Loved By Levi

Twenty-Nine

Mylee

I had been a crier for as long as I could remember. My whole life, probably. Most people cry as babies; it's not like you can really help that. Some of them grow out of it after a few months while some just transition into the toddler stage of tantrums. I never really did either one. Instead, I had just learned when it was okay to cry and when it wasn't, thanks to my dad. 

Just because I had learned when it wasn't okay to cry didn't mean the tears didn't come, though. The burning behind my eyes would start whether I wanted it to or not, but I knew when to put on my big girl boots and blink them away. They would come when I was sad, or angry, or happy. Sometimes I would tear up just because I didn't quite know what to feel. It was a pretty terrible curse, one that I had thankfully learned how to control. 

It came as a huge surprise when I didn't feel the familiar knot rise up in my throat when my dad asked me to narrate the drama that inspired the suspension of the entire girl's rodeo team. Instead I just shook my head, feeling what could almost be described a sense of peace settle over me. 

Unfortunately, he didn't take my explanation of 'it's a long story' very well and I ended up spilling the short version of it all on our way out to the parking lot. By the time we were both leaning up against his dusty pickup, I was preparing for the waterworks to start, but for whatever reason, the tears didn't come. 

Dad lifted the dirty hat off his head and ran a hand through his hair, staring at the dent I'd accidentally put in the box of his pickup with a tractor when I was fifteen. For as worked up as he'd sounded in the coffee shop, he sure didn't have a lot to say. "Mylee Jo?"

"Yeah?" 

"Are you happy?"

I took a second to think about that one. No matter how unnerving working up the nerve to tattle on Camille and the other girls to our coaches was, the aftermath had made me relatively happy. Hearing my dad say he was proud of me had definitely made me happy. Eating dinner and drinking beer with Levi had made me blush and put butterflies in my stomach, but yes, it had made me happy. 

"Yeah, dad, I think I am." 

With the back of his hand, he pushed the hat back down on his head and straightened up, leaving an imprint of his wrinkled flannel in the dust on the chipped paint. He shoot me a crooked grin and clapped me on the back with one huge, calloused hand. "Baby, that's all that matters. If you ask me, as long as you're not doin' anything illegal and you're trying to do right by the Lord, you should just keep that up. Your mama would want to see you happy, too."

Even at the mention of my late mother, the tears didn't come. I guess that was bound to happen when I could barely remember her, but still. Not crying at the thought of her was unusual for me. 

"You look just like her, y'know."

"Except she didn't have red hair," I retorted with a smile. The one thing I remembered well about my mama was the long, brown hair that matched her eyes. 

"Nope, you got that from me," he grinned, elbowing me in the ribs. "Sorry 'bout that, sis." 

I just laughed, drinking in the rare moment of genuine conversation with my dad on campus. Usually all of our decent talks were over his kitchen table or out on the ranch. 

I felt my face go serious after the giggles died down. "What do I do now? I mean, I quit the thing that took up most of my time and I can't afford the rent at our place by myself. Levi's been a good help with it but I know you don't want us living together." 

He leaned against the pickup again, this time staring at one of the many brick buildings in the distance. "What do you want to do?" 

That was just one of many questions I didn't have an answer for. The list of things I knew for sure I didn't want to do was longer than any other list I ever made, which was honestly kind of pathetic. "I don't know, dad."