hundreds of people every week, it was telling when he could have a conversation with one person and know it was important.
He’d made good friends with West Caldwell. The guy was an ex-convict from Texas, wrongfully accused of a crime he didn’t commit, who had married the town police chief. There was just something about the guy, easy to get to know, easy to talk to, as well as not talk to. But, he had never once been tempted to kiss West. There were several reasons for that. But it was just one of the many ways that Jordan herself was unique.
Their connection had stuck. That conversation had stuck. And it had bloomed into a friendship. One that took place between the end of his shift and the beginning of hers. That was another thing about Jordan. She often wandered the streets of Gold Valley from 2:00 a.m. to 4:00 a.m., captive to her insomnia, which had become the foundation for their relationship. And he had just... Well, he’d forgone a lot of sleep and a lot of sex for the privilege of talking with her.
“There’s no point talking about it, and yet you’re here. In the place where we talk about it. All of it. So you might as well go.”
“I just couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t do it. I got to the day, and I couldn’t do it. And I owe them everything.”
He knew what she meant. She didn’t just mean Dylan. She meant his whole family. Jordan had been kicked out by her parents when she was sixteen, and it was her boyfriend’s family who had taken her in. He knew that her connection with them was complicated, and went far beyond a simple romantic entanglement with one person. She was enmeshed in the entire family. And she spoke about it in terms of affection and irritation in pretty equal turns. But one thing was certain—always certain—she loved his family. She loved him too, though less often doubted that she loved him the way that a woman should love a man. She carried a lot of affection and obligation for him.
He wasn’t actually an asshole. It was just that Laz didn’t think he was right for Jordan.
And you think you are?
For all his speeches on love, he’d never been in love himself.
He’d been married to this bar for more years than he could count. After moving to Gold Valley to care for his grandmother and work on her ranch, he’d set new goals for himself. And those goals had included buying a piece of the main street of the town that he had come to love so much.
So he’d done that. But along the way... Along the way he hadn’t done the whole marriage and family thing. It had never seemed all that attractive to him. His parents had been steeped in icy silence, the success of their professional lives not compensating for the solid wall of ice that existed in their personal lives. There had just been so much resentment. And if they’d hated being obligated to each other, they hadn’t been a whole lot more excited about Laz and his extracurricular activities either.
It was why Gold Valley had been an easy choice. It was why he left home at seventeen. Chosen to graduate from Gold Valley High rather than the high school in Portland he’d been going to. Because while his grandmother had been stern and firm, running the place with an iron fist, there had also been peace in her house. Long talks late into the night, her particular brand of soul food, and sweet tea, owed to her upbringing in Louisiana. She had been a hardworking woman, and she had run the men who worked the ranch, and her house with unfailing energy.
“I can’t believe that she’s gone.” He poured a shot of whiskey for himself, and then one for Jordan. He set both on the bar.
“I’m so sorry,” Jordan said, her hands on his. And he wished it could be more. “I wish I could have met her.”
“She has been pretty poorly ever since we met. Didn’t come down to town really anymore.” He knocked the shot back. But he wished that his grandmother had met Jordan too. He’d have liked to get her take on them.
“To your grandma.” She took the shot, then gasped. “Oh Lord. I’ve never done that before.”
“Well shit. Didn’t tell me that. I wouldn’t have thrown you in the deep end.”
“It’s okay,” she said, wheezing. “I’m