by Meghan March
Actually, I’ve never been much of anywhere. To Memphis once with Hope so we could see Graceland. I’m knocking on the door to thirty years old, and I’ve never left the state of Tennessee. What would Boone say if he knew that? He’s probably been to almost every state in the union and tons of foreign countries. Places I can only dream about visiting if I stay my course and don’t seriously consider what could happen if I tried to make a go of it in the music industry.
“You’re awfully quiet,” he says.
I look across the cab of the truck and find him studying me. “Just taking in the scenery.”
“Nervous?”
To meet his entire family? Is he insane? Obviously, I’m nervous.
“Yep.”
“They’re good people. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Ma will love you. I already know that.”
“How?” I turn in my seat to face him.
Boone shrugs. “I just do.”
“Did she like Amber?” I don’t know why I ask the question, but it’s out and I can’t take it back.
Boone inhales and slowly releases a long breath. “No. She didn’t. They saw it way before I did.”
This time, I’m studying him as he fixes his eyes on the road in front of us. “Saw what?”
“That Amber didn’t want me for me, only for what being with me would do for her. She said all the things I wanted to hear, but I was too blind to see it was all bullshit.” He glances at me. “That’s why I know Ma will like you. You refuse to take a damn thing from me without being forced, and you don’t hesitate to tell me how it is, regardless of what I might think or say.”
I huff out a laugh. “You make me sound like an ungrateful bitch.”
“No, not at all. More like a proud, independent woman. And considering that’s what my ma is, you’ll get along just fine.”
A hint of relief works its way through my system. I’ve never done the meet the parents thing, but I have to believe his mom is the biggest hurdle. “Tell me about everyone else again.”
Boone drops one hand from the steering wheel and reaches across to thread his fingers through mine before he speaks.
“My dad’s a small-engine mechanic. He has his own shop and repairs mowers, lawn tractors, chain saws, generators, basically anything with a small engine. My brother was a mechanic in the service, and when he got out, he went into business with Dad. They’ve expanded into boats, ATVs, dirt bikes, and stuff like that too. It’s a nice business, and they both make a good living. Wendy, my brother’s wife, manages a dental office in town. She started out as a hygienist but found she liked being the office manager more than having her hands in people’s mouths. She and Grant have a little boy named Kyle. He’s five, and cool as shit.”
I can’t help but smile at the love that’s clear from Boone’s tone. His family sounds so completely normal.
“I’ve got a dirt bike for him for Christmas that’s going to piss Wendy off something fierce, but I know he’s going to love it. He already tears it up on the little four-wheeler I got him.”
“You bought your five-year-old nephew a dirt bike? Are you serious?”
He nods. “I started riding when I was six. Figured he could have an early start.”
“Six? You were riding a dirt bike at six?”
“Yeah. We didn’t have a lot of money, but Dad had a customer trade him two little dirt bikes to fix a few lawn tractors for his yard-care business. Dad got ’em running, and Ma didn’t object. It was my favorite thing to do growing up. My brother and I would head out to the trails and ride for hours.”
I could picture a younger Boone doing daredevil stunts on the back of a dirt bike. It’s a miracle he’s still alive.
“I’ve got a track out in the back forty at home. I’ll teach you when we get back.”
“Um, I’m going to take a hard pass.”
Boone winks at me. “We’ll start you riding the ATV by yourself and work up from there.”
I roll my eyes and ask another question. “Is your brother older or younger?”
“Grant’s two years older. He joined up when he was eighteen, and when they sent him off to boot camp, I went down to the recruiter’s office with a fake ID and tried to sign up too.”
“No way.”
“Sure did. They tossed my ass out and kept my fake.”
“Is that what you wanted to do? Join the service?”
“Dad’s a vet. Granddad served. Then when Grant did, it just seemed like I should continue the Thrasher family tradition.”
It’s not hard to picture Boone in a uniform or camo fatigues. Actually, I probably shouldn’t picture him that way because I guarantee he’d look even hotter than he already does.
“Did you try again when you turned eighteen, or were you already dead set on making it in Nashville?”
“This is where I have to say fate stepped in. When I went back on my eighteenth birthday with my real ID, the recruiter took one look at me and knew exactly who I was. He told me he respected the balls it took to try to get in early, but I wasn’t cut out for the Army if I wanted to take shortcuts like that. He sent me home.”
“For real?” I’m stunned. I figured they’d be thrilled to have him.
“Dead serious.”
I know there has to be more to the story, but Boone releases my hand to make a sharp right turn.
“We’re almost there. Another couple miles.”
Again, the apprehension I felt earlier is back. “What did your mom say when you told her you were coming home?”
Boone slows at a stop sign and looks over at me. “Didn’t tell her. Figured I’d surprise her, which is way more fun.”
“You didn’t tell her?” I ask, my voice going up an octave. I feel like Esteban, repeating part of everything he says.
“Nah. She’s been after me to come home, so she’s probably partly expecting it.”
My anxiety and apprehension kick into overdrive, and Boone must realize I’m silently freaking the hell out.
“Ripley, it’s gonna be fine. They’ll be excited to see me and thrilled to meet you.”
“Why would you assume that?”
Boone turns to me and says simply, “Because you make me happy.”
21
Boone
Driving into my hometown with Ripley in the front seat of my truck is a lot different than the first and only time I brought Amber to meet my folks. We were in an Escalade driven by her security, because she didn’t think it would look impressive enough if we drove ourselves.
That was Amber, always concerned about how things would look.
Because I wasn’t driving on that trip, I caught her every reaction as we drove into town. Amber wrinkled her nose at the Sleeping Giant motel, and made a face like she smelled something bad when she caught sight of the Boot Scoot Honky Tonk.
She asked, “Is this really it?” three times.
I didn’t need to see the town through her eyes to know that it wasn’t good enough for her, even though she finally stooped to calling it quaint.
I turn down my parents’ street, wondering how Ripley is going to feel when she realizes that we’re going to be sleeping in an apartment over their garage that they fixed up as a guest suite.
Amber had looked around like she was searching for the nearest Hilton. We made it one night before she swore something crawled on her, and then took off with security and the Escalade the next morning. I stayed for the rest of the weekend with my family, getting a ride back to Nashville from my folks, who I treated to a couple of nights in a swanky downtown hotel and tickets to the Grand Ole Opry for their trouble.
My parents are the type who would donate a kidney to one of their kids without batting an eye, so they tried to say no because it was just a simple ride. I wouldn’t let them turn it down because I was also trying to make up for the embarrassment Amber caused.
She’d picked at Ma’s cooking, asking if she had vegetarian options, even though I’d seen her eat meat before.
&nbs
p; It was a train wreck. When I confronted Amber about it a few days later, she gave me some story about being so nervous, and begged me to forgive her. She went on and on about how loving my family was and how sweet they’d been to her, and even though it burned, I let it slide.
I let way too many things slide with her. I was such an idiot. Thankfully, the good Lord was watching out for me, and saved me from making the biggest mistake of my life.
If it were anyone but Ripley, I might second-guess taking a woman home this soon to meet my parents. For some reason, I know she’s going to fit in just fine. Maybe my folks will realize my judgment has improved in a big way too, because I’ll be proud to introduce Ripley to them. She’s an amazing woman.
I’m also hoping that by seeing me with my family, Ripley will finally start to understand that she and I aren’t so different.
Am I using them as my secret weapon? Maybe. But to get Ripley to give me a real shot, I’ll do whatever it takes.
“Here we are.” I turn down the gravel drive with a white mailbox and a split-rail fence. Just beyond the giant birch tree sits my parents’ white farmhouse and barn-sized garage. Ma’s mums are in bloom on the porch, and an American flag flies from the pole above the black-and-white POW/MIA flag.
“It’s so perfect,” Ripley whispers, glancing over at me. “You really grew up here?”
I nod. “Sure did. My parents have lived here for over thirty years.”
“Wow.” Her tone carries a hint of wonder, reaffirming everything I expected.
The front door flies open and a mutt comes running out, barking his fool head off. I pull up a couple of feet and park behind my dad’s truck. It’s five thirty on Friday, which means he just got home from work and dinner will be on the table by six.
“They have a dog!”
The excitement in Ripley’s voice takes me by surprise. I had no idea she liked dogs.
“They’ve always had at least one. This is Buford. He’s one hundred percent Heinz 57.”
When Ripley blinks at me in confusion, I explain. “He’s a mutt. Adopted from the pound before they could put him down.”
“Can I pet him? I’ve always wanted a dog, but . . . it wasn’t in the cards.”
Damn, now I want to give her a whole damn litter of puppies just to see how she’d light up.
“Go on ahead. He’s plenty friendly. I’ll get your door.”
I climb out of the truck, give Buford a rubdown and a pat on the side, and come around to let Ripley out. Once I’ve got her door open, Ma calls from the front porch.
“It’s about time, young man! I’ll put a couple extra plates on for dinner.” Ma doesn’t sound surprised in the least to see me standing in the driveway. She’s got a sixth sense about things like this.
“Be right in, Ma!”
The screen smacks against the door frame as she steps back into the house, no doubt to return to the kitchen to make sure whatever she’s got cooking doesn’t burn.
When Ripley is out of the truck, she hunches over and Buford races full speed, knocking her on her ass before covering her face with sloppy licks. Instead of screeching like a lot of women might, Ripley laughs, sounding genuinely happy.
Looks like I’m gonna be housebreaking a puppy if that’s her reaction.
“He’s such a good boy!”
When Ripley looks up at me, her eyes shining and her arms around Buford’s neck, it hits me. Game over. I’m done. She’s it. The one.
Now I have to make her fall in love with me.
A few minutes later, gravel crunches in the driveway behind us, signaling another arrival. A truck door slams, stealing Buford’s attention away from Ripley. He lets out a long howl and races for the newcomer.
“Baby bro!” my brother calls out. “Ma just called. We’ve been waiting to see you in person so we could tell you the good news!”
Ma must have called them when she saw us turn down the damn driveway, not that I’m complaining.
Grant comes around the hood of his truck and helps Wendy down. Her small frame is all belly. She looks like she’s about to pop, but I’m pretty sure she’s only five months along or so.
I reach out a hand to Ripley and pull her to her feet. She wipes off the seat of her jeans and glances at my brother and his wife as though she’s embarrassed to be caught rolling around on the ground with the dog. She doesn’t know my family well, because that’s probably the quickest way to win them over.
“Who do we have here?” Grant asks, one hand at the small of Wendy’s back.
I wrap an arm around Ripley and haul her against my side. “This is Ripley Fischer, my girlfriend.” I hear her draw in a quick breath from beside me, but I don’t pause. “Rip, this is my brother, Grant, and his wife, Wendy.”
“Don’t forget me!” The back door to the truck slams and a small body races forward until it collides with my legs. “I had to finish my last level. Sorry, Uncle Boone, I only have five more minutes of game time left for today, and I didn’t want to give up until I won. But you’re way better than video games. Can we go ride my ATV?”
“Kyle, your uncle Boone was introducing us to his friend. Say hi to Ms. Ripley,” his mom says, reminding him of his manners.
Kyle, with his Thrasher blue eyes, stares up at Ripley. “You’re pretty. I’m gonna marry a girl as pretty as you someday.”
“You trying to steal my girl, Ky?”
His smile is quick and broad, and I drop down to wrap him in a hug. “Missed you, kid. You been good for your mama and daddy?”
Kyle glances back toward his parents before replying. “I kinda caught the yard on fire last week, and Mama yelled a lot.”
My gaze cuts to my brother. “What the hell happened?”
“You can’t say hell, Uncle Boone. You know Lala doesn’t like it when you cuss.” Lala is what Kyle calls Ma because she’s always singing while she’s cooking or gardening.
“Thanks for the reminder, buddy.” I ruffle his hair, kicking myself for not getting here more often. I’m missing so much of watching him grow up. “Now, are you gonna tell me about the yard?”
Wendy steps forward. “Later. That’ll keep.” She reaches out a hand to Ripley. “I’m so happy to meet you.”
Ripley shakes her hand. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
Grant is standing back, eyeing Ripley with a healthy dose of skepticism. “Your girlfriend? That’s pretty frickin’ quick after—”
Wendy steps back and jabs her elbow into Grant’s side. “Aren’t you going to tell your brother the big news?”
“What news?”
Before Grant can speak, Kyle blurts, “Mama’s having two babies!”
“Holy sh—shoot. Twins?” I look from my brother to Wendy and back again.
Grant’s skeptical look is replaced by a wide grin. “What can I say? It’s those Thrasher super swimmers.”
“And it explains why I’m as big as a house.”
“Oh, wow. That’s amazing. Congratulations,” Ripley says. “Do you know if they’re boys or girls or one of each yet?”
Wendy shakes her head. “No, we’re opting for a surprise this time. All we want is healthy.”
“Y’all gonna stand out in the drive all night? Your ma’s puttin’ dinner on the table in a few minutes.”
We all turn to see Dad on the front porch, beer in hand.
“We’re comin’, Papa!” Kyle takes off at a run, which is pretty much the only speed he moves at these days.
I follow behind him with Ripley beside me.
“You ready for this?” I ask her.
“I hope so.”
22
Ripley
It doesn’t take a genius to see that Boone’s brother is leery of me. And why shouldn’t he be? His kid brother, a superstar, got publicly cheated on and dumped, and then he shows up two weeks later with a new woman in tow?
And then Boone called me his girlfriend and my heart nearly stopped.
We walk up the steps of the white farmhou
se that looks like it belongs on an Americana postcard, and Boone’s dad stands in the doorway.
“I’m Randall Thrasher. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Ripley Fischer. I’m sorry we didn’t call ahead.” I take the hand he offers and shake it.
“No need to call ahead. This is my boy’s home. He’s welcome anytime, day or night, and so are you. Can I get you a beer?”
“Sure. That’d be great.”
Boone shoots me a smile, and I wonder if that was the right answer.
“Ma, we finally made it inside!”
“You think I don’t know that? My favorite grandson already found me and told me no one would miss my dinner while it was hot.”
Boone’s mom steps out of the kitchen. Now that I see her up close, I recognize those same brilliant blue eyes that Boone, Grant, and Kyle all have, although it appears hers have faded some with age. Her hair is a blond chin-length bob, as opposed to Boone’s dark hair, which must have come from his dad, although now Mr. Thrasher’s is now more salt and pepper.
Stepping inside their house is like walking into the life I wished I could have had as a kid. A cozy couch and love seat situated in front of a fireplace, which has a flat-screen TV mounted over it. I can picture stockings hanging from the mantel at Christmas, with a plate of milk and cookies for Santa nearby, waiting for him to come down the chimney.
The rug is worn, but the flowers depicted on it still hold their color. The tables look like antiques and match the grandfather clock on the other side of the fireplace. The living room opens into a dining room, and the big table is set with enough plates for the whole family—and me.
Mr. Thrasher disappears into the kitchen and returns with three beers for us, and a Sprite that he hands to Wendy with a kiss to her cheek. “You look beautiful, girl. Make sure my boy keeps you smiling like that.”