Page 78 of Small Town Boy

I snap to, realizing she’s talking to me. In fact, all three girls are looking at me, waiting on an answer.

“Pardon?”

“Dinner, tonight. With the Kellers?” Willa continues. I nod, confirming they heard me correctly.

“The whole clan?” Kenzie follows up.

“Yeah.”

“So it is serious. More than just the we’re getting to know each other you claimed the other night.”

“Errrr…ummm…”

I stumble, letting nothing but weird sounds jumble in my mouth. Just how much do I want to share here? Yes, I’m part of the group, but I’m outer circle, not inner circle. I think. I really like Willa, Sylvie, and Kenzie, but the drawbridge is still up.

Not for the first time, a battle rises in me. The angel on my shoulder tells me to let these women in. To make them inner circle. That they can be trusted and will embrace me as one of their own. The devil on the other side, though… His rebuttal reminds me that I once thought that about Marie too. And that as far as I know, these gals could be secretly funneling information to the elder generation who was just gossiping about me.

So I do nothing.

I sit here, frozen. A version of myself that I don’t recognize. Well done, Bronwyn.

“It’s…um…I mean…I…”

“You crank his tractor.”

Sylvie’s voice is calm, even, and sincere. Eyes and smile matching her tone, she huffs out a laugh that is pure joy.

“You guys have joked about that a couple of times, but that’s really all it is, right? A joke? He doesn’t really say that, does he?”

“Oh, yes. For years, every time we would ask Noel anything about his love life, that was his answer,” Kenzie explains. “And we pried, a lot. Over drinks, nights out at The Giddy Up, during truth or dare. Always the same answer.”

“When I meet a girl who cranks my tractor, I’ll let y’all know.” All three say it in unison, almost as if they’d rehearsed it.

It’s my turn to huff out a laugh. Because what other reaction is there to such a thing?

At the same time, it all makes sense.

“That’s the most Noel statement I’ve ever heard.”

“And the fact that you know that tells us that you understand him,” Sylvie replies.

Willa’s smile turns impish. The glint is in her eye that I’ve learned means she’s about to stir the pot, and my tummy flips in anticipation.

“Back to the original question then—it’s serious?”

“I mean, I’m not about to make mental notes for my wedding cake or anything,” I deflect, hoping they can’t detect the little white lie.

Kenzie shrugs understandingly, handing me a fork. I take it, thankful for the excuse to stall by digging in to what appears to be carrot cake. Yup, sure is. And holy shit, this cream cheese icing is sinful.

“You should know, we have a Vegas rule,” Kenzie says. “What happens here, stays here. You can trust us.”

Can I though?

That’s the million-dollar question. The whole reason I’m a mess of emotions.

Sighing, I pause, staring at each one of my new friends, taking them in. Reflecting back at me is each one of those emotions that are roiling inside me. Three sets of eyes that are asking me to open up. To trust them. To let them in.

For the first time since I’ve arrived, it occurs to me that maybe all of this would be easier if I did. That all the gossip and the awkwardness of being a tree-climbing fish would be a little more palatable if I opened up about it.