Nan clicks her tongue. “Aye, Little Brody is his father’s namesake.”
Shit, she can hear us. I gather that Nan was around when Chevelle attempted to chop suey her son as well. If this were a Black family, Momma and daughter-in-law would be out in the streets scrapping.
Chevelle nudges me softly with her elbow. “We’re going home today, Justice. You have a room in our home. You know that?”
“Thank you.” Thank you, Jesus. I was kind of banking on that.
“Ye have a room here too,” Nan adds, gesturing to Chevelle. “My daughter had a room here at age thirteen. I’d have to keep her and Leith from sneaking around too. But there’ll be nae sneaking. We’re all adults.”
Heat sears across my cheeks.
“Never mind, Nan,” Chevelle sighs, “you’ll get more grandbabies soon enough.”
“Och! Well, are ye pregnant?” Nan points a butter knife.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Chevelle wiggles her brows.
“This is how ye repay my love?” Nan gets up, kisses Chevelle’s temple, and heads over to the breakfast nook.
“Love you, Nan.” Chevelle sips apple juice and turns to me. “Also, can you kind of babysit Mia this afternoon for a short while? Leith and I have a few things to handle. Um, apparently, my parents didn’t—they—had some connections to a few people we need to deal with.”
The constriction in her voice is palpable. I wrap an arm around her. “You okay?”
“Yes.” At once, she’s the smiley woman who irked me while at Michie’s bar. “Listen, Justice, things will be getting back to normal. We’re about to find land for Mia’s Place. I’ll be busy perfecting my label, brewing and crafting beer. When the bar’s in tip-top shape, I’ll need someone to keep it that way.”
“Girl,” I say, “I’ll be mixing drinks, smiling, all that good stuff.”
“Yes,” Chevelle pokes me in the arm. “And managing.”
“Ma-managing?” A sudden gulp of air flows down my pipes. Camdyn’s placed a Denver omelet before me and a glass of orange juice. Speechless, I nod my thanks and sip down the drink. “Manage it? Bar manager?”
She hesitates. “Unless you’re loyal to Michie.”
At the sound of my boss’s name, Leith’s eyes narrow slightly. There’s something there: jealousy, distaste. And I had him pegged for the funny husband. They were this nice, sweet family . . . until the samurai sword.
It clicks that Michie gave her the sword she attempted a one-eighty-seven with.
I clear my throat and reply, “I’d be honored.”
“Yay! I figured your experience at various bars across the nation would come in handy.”
I nod. “This will be amazing. I can’t thank you—”
She dips a shoulder. “Just pay it forward.”
I savor the first taste of omelet while envisioning that thought—pay it forward. I may have worked at a thousand bars while paying Marcus, but what kept me going was human interaction, watching people pay it forward. My thoughts drift to Brody. Brody MacKenzie has never opened his heart long enough to understand that. Why did my mind wander to him?
My life’s about to change for the better. Although Nan MacKenzie has genuinely opened her home to me, I can’t fathom a reason to stay. Today, one chapter of my life will close, including my body’s mystifying reaction to the grouch.