The A-Word (29 page)

“You smell good,” I told him, hoping he’d register the message.

We danced some more. Kissed some more, too. Ryan was an excellent kisser.

The world was a crazy place, the A-word world even
crazier. But love—if that’s what this was with Ryan—was worth fighting for, worth laying your heart on the line. Even if things turned out upside down and wrong and backward.

Was I destined for more than what I could see around me? Was that what all of this had been about? The thought fluffed my brain, leaving trails of sparkly possibility. But right now, this—the dance, Ryan’s body pressed against me—was enough. I was not my father, chasing a shinier life. I was not Amber … not my brother. I was just me.

Here is what I decided: the bad stuff would just have to wait. From what Bo told me, it sounded like it would. At the very least, the Battle to Come was a long way off. The show could go on with or without me.

Least until Amber Velasco finally took me for that learner’s permit on Monday.

Then all bets were off.

I owe a huge debt of gratitude to the collaborative awesomeness and effortless hipsterness (the non-ironic kind) of the team at Soho Press. Endless thanks to my editor, Daniel Ehrenhaft, who is never afraid to send an editorial letter that begins, “Now don’t be nervous, but …” And then follow up with a
Spinal Tap
video to soften the blow. My craft is owed so very much to his thoughtful and always patient guidance. Also to Bronwen Hruska—publisher, author, curator of writers, mom in search of easy ways to create an Arctic wolf out of clay on short notice—and her merry band of nimble, brilliant folks including Meredith Barnes, publicist for the ages, and Juliet and Rachel and Rudy and Janine and the rest: I love making books with all of you.

On the other coast, I send sunny LA smiles to the best agent in the world, Jennifer Rofe, without whom I would be quite lost. Thank you, cowgirl!

Many, many thanks to Kim O’Brien, Bob Lamb, Dede Ducharme, and Suz Bazemore for Wednesday night critiques and cupcakes and other library contraband. And my beta partners: Varsha Bajaj, Christina Mandelski, and Crystal Allen for their wisdom and endless quest for the perfect breakfast.

Thanks to my own guardian A-words in the Texas book community: authors, readers, librarians, booksellers—including but by no means limited to bloggers Maria Cari Soto and Katie Bartow and the wonderful and career supportive folks at Houston’s Blue Willow Bookshop and Murder by the Book and Round Rock’s Book Spot. Y’all deserve a lifetime supply of kolaches and breakfast tacos.

Thanks mostly to my readers, including Hannah in England: I tell these stories for you! Thank you for embracing the quirky Houston world of Jenna, Casey, Amber, and of course, Bo.

To borrow a well-worn phrase, “Texas Forever!”