Forty-three ALL I COULD THINK ABOUT ON MONDAY MORNING WAS getting over to the garage to see Cowboy. For the first time, I could go in there and hug him the way I’d always wanted to. What seemed right would be right. I could kiss him and know he’d kiss me back. That would get me through a long day at school. I was excited, a little scared, and full to my brim. I didn’t have our solution yet. I didn’t know how to tell Bampas or how I was going to handle ending things with Brady. Big changes were coming. But all I could think of for the moment was that I was sure as heck going in there to tell Cowboy that I loved him. I had never said the words on Friday night beside the river. I believed that he knew; he’d said it himself. But I was going to make sure—this very morning. I jingled some quarters, meant for our usual pair of coffees, in the hollows of my hands as I stepped into the kitchen. “Twenty-six!” my father said loudly. He slapped his hand down on the morning paper, which lay open before him.
What do You think about The Things You Kiss Goodbye?
