Page 230 of That Rush

That answer once would have felt like an open door I had to watch. Now it’s one of the terms Paige trusted me enough to give.

Josie studies us, working through the information. “Are you still coming on Fridays?”

Paige’s arms tighten around her. “Every Friday.”

“For reading night?”

“Especially reading night.”

“And breakfast?”

“If your father improves his pancake technique.”

“My pancakes are fine.”

Josie shakes her head. “The last one looked like Texas.”

“That was intentional.”

“You said it was a horse.”

“Texas contains horses.”

Paige laughs, and Josie settles more comfortably against her.

“What if you have another disagreement?” she asks.

“Then we talk about it,” I say. “We keep adult problems between the adults, and we tell you anything you need to know.”

“You can ask us questions too,” Paige says. “Even if the answer is that we’re still figuring it out.”

Josie accepts that with a small nod. She doesn’t need promises about marriage or moving boxes. She needs to know what Friday looks like and which adults will show up.

“I have something to show you,” Paige says. “Your dad finished the old ranch office.”

“The one with all the dust?”

“It has significantly less dust now. It’s my private library.”

Josie’s mouth falls open. “You have a whole library?”

“I do.”

“Can I see it?”

“Yes, but you have to knock before you come inside.”

“Can I have my own shelf?”

The nearest bookcase has a low shelf Josie can reach. I once planned an entire run beneath the window for her before I understood that the room was never mine to give away.

I keep quiet.

Paige considers the request. “You may have one shelf for books you want to read with me.”

“Two.”

“One.”