Page 60 of The Tomboy and the Captain

“Yeah?” I ask as she lifts her head.

She nods.

“I knew it from the first mention of your important Sunday dinner date.” She smiles, and I let it soothe the old aches I’ve been carrying around. That Sunday dinner, the one that we postponed because she was in the hospital. Laney didn’t ask any pointed questions that night, but she knew something was wrong. She knew, and she cared.

“Hey, when my family’s gone . . . can we . . . talk?”

Laney sits back up and slips her seatbelt back on. Her eyes widen as she says, “Oh.”

“Nothing bad. Just, some stuff I’ve been thinking about, and you and I talk, but we don’t get totalktalk.” I lick my bottom lip then suck it in as I give her a sideways glance.

She tucks her hands under her thighs and her knees bob for a few seconds.

“Yeah, we can talk,” she finally says.

That tightness in my chest? I’m pretty sure I just gave it to her too.

We luck into a live music night at Baker Joe’s, which eases the tension between Laney and me throughout dinner. I sit with my mom while Laney and my brothers finish a diehard battle of horseshoes, which she is winning.

“She’s really something,” my mom says, pulling my attention away from Laney but only briefly.

“Yeah, she is,” I sigh out.

“Uh oh,” my mom adds.

My brow drops as I turn my gaze back to her.

“Uh oh, what?” I grill.

“I know that look. You’re in love.” She picks up one of her French fries and dips it into the ranch dressing she insists on eating then pops the potato into her mouth. My mom has the ability to chew with the smuggest expression, a skill she’s showing off right now.

I roll my head, then my shoulders as I look the other way. I squint into the sunset and let those worlds settle deep inside. They feel right. And I know I asked Laney to talk, but also, I thought maybe I would ease into it with her.

“You should tell her, Cutter. You never know unless you throw caution to the wind and give big stuff a shot.”

I laugh and my mom hugs me, turning my attention back to her side.

“She’s a lot like them, you know,” I say, gesturing to my brothers who are currently strategizing a way to get an impossible amount of points at a game that basically boils down to throwing heavy metal at a large nail.

“That’s why you like her so much.”

I swallow at her words then nod.

It is.

It is.

19/

laney

When my momcalled back last night I was still at Baker Joe’s and having too much fun with Cutter’s brothers and his mom to want to dive into the work my mom and I have in front of us. But since she called back again this morning, I don’t feel right putting her off again for his family, though I very much would rather head to Cutter’s game early with them.

“I can stay back with you,” Flynn says, but his brother Todd yanks the sleeve of his T-shirt to pull him out the door.

“He’s like a pet you’ll never get rid of. Make your phone call and we’ll save you a seat,” Todd says.

“Thanks.” I hold up the shirt they made for me to wear so I could match everyone and promise to put it on. It says Cutter’s Fan Club, and as much as my feelings about him have changed—dramatically—I still don’t think I can put that shirt on in public. Maybe under something.

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