giving me shit, that means we’re going to be okay.
And it means that he’s agreeing.
“To be clear, I don’t care whose name is on which acre or what tag is on each cow’s ear. I’ll expect you all to dinner at six thirty every night like usual, and polite manners require a phone call if you’re skipping out. Understood?” Mama Louise’s tone allows for zero disagreement, not that any of us would.
“Yes, ma’am,” we all say. We might be big, strong, rough country guys, but we know where our bread is buttered and who does the buttering, so we won’t ever piss Mama Louise off by not showing up at her dinner table.
With that decree, Mama Louise picks her fork back up and gets back to eating. Following her lead, we do the same.
Chapter 29
Willow
I scrub at the bar so hard the wax sealant is in jeopardy. But I can’t stop. I have to get everything spotless, spic and span, and cleaned to within an inch of its life. It’s a coping mechanism, I know it is, but that doesn’t change the urge to do it.
“Put that towel down, girl. The bar’s as clean as it's gonna get,” Unc snaps from his perch by Richard and Doc Jones. They’re drinking and talking as they watch the game on the television above the bar.
Sighing, I follow orders and drop the towel into the bin of dirties. Not able to truly stop, I pick up the whole bin and scoot my way to the back to start a quick wash load.
Behind the bar again, I fidget with my hands for all of two seconds before giving in and pulling out a bag of lemons to cut.
I feel a dark presence next to me and then a wrinkled hand covers the knife, forcing me to freeze or chop my own finger. It’s a harder decision than you’d think. “Willow, sit down and be still. You’re making me dizzy with all your scurrying around like a squirrel. Here, there, everywhere at once.” Unc wiggles the fingers of his free hand around, mimicking the routes I’ve been taking all day.
He’s being silly, but he’s right.
“Tell me what’s got you all aflutter.” He leans his butt against the counter beside me, crossing his arms and his ankles as if he’s got all the time in the world. But we don’t.
I sigh, studying the lemon in front of me as if I’ve never seen one before. Each string, seed, and drop of juice is suddenly immensely interesting. “You sure you can do this without me for a bit?” I hoarsely voice the concern that’s been keeping me up nights.
His bushy white brow lifts as he side-eyes me, showing his displeasure at even being asked such an insulting question. “Girl, I’ve been doing this alone longer than you’ve been alive. I’ll be fine for a few weeks. Don’tcha worry about me a bit.”
I’ve learned a thing or two during my time at his side, and I mimic him, lifting one brow but adding a strong dose of glare to my look. “One, reminding me how old you are isn’t helping matters. Two, it’s going to be a lot longer than a few weeks. More like three months, at least.” The reality of that hits me squarely in my gut and I shrink. “Maybe I’ll just stay. That’ll be better, anyway. Yeah, I’ll stay here and help.”
Those brows drop down low over his blue eyes now, turning his wrinkles into deep grooves. “You will do nothing of the sort. I’ll kick your hiney out before I let you do that. You’re getting on that bus and getting outta dodge, and that’s final.”
If only it were that easy.
I’m supposed to get on the tour bus with Bobby for his first tour in three days, but ever since we decided to do that, my belly will not stop churning. I’m not nervous about being with Bobby. I’m excited about that part, but leaving Unc terrifies me. What if something happens while I’m gone?
I can’t help myself. I throw my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly and likely getting lemon juice all over his shirt.
“Whoa—” He startles but then hugs me back just as tightly. Patting my back, he soothes my fears, whispering in my ear so that no one else hears, “I’m okay, Willow-girl. You heard the doc. I’m officially in remission, all better.”
I lean back from him, whispering too. “But what if it comes back and I’m who-knows-where, doing