to chase her around the yard with a frog in his hand just to hear her scream. For a moment, I think maybe he’s fine.
But the moment passes like a shadow. His shoulders sink a fraction when he sits again. The smile wobbles, just a little. “You all waiting for me to slip up,” he says quietly. “You won’t say it, but I know.”
“Reno,” I start.
He cuts me off with a small shake of his head. “It’s fine. I get it. I’d probably watch me like a hawk too.”
“Look,” Cash says, “we’re not waiting for you to mess up. We’re just…watching you not mess up. It’s different.”
“Yeah?” Reno says, half laughing. “Feels the same from here.”
Levi sets his soda down, voice even. “You’re doing good tonight. That’s what matters. But we’re not putting pressure on you to be perfect from here on, you know? You’re human. If things slide one way or the other, we’re glad to have tonight.”
Reno stares at the table, then nods once. “Yeah.”
The silence stretches. The TV murmurs from the other side of the wall. Somewhere in the hall, an elevator dings. Too much truth in what Levi said, and now the room stinks with it.
I pick up my plate, just to move. “Dinner was great, son.”
He looks up. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I mean it. “Thanks for having us. Think I’m gonna be in a pasta coma soon.”
He exhales, some of the tension bleeding out. “You’re welcome. It was nice.”
Blaze stands, brushing crumbs from her jeans. “Next time, my place.”
“Next time,” he says, smiling faintly, and for a heartbeat I believe there will be one.
We gather boots and keys, a familiar clatter of family leaving without wanting to admit it’s over. Cash claps Reno on the shoulder on his way out. Blaze kisses his cheek. Levi says something low that makes him laugh again.
When it’s my turn, I linger. “You did good, Ren.”
He nods. “You too, old man.”
It’s the closest we’ve been in months. I let it stand.
In the hallway, Blaze hooks her arm through mine. “He really is trying.”
“I know.”
“You think he’ll make it stick?”
“I have to,” I say, and she doesn’t argue, because she does too.
The elevator doors close, sealing in the faint smell of garlic and redemption. Something sits heavy in my chest, and it’s not the carb-on-carb violence of the meal. I hate that tonight felt like Reno putting on a show. He used to thrive in the ring doing that, but tonight felt like a show just for us.
I don’t want his showmanship. I want my son back.
I walk Blaze to her truck and pat the windowsill before she’s about to pull off. But she puts her hand on mine. “Dad.”
“Yeah?”
“We can’t push him too hard on this.”
“I know that.”
“Do you? Because he seems to think you hate him for it.”
