The Guy on the Right (The Underdogs 1)

She scrutinizes me carefully for sincerity and finds it before she dips her chin, and her shoulders relax.

“It’s late. You should go on to bed.”

I nod. “You aren’t coming?”

“No. I’m restless, I’m going to make it work for me and make you some biscuits.”

I round the table and hug her to me. “You read my mind. Thank you. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I pull away and see the worry I’ve caused. “I’ll text next time. Promise.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

“You know, Momma, it wouldn’t kill you to get out there and have a little fun yourself.”

She nods, absently pulling some ingredients from the cabinets. We’re a lot alike in some ways and nothing alike in others. Truth is, I got along with Gran a lot better, and she served as sort of a buffer between us at times. Since she passed away in February, our relationship has been a bit strained.

Worn out, I make my way down the hall of our ranch home and click my tongue. Our ancient basset hound, Max, reluctantly follows, but not before giving me a grunt that translates to something like, ‘it’s way past our bedtime, hoochie.’

Max is the man of the house and the only one I answer to. Even if he is half blind with cataracts and I’m forced to lift his fifty-plus pound ass into my bed each night, he’s dependable.

The other men in our family have never lasted long.

My grandfather died in Vietnam when my mother was only a year old. And my dad, well, he moved on to greener pastures after I turned three. Years ago, College Station was half its size. It was never, by any means, a small town, but if you’ve lived here long enough, it can feel that way and become oddly predictable. Especially in Polk, and Jimmy Cox never wanted or planned to settle here. The first time Gran got sick; my mother decided she was right where she belonged. They parted amicably, but my mother held a grudge once he stopped coming around. Dear old Dad is now some high-ranking executive in Houston who sent us an annual sum up until the day I turned eighteen to remain his mistake. The checks were a consolation for being his false start.

My mother is determined not to have me make the same mistake. She doesn’t want me settling for promises that won’t be kept.

She’s always encouraged me to keep my guard up. She just isn’t a current fan of how much I’ve taken that advice to heart. I guess I am a bit of a ‘serial dater’. I haven’t slept with every guy I’ve had an inkling about, but she is right. I need to respect myself a little more and be practical about who I decide to spend my time with.

In the hall, I pause at a picture of the four of us—Gran, Mom, Max, and me—that we took on the porch a few years ago.

“Max, you were a handsome devil.”

His reply is a cold-nosed nudge to my ankle. “Okay, okay.”

Though the house is old, I love every nook and cranny. Every memory that makes me up is tucked in some corner of this ranch home. Gran had signed the title over to the both of us the first time she got sick. She died knowing her daughter and granddaughter will always have a place to call home. It was both her legacy and parting gift to us. Mom says she’ll sign it over to me once I figure out what life I want.

That’s a question I’ve never been able to fully answer with certainty.

Circling my bedroom, I glance at the packed suitcase in my closet collecting dust. It’s been packed since the day I started college. I know its contents. Seven pairs of underwear. Seven dresses with the tags still attached. Seven pairs of light socks. A swimsuit. Four sweaters, three pairs of jeans. I swore to myself once I collected my diploma, I would use it. I am only two semesters away, and I still have no idea where I am going, but I am going.

I’ve never once factored a guy into any of my plans. It could be why I’m hesitant to keep one longer than a few months. Life is hard enough making decisions for one.

Dressed in my pajamas, I brush my teeth for the second time thinking about my conversation with the guy who’d made me laugh, despite the shitstorm my night had turned into. I can’t help my foam-filled smile. He is holding out for something different himself, and it gives me hope. Not about a future with him, odds are good I’ll never see him again. But his quest is like my own. But first, I need to take a break, and a good hard look at myself. Scrutinizing my reflection, I decide to cut down on Doritos. Satan made that chip specifically to ruin my thighs.

“Max,” I line my brush with more paste as I spot him in the mirror behind me. He lifts his head and tilts it. “We’re going to do better. Do you hear me? We’re going to g

et more exercise, forget about the other hounds for a while and concentrate on our goals.” Max sighs and drops his head to rest on his paws. I can feel both his dread and judgment.

“As soon as I figure out what those goals are,” I whisper around my brush.

We’re natural survivors, my mother and me and we grew up with enough love from the female side not to feel cheated. I have no plans to follow in my father’s footsteps, personally or otherwise, and sit in a corner office ignoring life. I want more than that, I just haven’t put my finger on what yet. I figure my gypsy heart will let me know.

Theo

“What in the hell happened to you? Is that from last night?”