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When I made the decision this morning to pack up my apartment, break up with my boyfriend using a Post-it note on the fridge, and leave the barrel racing circuit, I drove 300 miles straight to her house in our small hometown. I hadn’t even unpacked my truck yet—it was sitting in Teddy’s driveway.
“You went from Meadowlark’s sweetheart to Meadowlark’s mystery. People will be happy to see you.”
Was this guy for real? He was waging psychological warfare with that stupid song because a boy from high school put a hand on my waist?
You’ve always been my business, and you’ll always be my business.”
Be cool, Brooks. You didn’t do anything. You just eye-fucked his sister. That’s fine.
“I bet Teddy had something to do with it.” “You can’t blame everything on Teddy.” “I can, I have, and I will.”
“You didn’t ask me why I came home.” “I don’t care why you’re here, only that you are.”
“My first kiss was Claudia Wilson.” That name—well, the last name—rang a bell in my head immediately. “Didn’t you sleep with her mom?” I blurted out. “You keeping tabs on me, Ryder?” he said with a smirk.
“And for the record, the rumors about my sexual exploits involving people’s moms—and my sexual exploits in general—are exaggerated.”
“Do you have tension-filled almost-kisses with all of your friends?” Tension-filled? Is that how Emmy described it to her?
I had a bad feeling, somehow, Teddy knew exactly how I felt about her best friend.
“Everything ends, Emmy. Whether you choose to keep racing or not, I do want you to know that I would love to see you ride one last time in the town that built us.”
“All great places,” I said. “Except for The Devil’s Boot. I’m a little iffy on that one.” Brooks flashed me a pointed look.
“So was the phone call from your brother before or after you told Luke Brooks to ‘fuck you in his truck?’ ” Teddy asked on the phone.
“I appreciate that,” Hank said. “I don’t need to know about any dalliances having to do with Emmy and Luke Brooks.”
“This is the real world, Brooks, not a fucking romance novel. I don’t need you to rescue me from a creep in a bar. I can handle myself.” Emmy stared me down. Her eyes were burning—just the way I liked them.
Just because you got dusted doesn’t mean you’re done.”
“Walk away before your daughter gets down here and sees you acting like a raging lunatic who just punched her uncle in the face.”
“I do. Emmy came home broken, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who helped her put herself back together.
I always joke that Luke is Tim Riggins if he grew up, washed his hair, and got a savings account.
