The question hung in the air between us, unspoken. Then what?
I didn’t know the answer to that, and he didn’t seem to either. And maybe for now, that was where we needed to be. Here, in his house, not knowing what to do.
Because the truth was, now that I was here, I couldn’t seem to make myself leave.
10
GIBSON
I hated—hated—leaving Callie at my place alone. I’d given her Jameson’s number—I trusted him to keep his mouth shut—in case of emergency. Closed all the curtains, checked the doors half a dozen times to make sure they were locked, and left her a crowbar and a hammer near the door.
What was I so worried about? Hell if I knew. There was a lot she hadn’t said—hadn’t needed to say. I could figure it out. She’d stayed away because she was afraid of her father. She still was; I’d seen the fear in her eyes. Jayme had said Judge Kendall was dangerous. Sheriff had too. I reckoned they were right. And the urge to protect her from him was overwhelming.
I’d failed her thirteen years ago. I wasn’t going to fail her again.
I wasn’t sure if the Kendalls were still in town. They were usually here during the summer, but the season was winding down. And with the recent announcement that he was up for a federal judgeship, they might have gone back to their main home in Virginia. It wouldn’t be hard to find out. And I’d sleep better knowing they were gone. But until I could be sure, I wasn’t taking any chances.
Reluctantly, I pushed open the door to the Lookout, my guitar case in hand. Noise spilled out into the darkness. Music. Voices. Hung and Corbin were already here, setting up. The fact that we were supposed to play tonight was the only reason I’d come. Otherwise, I’d have shut off my phone—shut out the world—and spent the evening at home with Callie.
We seemed to have an unspoken understanding, Callie and me. I knew she was still trying to work out what to do. Whether she could come forward, and what that would mean for her. I also knew she had one foot out the door, ready to disappear again. This time for good. But for now—however long now lasted—she’d stay. I hadn’t told her she should, and she hadn’t asked if I minded. That would have felt too much like making a firm decision.
Maybe I didn’t understand women, but I understood this. She needed a little time to figure this out. The least I could do was give it to her.
Tonight, that meant showing up at the Lookout and acting like nothing was going on.
Nicolette nodded to me from behind the bar. She already had a water for me—mason jar, no ice, with a straw.
“Evenin’,” she said, pushing the water across the bar. Tonight she was wearing a shirt that said, I know what you did, sincerely, karma. “Cutting it close tonight.”
“I’m here, ain’t I?” I set my guitar case down.
“Yeah, you are.” She eyed me up and down. “Alone.”
“I’m always here alone. What does that have to do with anything?”
She poured a beer from the tap for one of her customers. “Just an observation.”
I didn’t respond. Just grabbed my water and took a sip.
No surprise that it was packed on a Friday. A few grizzled old-timers sat at the bar, nursing whiskeys and faded memories. A group of summertimers took up a couple of tables. Locals—including a handful of Bodines—took up the others.
Rhett Ginsler sat on a stool at one end of the bar, hunched over his drink, his trucker hat pulled down low. Misty Lynn was here, too, unfortunately. Judging by Rhett’s dejected posture and Misty Lynn’s seat on the opposite side of the bar, those two were still broken up.
I gave it a week, two tops, before they were back together. As far as I was concerned, they deserved each other. Misty Lynn kept leading him on, but he kept taking her back. Wasn’t my fault he was a dumbass and she was a shitty human being.
Misty Lynn glanced up at me and at least she had the decency to look guilty. I ignored her. I was still pissed she’d stolen my wallet—even more so that she’d turned it in—but I didn’t want to talk to her, even to tell her off. Bad enough I had to share this town with her.
I picked up my guitar case and took it to the little stage where Hung