Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
She laughed. “Okay, fine.” She flipped another page. “I haven’t been to the Badlands, but we passed it. Does that count?”
“No, but is the Screaming Eagle in there?” He pretended to stretch and look. “Because you definitely earned that check mark.”
Ren grinned proudly, quickly flipping through the pages.
“Come on, let’s eat so we can get back on the road,” he said, pulling his eyes away from the full, smiling curve of her lower lip and slamming the emotional steel door shut for good this time. “You can go through it in the car and see if there’s anything close enough to visit.”
He didn’t look up but felt her watching him for a beat before turning down to her own sandwich. “Thanks, Fitz.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
REN
Ren was grateful for their detour early in the day—as well as the activity book Fitz got her—because the day’s drive to Kansas City was the longest so far, nearly ten hours on the road. Normally she was fine being in her own head about things, but not today. Today she was all tangled up about Fitz.
Gloria once said that some people are dogs, and other people are cats. At the time, Ren didn’t have a clue what her mother meant; both dogs and cats are cuddly, cute, and furry. But then one Christmas she and Gloria took a plate of cookies down the road to Widow Dawson’s, and after five minutes of Gloria trying to make conversation and Widow Dawson answering in as few words as she pleased, they left. On the drive back, Gloria had said with begrudging respect, “Now that woman? She’s a cat.”
She meant that Widow Dawson never went out of her way to make friends, that she did things on her terms, that she never felt pressed to fall in line with social niceties. In other words, she was not a pleaser.
But Ren was. And she understood it now: Ren was a dog, and Fitz was absolutely a cat.
He’d ask her one tiny question, and confidences would come pouring out of her. Ren knew other kids growing up but never spent condensed time in their presence, had never truly gotten to know anyone her age before. The thought of having someone in her life, someone who chose to know her, who cared what she was thinking, who sought her out because he wanted to, not because they happened to occupy the same space all day, every day, made her feel dizzy with longing. And after the past three and a half days together, Fitz was the first person she could truly call friend.
The need to know more about him—to know him—was an ever-expanding presence inside her. But getting to know who Fitz really was felt like two steps forward, one step back. He would warm up to her and then close off again in a snap, making her analyze everything she’d done that could have shut him down. She saw the way he never directly answered her questions, never volunteered anything. Getting information out of him was like bravely sticking a hand into a thorny blackberry bramble and coming out with a single, shriveled berry.
But why was he still holding her at arm’s length? Even a brick wall would be able to surmise that they were getting closer, and Ren knew in her bones that what she felt for Fitz was becoming more than gratitude and fondness. There was a new presence inside her, something warm and with its own erratic, animalistic heartbeat. She loved when he teased her, loved his low rumbling laugh. She loved the way he took care of her and pretended it was no big deal; she craved their brief moments of physical contact.
It meant that she studied him the way she’d studied her animals, trying to read his moods and thoughts through his actions. Ren collected evidence like a forensic psychologist, piecing together who this person really was.
For example, she found it odd that Fitz was so friendly the dean asked him personally to show Ren around campus that first day, yet with her Fitz did everything he could to shut down questions about himself, his family, his background. Miriam had acted like everyone knew Fitz, but to her he’d never said anything about his parents or lifestyle. In fact, if anything, he was frugal with his spending, even though his father was such a successful real estate developer that she’d read an old Time article about him a handful of years ago down at Jesse and Tammy’s store.
Books made Ren believe that men like Fitz loved to brag about their conquests, but despite Miriam warning her about his reputation, Fitz had only ever been a gentleman with her. And he’d never once mentioned having someone back in Spokane.
Also? For the entire trip Fitz had their route up on the GPS, but he never really seemed to look at it. Had he done this drive before? What was in Nashville? Why was he going there?