Page 34 of No Rules
His mom patted his hand. “Take some time to think about it, honey. But don’t wait too long, or life will pass you by. You’re too young for that.”
“Why didn’t you ever find someone else?” he asked. He’d never even wondered before, but now it hit him that his mom had spent all her life alone, raising her kids by herself.
“Oh, it wasn’t for lack of tryin’, honey, trust me on that. Not at first. I needed to take care of you two, and I worked at the diner. Wouldn’t have survived without Nate and Amy.”
Ryan and his sister had practically grown up in the diner where his mom had worked, sitting for hours in a corner watching TV or playing, waiting until their mom was done to take them home. Nate and Amy Winslow, the owners, had always tolerated their presence, which few people would’ve done. It had allowed Ryan’s mom to work full-time and take care of the two of them.
“But you never found someone later on?” Rachelle leaned with her head on her hands as she studied their mom.
“Maybe I was too picky. I dunno. But Lord knows the last thing I needed was some man who expected me to cook and clean for him and be his momma. I had two young ‘uns. I didn’t need a third.” His mom scoffed. “And some of the men I met? Jesus, take the wheel. They were dumber than a box of rocks in the Lone Star sun. I have no need for that and zero patience to boot.”
How could you not love that woman? “You did right by us, Momma. We owe you everything.”
She waved his praise away, then got up and grabbed something from the kitchen counter. “I gave you the foundation, but you built the rest. You both used the talents the good Lord gave ya, and for that, I’m proud and grateful. Speakin’ of the past, I found some old photos while cleaning the attic. I thought you might get a kick out of them.”
She handed Ryan a small stack of faded photographs, and he couldn’t repress a grin as he flipped through the images. There he was, decked out in cowboy boots and a hat far too big for his head, pretending to be the sheriff of their small town.
“Look at that little cowboy,” Rachelle teased, peering over his shoulder. “Didn’t you want to be a crime fighter even back then?”
“Guilty as charged. I wanted to be a Texas Ranger.”
“Yeah, you always tried to arrest me and my friends for making too much noise.”
“You girls were always ear-splittingly loud. There shoulda been a law against that.”
“True, but then we also made blankets forts in the living room and invited you to our sleepovers. Well, until a certain age anyway.”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “I’ve always been as gay as they come, sister dear. I never have been attracted to a girl, not even once. That includes your friend Tamara, who had, objectively speaking, a pair of superb boobs.”
“Jesus, yes. The poor thing had a D-cup by seventh grade. That got her a lot of unwanted attention.”
“Tell me about it. She asked me to her junior prom. Don’t you remember?”
Rachelle blinked, then snickered. “You’re right. Oh god, I’d forgotten about that. You weren’t even out yet, but she felt safe with you.”
Ryan smirked. “I was the class stud, let me tell ya. Every boy in my class was jealous of me. Little did they know.”
“Those were the days.” His mom smiled fondly at Ryan and his sister. “And such joy it brings me to have you both here today.”
More family and friends would come later to celebrate, but the first few hours were for them, and Ryan enjoyed spending time with his mom and sister far more than he’d expected. He’d pulled away from them too. Not consciously, but he had. He thought he’d kept everyone at bay but them, but he’d created a distance between himself and them as well, and he hadn’t been aware until now.
As the day wore on and other family and friends arrived, Ryan opened up more and more, sharing stories from his childhood and listening to others reminisce about their youthful antics. He was surprised at how easily he fell back into the rhythm of things, chatting about everything from sports to politics and even holding his own in a debate about the best barbecue joints in town.
He wrapped an arm around his mother’s shoulders as they laughed at Rachelle’s recounting of the time she convinced a young Ryan that if he swallowed watermelon seeds, a watermelon would grow inside him.
“Y’all are never going to let me live that one down, are you?” Ryan grumbled good-naturedly, his cheeks warming with embarrassment.
“Absolutely not.” His mom’s eyes twinkled with mirth. “It’s a mother’s prerogative to tease her children about their childhood follies.”
For the first time in what felt like ages, Ryan allowed himself to forget the weight of guilt and loss that had been bearing down on him. With every laugh and shared memory, the burden seemed to lighten a little more.
As the party wound down, Ryan stepped onto the back porch, needing a moment of solitude. The warm Texas night enveloped him like a familiar embrace, and he leaned against the railing, taking in the quiet rustle of leaves and the distant hum of cicadas.
“Enjoying the fresh air?” Rachelle called from the doorway.
“Something like that.”
She joined him at the railing, their shoulders touching as they stared into the darkness. “You know, you can’t keep running from yourself forever,” she said gently.