and Devlin were pretty cramped living there together, her little scrap of beach was great for a bonfire.
I parked among the cars and trucks already here. We got out and wandered down to the beach. Music played from someone’s stereo, there were two coolers full of beer, and a whole mess of people stood, sat, laughed, danced, and drank around the fire.
Jameson was dragging what was basically a tree trunk toward the already large bonfire. Bowie and Buck helped him hoist it onto the pile, sending a flurry of sparks into the sky.
I said the requisite hellos to my sister and Devlin. Scarlett squealed with excitement and made sure to address Maya by name—loudly. Leah Mae and Cassidy were more subtle, greeting her with friendly hugs.
June and George arrived with June’s pet pig, Katherine. George joined Bowie and Jameson while June found a spot off to the side and opened a book, using her headlamp to light the pages.
Callie and I sat on one of the old logs that served as a bench. I hesitated for a second, glancing around, then gently put my arm around her. It was what a boyfriend would do. I expected her to stiffen or shy away. But she didn’t. She nestled in closer, letting her arm drape over my leg, and rested her head against my chest.
The lavender smell of her hair was strangely relaxing, and her warm body felt good tucked up against mine. There was nothing awkward. Nothing forced. This didn’t feel like pretending. It felt like she really was my girl. And the craziest part was how much I liked that idea.
I was about as anti-relationship as a guy could get. Somehow my siblings had sailed into adulthood still willing to take a chance on love. Not me. Maybe it was because I was the oldest. I remembered too much of what my parents had been like. Sure, they’d had their moments. Dancing in the kitchen. Smiling together. Acting like they didn’t feel trapped by marriage and family.
But those moments weren’t what had stuck in my memory. When I looked back, I saw the fighting. The resentment. The regrets. I’d decided a long time ago that I wasn’t going to do that to myself. And I wasn’t going to drag someone else down with me, either.
But ever since Callie had shown up at my door and jumped into my arms, I’d been thinking things. Dangerous things. And with her leaning against me like this, soft and familiar, it felt like all those reasons I’d held onto didn’t matter nearly as much as I’d thought.
“Hey Gibs, how about a song?” Buck asked. He held an old acoustic guitar out toward me.
Callie sat up and I reluctantly dropped my arm to take the guitar. I settled it in my lap and strummed a chord. Out of tune. Took me a minute to tune it, but when I was done, it didn’t sound half bad.
I plucked the strings, letting a song come to me. “Mamas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys” felt right. Long title, but a damn good song. Someone turned off the music as I strummed the opening chords and sang the first line.
A few bars in, a voice joined mine. Callie’s. We’d sung this song together a hundred times. Of course, no one else knew that. No one else in Bootleg had really known she could sing.
She found the harmony easily, and I shifted so I could see her while I played. The firelight reflected off her glasses and made her skin glow. Her sultry voice mingled with my deeper tone. She sounded different now. I’d noticed it the other night. Teenage Callie’s voice had been soft and pure, like a bell. Maya’s voice was richer, sexier. It was mesmerizing.
I lost track of everything but the music. The heat of the fire, the people dancing, talking, laughing—it all went away. It was just me and Callie, alone in the woods again. Singing an old favorite.
The song ended and the party erupted in whoops and hollers. My eyes stayed locked with hers. She smiled at me and my heart nearly beat right out of my chest.
I was in big fucking trouble.
14
MAYA
Life in Bootleg Springs moved at a different pace. It was slower. More relaxed. People lingered on the street corners to catch up on the latest gossip. Stopped to help their neighbors bring in groceries. Brought people homemade muffins and jam in a basket, just because.