where the moisture was coming from. I thought I’d do this alone. I’d finish this alone. But I’d never been alone in the first place.
“You guys, I’m in love with Jonah,” I announced. “And I finished my dissertation finally last night. And I don’t want to find a home for Billy Ray. I want to keep him. Also, I was diagnosed with ankylosing spondylitis earlier this year. But it’s going to be okay because I just finished a triathlon, so I can pretty much do anything.”
My parents shared another one of those baffled looks. “I’m not really sure where we should start with that,” Dad admitted.
I pulled him down for a hug. “Everything is going to be great.”
“Shelby! Let’s get a picture!” Gus and Tameka, re-energized by sports drinks, bananas, and familial accolades, pushed their way into our little circle.
Introductions were made. Photos were taken. Pizza eaten. And I finally got my hands on a finisher’s medal. It hung around my neck with a significant weight.
And while all of that was going on, Jonah’s quiet gaze never left me.
Steady. Secure. Proud. Amused. All things I loved about him.
I grinned and winked at him. I’d proved to myself everything I’d set out to prove. And now the real fun could begin.
“Yes!” Tameka fist-pumped her phone in the air. “I beat my sister by a whole two minutes!”
“There she is!” The Breakfast Club, thankfully fully clothed now, pushed their way through the finish line crowd. More introductions were made, and I felt thoroughly surrounded by love.
“So, uh, what’s with the suit?” Gus asked Jonah. “You proposing?”
I laughed as my parents went back to looking dazed. “He’s in his brother’s wedding today, but he surprised me here,” I explained.
Mom’s eyes went misty.
“What time is it?” I demanded.
Dad read off the time from his watch.
“We need to get you to a wedding,” I exclaimed.
“What about your bike? The rest of your stuff?” Jonah asked.
“You go,” I insisted. “I’ve got plenty of help. Go.”
Still he paused. He had things to say. But I had time to hear them.
I rose on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his clean-shaven cheek. “We’ll talk later. I’m good. I’ll see you at the wedding.”
He stared down at me, a slow grin spreading across his face. “I’ll see you there.” He kissed me on the mouth for a few NC-17 seconds before pulling back.
“See you all later,” he said. Jonah blew me a kiss as he backed away.
“That boy is head over heels for you,” Granny Louisa sighed.
“That would be awfully convenient,” I said, watching the suited shoulders of Jonah Bodine disappear into the crowd.
“So, honey, um, back to this ankle-losing thing?” Mom said, trying to draw my attention back.
While the Breakfast Club hauled my gear back to Bootleg Springs, I sprawled out in the back seat of my mom’s sedan and answered all their questions about my diagnosis. Mom did an internet search on her phone while Dad drove, and I spent the last fifteen minutes of the drive talking her down.
“Never do an internet search on a diagnosis, Mom! You know these things.”
She was staring in horror at a worst-case scenario image search. Dad swerved trying to peer at the phone screen.
“You guys! This isn’t terminal, but smashing through a guardrail might be. Can we please focus on the fact that I have this under control, and I’ll let you know if there’s a reason to worry?”
“I can’t tell if you’re Pollyanna-ing us again,” Dad griped.
“Pollyanna-ing you?” I asked.
“Oh, I’m fine guys! Just a little mishap at work with a very small knife. It’s hardly a scratch,” Dad said in a falsetto.
“Come on! I didn’t want you to—”
“Worry,” my parents said together, rolling their eyes at each other.
“What? Is that so wrong?” I demanded. “Isn’t part of being a family trying to protect each other?”
“Part of being a family is trusting each other to handle the tough stuff,” Mom said, clearly not happy with me.
“So I’ve heard,” I said dryly. I pulled my shoes off and blanched at the smell. I was going to need six showers before showing up at the wedding.
“And if you want to have a real relationship with that handsome Jonah Bodine, you’re going to have to figure that out. Isn’t that right, James?”
“Do you think Scarlett would have a lead on any fixer-uppers in Bootleg?” Dad mused, having tuned out the meat of the conversation.
“What? Why?” Mom asked.
“If both our kids end up here, we should probably have a home base. We already