“Then you rolled into town,” Lindsey continues. “You showed up, and I heard from our neighbor Hattie who heard from Hunter—” She glances at Jake, and decides better than to rattle off the steps in the gossip mill “—Anyway, you said something stupid about how Little Haven has nothing to offer. And suddenly Molly was all in again. She was gonna save the shit out of that hotel. And what might have started to prove a point became somethin’ more.”
Something changes in Lindsey’s face at that. She takes a step forward and places her palms on the counter, spreading her fingers out.
“She liked fixing it up with you, I think,” she says. “Molly found some purpose in renovating the place and getting the party ready. She found… well, damn, you big dope, she found someone toshareit with. Having someone to share things with makes those renovations a bit easier, don’t it?”
She pauses, her brow furrowing tighter. Lindsey wants to say something more. There’s another part to her lecture.
But she doesn’t need to give it words. Because I’ve already come to her conclusion for myself.
“And building something up, making something your own, means a hell of a lot more when you’ve got someone to share it with,” I provide.
A flash of memory. Boys tossing basketballs to each other. Running suicides. Nailing the Cutthroat after a bit of patient coaching. It’s only been a few days, but I know all the boys’ names now. And I can picture Bates smiling at me from across the gym.
I look down at my lap, tucking my hands between my knees.
I liked getting the inn ready, too. I enjoyed helping Molly and talking to her while we worked. Maybe almost as much, I liked seeing the old place come alive again. Seeing how our hard work brought this small town relic back to its former glory.
It was different from my work with the Liberty. There, I knew I had the high-profile position that so many people coveted. I knew I was contributing to a multi-million-dollar franchise, helping to grow it the way I’d always dreamed…
But at the inn, I got to see the fruits of my labors much more directly. I got to fix those barn beams with my own two hands. I set up trees and raked leaves and shoveled snow. And when Molly stood in the middle of the barn and looked up at the rafters with her sweet smile, I got to see how her lips parted and her skin glowed with the brilliance of the Christmas lights.
“Will you two be driving over together?” I ask Lindsey and Jake. My sister’s mouth turns down in the corners; clearly, this wasn’t the response she was hoping to get from me after her big speech.
“Walkin’,” she corrects me, an edge to her voice that lets me know I’ve forgotten how things aresupposedto work in a small town. Even in a snowstorm, they’re committed to the lifestyle. “I’m not about havin’ to call somebody for a tow when the truck gets stuck in a bank.”
“Could I—well, would you mind if I borrowed the truck to get out of town for the night? I know a few retired players out in Atlanta and maybe I could get a drink. Something to take my mind off everything.”
Lindsey’s lips press together and her brow furrows. “Or you could grow a dick and—”
“Lindsey.”
She shoots alookat Jake. God bless that man for staying married to her. Redhead fury is no exaggeration.
“Sweet, sweet Gray.” She pats my cheek, the condescension oozing from every pore. “Your biscuit ain’t quite done in the middle, but as your family, we have to overlook that, don’t we?”
Jake sighs. “I’ve tried to train the mean out of your sister, really I have.”
“Good luck not getting stuck in a snow bank,” Lindsey says, tapping my cheek again. “Storm is supposed to get bad.”
***
There’s something about Christmas time that makes the whole world fall in love. Screw Cupid on Valentine’s Day: Saint Nick must be dropping aphrodisiacs into stockings here in Georgia, because nearly every damn booth in this place hosts a lunching couple cozied up, making moon-eyes at one another.
I curl both hands around my whiskey and throw it back. It burns going down, good but not quite enough.
“Smith!”
I turn at the voice, relief coursing through me.
Cox, Bennett, and Reed are all wearing hoodies as they approach me, but the disguises do little to mask who they are. I might be tall, but these dudes are gargantuan. Their thick shoulders part the crowded bar without them having to touch anyone, and Reed has to actually duck his head under a light fixture near the countertop. All the men from those dreamy couples are already inching away from their girlfriends to crane their necks in our direction. Bennett reaches out first to shake my hand and pulls me into a hug.
“It’s been a minute, man.”
“How are the Hawks?” I ask him.
He shrugs and takes a seat on the stool next to mine. Cox and Reed come up on our other side. “I’m getting paid and I’m not getting injured. Ain’t too bad.”
“And retirement?” I ask the other two.