Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 69468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“I’m down.” Carson took the last bite of his burger. “And I’m paying.”
He signaled for the server to bring our check, and his enthusiasm fueled my own. Having a shiny new truck was more fun than I’d expected, not that I was planning on admitting that to Luna tomorrow. We made our way back to the truck, which still had that ultra-clean car dealership scent. It featured a touch screen and backup and hitch cams, novelties that added to my enjoyment.
“Truck needs a name,” Carson said as I headed out of Durango.
“Hmmm. Might help it feel more mine.” I mulled over the suggestion. “Big Red? Ronald?”
“Not a clown name.” Carson snorted. His full mouth pursed as he thought for a few minutes. “Cherry. Like the fruit.”
“That’s actually pretty perfect.” A tender place in my chest captured my next breath. I had to exhale before I could continue. “And Cherry was my mom’s name. She’d approve of the color and all the bells and whistles if not the make.”
“Good.” Carson nodded, the name apparently a done deal. “She drove a Ford?”
“Yep. One even older than dad’s work truck.” I smiled at the memory of the old blue Ford she’d inherited from my dad’s parents and the countless afternoons spent bouncing down some back road or another with her. “Mom could hitch a trailer, load feed, and cart a dozen chickens. She was pretty incredible. I miss her every day.”
“I’m sorry.” Carson managed to pack a great deal of sincerity into the simple words.
“When she got sick and had to go into Durango for dialysis on the regular, Dad bought her a used Ford sedan for better mileage.” My voice turned nostalgic at the memory of the two of them fretting over the purchase. My dad might have been cheap, but his care for my mom had outweighed his thrift. “She grumbled nonstop that she missed her truck.”
“I bet.” Carson leaned back in the seat. He was a true truck guy, all right. And both my parents would have liked him, a thought that made my chest pinch all over again. “Your folks got along?”
“Oh yeah.” I smiled at the chance to share. Carson likely had few, if any, memories of his own parents together. At least I had a few decades. “Theirs was a true love story. They met when he was on leave from basic training. She was an Oklahoma farm girl. Dad talked her into moving to Colorado when he processed out. He always said she was the perfect vet’s wife. Delivered more than a few foals with him.”
I conveniently left out how their compatible stoic natures had led to the late diagnosis of her kidney disease and how their mutual stubborn old-fashionedness could be maddening at times.
“My mom would approve.” Carson fiddled with the touch screen, finding all the stereo options.
“Yeah, Mom was friendly with your mom and your Aunt Georgia for sure. Everyone knew her and my dad. Curse and blessing of being the only vet around.”
“Small towns.” Carson used the same pragmatic tone I had.
“Truth.” I drummed my fingers against the steering wheel, which was slightly slippery from whatever cleaner the dealer had used. “The town rallied around my parents as the medical bills started to mount because of Mom’s kidney disease. Part of why I enlisted. Didn’t want to be one more bill.”
I didn’t usually share that detail with others, but Carson and I had been talking about enlisting earlier. And I trusted him on a level I didn’t yet entirely understand.
“I get that.” Carson’s ready agreement said that financial pressures on his single-parent household had likely been a part of his own decision. “No kidney transplant?”
“No. I wasn’t a good match, and neither were Mom’s siblings back in Oklahoma.” I swallowed hard, the memory of that bitter disappointment achingly fresh even twenty years later. “Then Mom got sicker and wasn’t a good candidate in any event.”
“That sucks.”
“Yep.” Time for a change in subject. I couldn’t dwell too long in the land of the past, or I might get lost there. “Think I’ll keep the truck name though. And I gotta admit this thing drives like a dream.”
“Decent shocks.” Carson allowed the topic change as I’d known he would. “Chevy rides good.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I forced a laugh at his teasing, pushing thoughts of my parents aside. “All the upgrades.”
“You like it.” Carson deployed the sort of sing-song voice kids on the playground used for crushes.
What I liked—far too much, actually—was him. Couldn’t say that, so I settled for the childish, “I don’t hate it.”
“Uh-huh.” Carson gave a knowing sniff before flipping on the radio. “Hundred new stations.”
“And somehow, you’re gonna find the country.” I let us drift along to the music until we were on state lands, bumping down a windy, gravel road. “Damn, it is a nice night.”