The smell of paint filled the air in the Bootleg Springs High School gym. Jonah and Jameson were each on a tall ladder, rolling on a coat of light blue in a band across the wall. Bowie, Devlin, and I were working on the dark blue at the bottom.
Painting the old high school gym. The things I did for my brother. At least we were just doing the stripes, not the entire walls.
Cash was at home. I’d spent the last few days building a fence around a good portion of the yard, right off the back porch. He had room to run, a bed on the porch to sleep on, food and water. The weather was nice, so he was a happy little guy. And we could let him run free without worrying about him taking off.
“I thought you said George was coming,” Jameson called down from his perch above my head. “It should be his tall ass up here.”
“I thought he was,” Bowie said. “I texted him, but he hasn’t answered.”
“He better show up,” Jameson said. “It ain’t like we can toss him in the lake again if he doesn’t.”
I chuckled a little at that. George was too big for us to throw in the lake, even if we all took a limb. The guy could hold his liquor, too. It had taken an impressive amount of moonshine to get him drunk. But that trebuchet toss had become the stuff of legend.
“He’ll show,” Jonah said.
My phone buzzed, so I wiped a smear of paint on my jeans and took it out of my pocket. I had a text from Callie. She’d sent me a picture of herself wearing a fluffy white bathrobe. She was at the spa with the girls while the rest of us helped Bowie paint the gym.
Ordinarily, I’d have grumbled about that. We were busting our asses to help Bowie out, and they got to get massages and manicures and shit?
But I loved seeing Callie having fun, even if I was stuck here with these shitheads.
She’d been skittish about coming into town for a few days, but I’d spread the word about that Lee Williams prick to my family, and they’d been keeping an eye out. No sightings of him, so we figured he’d left town. Probably just been here that day. No one else remembered seeing him.
I didn’t for a second think we could let our guard down. But she was with Scarlett today, so I wasn’t worried. My sister was a force to be reckoned with.
All things considered, I was in a decent mood. Sleep helped. I’d spent the last week sleeping in my own bed again. My couch wasn’t bad, but this was better, especially because Callie was in there with me. She snuggled up to me every night and I fell asleep to the feel of her breathing.
It was pretty fucking great.
Maya was still my girlfriend in public, and we acted every bit the couple. I’d even planted a kiss on her lips right in front of Myrt Crabapple and Old Jefferson Waverly outside the Brunch Club yesterday.
In private, when she was Callie, was where things were getting real. Instead of keeping my distance, I held her closer. Kissed her more. Slept cuddled in bed with her. Woke to her scent, and usually her long hair in my face.
That was pretty fucking great, too. Even her hair.
I dipped the roller in the paint and rolled it on the wall, leaving a wide streak of dark blue.
“How’s progress on the house?” Bowie asked, glancing at Devlin.
Even in an old Cock Spurs t-shirt and paint-splattered shorts, Devlin looked like a suit. He and my sister were such a mismatched couple. But he made her happy, and he treated her like gold. She loved him, so that was good enough for me. Dev was on my short list of people I actually liked.
“Walls are going up on the second floor,” Devlin said. “It’s starting to look like a house. How’s married life treating you?”
“Best thing ever,” Bowie said, rolling more paint on the wall.
Weird shit was happening. Bowie was married. Jameson was planning a wedding. The only reason Scarlett lacked a ring on her finger was her stubborn insistence on keeping her promise to Mom. She and Dev were building their dream home together. Even Jonah had given up the bachelor life for Shelby.
A few weeks ago, I’d have left them all to their funerals. Get hitched and tie myself to a