Highball Rush (Bootleg Springs #6) - Claire Kingsley Page 0,103

captivated by her beautiful face. The tip of her tongue darted into the notch in her lip—she did that when she was nervous—so I took her hand before turning to address the town.

“Callie came forward today because we need y’all’s help. Just so we’re clear, the judge is the bad guy. We got that?”

People spoke in low voices to their neighbors, but they nodded.

“We need to come together as a town to protect our girl. That means, for now, she ain’t Callie to anyone outside this room. She’s still Maya. Understood?”

More nods. They were with us.

“Sheriff Tucker is working on things from a law enforcement standpoint. There’s still evidence to gather to make a case against the judge.”

There were sudden calls for Bootleg Justice from several parts of the barn.

“I know. Believe me, I’d love nothing more than to get my hands on that sorry son of a bitch. But this goes beyond Bootleg. And it calls for the kind of justice that ends with him in prison, where he can’t hurt anyone again.”

Shouts of agreement filled the air and several people raised their fists.

“We have reason to believe a low-down, dirty scum who works for the judge is in town right now.”

This time there were boos and voices bordering on outrage.

“It ain’t yet clear why he’s here, and we need solid evidence to tie him to the judge. So no one take this into your own hands. This ain’t a situation for Bootleg Justice, either. But it’s important he doesn’t find out that she’s Callie.”

“We’ve got this, Gibs.”

“You can count on us.”

“Callie who?”

“Never even heard of her.”

I nodded, squeezing Callie’s hand again. “We’re asking a lot of y’all. And it means a lot that you’ll stand by us.”

My brothers rose from their chairs—Bowie, followed by Jonah and Jameson—to nod gratefully at the people around us. Scarlett looked teary when she stood.

This was us. My family. My people. And holy shit if it hadn’t taken Callie Kendall coming back from the dead to make me see it. Make me realize what I had.

“Are y’all gettin’ hitched?” a woman asked from somewhere in the middle. Might have been Clarabell.

“Callie, are you here to stay?”

“Are you gonna marry Gibson Bodine?”

“I can arrange the flowers.”

“We should have it at the park.”

“Do y’all still have the trellis from Bowie and Cassidy’s wedding?”

“What kinda cake do y’all need?”

Callie laughed, touching her fingers to her lips. And what the hell, I laughed too.

“Y’all are getting a bit ahead of yourselves,” I said into the mic. But I cast a quick wink at Callie. “Let’s just get through the current crisis.”

Sheriff Tucker and Nadine stepped up and took the mic. Callie and I went back to our seats while Harlan gave them a few more details—a description of Lee Williams so they knew who to look out for, and more reminders to stay out of it and let law enforcement do their job. Nadine gave everyone ideas for what to do if they spotted trouble.

Afterward, almost everyone present lined up to say hello to Callie. It was like the longest receiving line I’d ever seen. They gave her hugs, patted her hands, told her how much they’d missed her. There were exclamations of how pretty she’d grown, what a nice young woman she’d become. There was hardly a dry eye in the place as the surprise of the truth settled into acceptance and relief.

Callie Kendall was home.

33

MAYA

I couldn’t remember ever being so exhausted in my entire life. I sagged against Gibson while he unlocked the front door. My legs were heavy and my arms hung loose at my sides because I didn’t have the energy to lift them.

Telling the town the truth about me had been the right call. I felt it deep in my soul. The way they’d responded, rallying around us like that, made my heart so full I thought my chest might burst. And all their tearful greetings, hugs, cheek kisses, and enthusiastic suggestions for engagement and wedding ideas had made me feel like I belonged to them.

But really, I always had.

Cash was excited to see us, as usual. We let him inside, and gave him some love and a toy filled with peanut butter. He plopped on the floor, happy as a dog could be.

“Come here,” Gibson said. He stood near the short hallway and reached out to draw me closer. Tucked my hair behind one ear. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks. I feel good about what we did tonight.”

“Me too.” He leaned

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