The One Who Loves You (Tickled Pink #1)(87)

She takes my hand without a word, still keeping her other hand in her pocket, trusting me to help her navigate to the seat, and then she plops down like her legs couldn’t have held her another minute.

I shove off, hop in, and paddle out until it’s deep enough to drop my motor and head to my favorite fishing spot.

We’re not the first out here today. Won’t be the last.

Damn near the tensest, though.

Won’t make for good fishing.

Still gonna try.

So when we hit the middle of the lake, I kill the motor, drop the anchor, and dig out a pole. “You want to give it a go?”

She doesn’t look at my pole.

My fishing pole or my cock, for the record.

“Who would you be if you found out you weren’t yourself?” she asks.

I drop the pole. “That’s . . . a very specific question.”

“My mother left.”

I wince and rub my neck. “Tickled Pink Floyd is more harmless than—”

“She was only staying because my grandmother was blackmailing her with threatening to tell me that my father isn’t my father if she didn’t come make herself into a better person here.”

I open my mouth, then shut it again.

“All my life, I’ve wanted to follow in my great-grandfather’s footsteps. I wanted to run Remington Lightly because it was in my blood. Except it wasn’t. It’s not. So now I’m right back to where I was that night after we got here when you asked me who I was. Who I am. And do you know what? It’s fucking terrifying. I don’t know who I am.” She finally twists her head to look at me. “I don’t know who I am.”

Tell her, dumbass, my good shoulder angel says.

She’s a fling, my bad shoulder angel replies.

I ignore them both and reach into my cooler, coming up with two bottles of False Hope IPA. Don’t really care that it’s barely nine in the morning.

Definitely need a drink right now.

I pop the top on the first one and hand it to her. As she leans forward, a kitten sticks its head out of her pocket.

“Jesus.”

“Don’t start. Elmo wanted to come. I don’t know much, but I know he needs me, and that’s the thing I’m clinging to right now, okay?”

“You have an algebra test today.”

“Screw algebra. I don’t know who I am.” She drops her head between her knees. “Oh, fuck. Gigi won’t give the school that donation if I miss class.”

“Your grandmother is a damn menace.”

“She’s not actually my grandmother.”

I didn’t pack enough beer for this. “Phoebe—”

“Don’t you dare mansplain family to me. I know blood isn’t everything. But I—”

“You always thought you could blame biology for why you’re fucked up.”

She lifts her head and her sunglasses, and she stares at me like it’s inconceivable that I just explained to her exactly what she’s struggling with.

“Yes,” she gasps.

Elmo meows.

I scrub a hand over my face. “Who do you want to be?”

“The person who’s already answered that question and done all the work to make it happen.”

For the first time since I left the school last night, I smile.

That’s the most Phoebe thing she’s said all morning.

“Start easy,” I tell her. “Who do you want to be friends with?”

“That’s not the easy part, Teague.”

“You are who you surround yourself with.”

She frowns at the lake again. “But who would want to be friends with me?”

“I would.”

“Do not be nice to me.”

“Don’t let your grandmother’s expectations of relationships define what you’re willing to settle for when it comes to yourself. And for the record—I like difficult Phoebe.”

“But you’re a little off yourself.”

“And I like honest Phoebe, even when she’s wrong.”

“You’re a grown man who lives in a tree house, has no discernible job beyond occasionally selling questionable buildings to rich old ladies, spends his days fishing, isn’t fazed at all by being surrounded by women, including women who were born in male bodies, or by his ex-wife leaving him to marry a woman, knows his way around a woman’s clit, and your favorite game involves eating sawdust. You’re a little off, Teague.”

“You forgot the part where I love my ex-wife’s new wife’s parents. They’ve been in Florida for the winter but should be back soon.”

She lifts her kitten to her face. “Elmo, we’ve let a crazy man take us on a boat ride.”

“You’re here because I’m a grown man living in a tree house with weird complications in my life. They make your problems seem normal.”

She slouches back in the chair.

If we weren’t on a boat, and if she hadn’t fallen into this lake twice already, and if she weren’t carrying a kitten, I’d be crawling over to her, pulling her sunglasses off her face, and kissing the hell out of her.

I rub my neck. She’s not the only one facing hard things this morning, apparently. “Everyone’s a little lost sometimes. You might feel like your ‘lost’ is bigger, but people are people are people. Doesn’t matter if you own the earth, the moon, and the sky or if you don’t have two nickels to rub together. What matters is realizing that who you are is who you want to be and that you surround yourself with the people who help you get there. You’re—you’re in the best damn place you could be right now. Tickled Pink won’t judge. They’ll just be here while you figure it all out.”