Mrs. Thrasher squeezes my hand again. "It's okay, Ripley. You'll figure it out soon enough for yourself. But I'll tell you there's not a single soul in that arena tonight who has any doubt about how much you care for my son. You didn't have to say a word because everyone saw it in your actions."
Care. Okay, I can handle that. "Of course I care about him. He's a good man. Maybe the best one I've ever known."
Her grip on my hand tightens. "And the fact that you only see the man and not the star tells me that you're as different from the last one as you could possibly be."
It feels wrong to bring thoughts of Amber into this waiting room, but I can't say I'm not curious when Boone's mom tells me I'm different.
"What do you mean?"
"That girl wouldn't have lifted a finger tonight. She might've wrung her hands and worried about how this would affect her, but there's no way in hell she would've climbed a fence in her stilettos and run through the dirt to get to his side, let alone ripped her shirt off and used it to staunch the bleeding. I might be an old lady from the country, but I got a knack for reading people. You were closed up tighter than a drum when you first walked into my house. Not letting any of us see the real Ripley or how you felt about my boy. I decided to give you the benefit of the doubt because Boone told me plenty that gave me hope. When I met you, I wasn't totally sure, though." She pauses meaningfully. "But I'm sure now. He finally picked a woman worthy of him, and I don't say that lightly."
The doors to the ER open and close as Grant paces in front of them, talking on the phone.
"I see your true colors, Ripley Fischer. You may not realize you're in love with Boone yet, but I see it. Just as clearly as I see that he's in love with you."
Grant hangs up and crosses toward us in time to catch the tail end of what his mom says. My stomach knots, wondering what he's going to say.
He tucks the phone away in his pocket, his gaze moving from me to his mom and back.
"She's right, you know. I thought you were gonna be like Amber, fake and clinging to your lottery ticket, but you're a different breed. I mean that in the best way possible."
Mr. Thrasher returns with four cups of coffee in a cardboard carrier. "Kid in the cafeteria says that the news crews are already showing up. Don't know who tipped them off, but they're here. You see 'em out there, Grant?"
Grant nods. "Yeah, a couple of guys."
Mr. Thrasher hands out the coffee. "Anything else I miss?"
We all know he's talking about the doctors and Boone, so my jaw drops when Grant answers him. "Ma and I are about to lay bets on how long it takes Ripley to become an official part of the family."
Mr. Thrasher offers a giant cup of coffee to me. "Not long, if that boy's as smart as I think he is."
29
Boone
My head feels like it's been trampled by a herd of cows instead of just one pissed-off bull, but once the doctor staples the gash shut and they run me through a bunch of tests, they decide I'm not gonna kick the bucket anytime soon.
"We'd like you to stay overnight for observation as a precaution."
I look at the doctor and ask him point blank, "If I wasn't me, but instead was some poor schmuck with no insurance, would you have me staying overnight?"
"Well, Mr. Thrasher, this is a different situation-"
"I'm taking that as a no."
"Boy, if they want to keep you overnight, you stay overnight." Ma's voice comes from the private room's door as it creaks open.
"Ma, I'm fine. I just need someone to wake me every couple hours to make sure the concussion doesn't kick my ass."
"Sir, it would be best if you-"
"I took a hoof to the skull, not a bullet. I'll be fine, Doc. Get my discharge rolling. I'll sign out against medical advice if I have to. Doesn't matter to me." My gaze slides past Ma to clamp on Ripley. "I want to get out of here before the vultures descend."
"Too late. They're already here," Ma says.
I shake my head but realize quickly that's a mistake when it pounds harder. "Of course they are. All the more reason to get the hell out."
"I'll take care of those papers for you, Mr. Thrasher."
"Thanks, Doc."
Ripley doesn't speak until the door closes behind the doctor, leaving her and Ma inside.
"Are you crazy? If they want you to stay, you should stay." Ripley crosses her arms over her chest, and I give her a sidelong look.
"This coming from the woman who didn't want to step foot in the hospital, even though I thought your ankle might be broken? You're not the only stubborn one here."
"No, but she might be the bravest. You should've seen her throw herself over that fence. I wonder if anyone recorded it," Grant says as he walks in.