Chapter 41

We have two days.Forty-eight hours until I'll leave Fiasco for good. Even when I hated it here—when too many people looked at me like a charity case, or I was the topic of some bullshit rumor, it was still home. I never had any dreams about growing old here, but I think I assumed I'd end up like Griz. Surviving on bourbon and lies. Living on the few constants that we had: time and the punishingly slow and quick way it moved forward. And the gut-wrenching reminders that nothing or no one lasted forever.

My assumptions turned out to be wrong. An awakening of sorts that made me recognize home as something completely different from what I had grown up believing. That it wasn't necessarily a place, but a person. My family would always be my family, and I'd miss them every day, but when I looked at Laney, I saw a life and a family I hadn't allowed myself to picture before. It was a helluva sight.

I rest my hand on the hot silver handle, knowing that this will be the last time I set foot in here. It'll be the last prime rib dinner with a friend whom I owe a long overdue conversation.

The bell above the door rings out, and the smell of grilled meat and the briny tang from old oak panels bathe the walls of Hooch's. There are plenty of restaurants in the county, but this place has always been the constant. I'm going to miss it. Miss them.

Marla shouts from behind the front counter bar, "You want the prime rib or the burger tonight, Grant?"

She throws her towel over her shoulder and squares off like I'm late to order, even though I just walked in. Her eyebrows raise at me because the only certainty about Marla is that she has no patience for much. Especially waiting.

"I'll have what he's having." I nod to Del at the far end of the counter.

He takes a sip of his coffee. "She's doing spoonbread with the prime rib tonight."

I smile at my friend. "Ambrosia?"

"Marla, tell me you made ambrosia," he shouts to her.

She yells from the kitchen, "Is a frog's asshole watertight?"

Jesus. I look around the restaurant and there's only a handful of us in here, but it's late on a Thursday night and most of the family dinner crowd are home putting their kids to bed. The air conditioning is cranking away after the heat from today.

The dead center of August in Kentucky can keep your skin slicked with sweat if you stay outside. Even without the sun out right now, it was balmy. Good for bourbon, rough for the rest of us.

"I'm going to guess that's a yes."

He glances at me. "Is the reason you're looking all sort of nervous because you want to tell me that you're in love with that girl?"

The muscles in my cheek twitch and the back of my neck heats up. There's a lot of history between us. A lot of love too, but we keep it high-level. It"s always been that way, even before Fiona. "That has something to do with it." I clear my throat.

"Any chance the clove-smoking viper is the other reason?" Bea and Del's history was one of the only relationships that hadn't been gossiped about here. But I know that after Bea left, Del never dated. He never offered details, and I never asked.

"It does," I say as Marla comes back to refill his coffee and pour a fresh one for me. "Thanks, Marla."

"Food'll be out in a bit," she says, rushing off to the booths with a pitcher of water.

"Been trying to tell you, without much luck, apparently, that I'm happy for you. I didn't know about you and Fi...until the end. If I could have picked anyone for her to have, it would have been you, Grant. But she's not here." He pauses for a moment, swallowing audibly. "I miss her every damn day, but she had a happy life. I'm happy you had some part of that."

I really didn't want to cry tonight, but I swear if he says one more thing, I'm going to lose it.

"You don't need it, but you always have my blessing. On whomever you choose."

Dammit. I rest my forearms on the counter and hang my head, looking down at the scuffed linoleum floor. "I hadn't planned on choosing anyone."

"Well, that's the funny thing about love, isn't it?" He looks toward the kitchen window, where Marla spoons out her ambrosia. "It tends to ignore your plans. And you can only be a dumbass for so long when someone makes you smile."

And if I had blinked, I would have missed it. The way the corner of his mouth tipped up on the side as he watched Marla. Well, I'll be damned.

"You shitting me right now?"

He takes a swig of his coffee, not meeting the way I'm staring at the side of his face. "It never dawned on you why I was here so often?"

I tilt my head. "Figured it was the food."

He smiles, chuckling. "Started that way."

I laugh out, "Alright." I nod, thinking about how my best friend just told me he's been with someone, and somehow not a single person knows.

Marla comes barreling through the kitchen's swinging door. "I've got medium rare for you," she says as she unloads the prime rib plate from her forearm. "And, I've got rare for you, Del." She slides the plates of spoonbread from her other forearm, and then out of nowhere, she slides out the two cups of lime green ambrosia, peppered with coconut and maraschino cherries. "I'll grab the aus jus, one second, boys."

"The spoonbread is good tonight," he says over a mouthful.

On my second bite, my ears perk up.

"We don't serve anything more than water here," Marla says, her voice slightly elevated. I saw off another piece of the meat and glanced toward the far end of the counter at the tourist. Tall and thin, with nothing in particular that stands out about him. Slicked-back black hair, silver taking over the sides. But it's the hair on the back of my neck that stands that has me nudging Del's leg. I see him look past me—a quick glance and nothing more.

"Looks like you serve prime rib," he says with a northern accent.

"Like I said, water is the only thing on the menu for ya," Marla bites back.

I give him another glance, taking in the bold and gold ring sitting on his pinky finger. He grabs a toothpick from the holder at the register, then lets out a low laugh, like he's not enjoying the attitude. "Mind telling me if you happened to see my sister passing through?"

Aside from the news playing on the television, everyone else here is quiet and listening to this conversation.

Marla gives him one of her best Are you fucking kidding me? stares. "If she looks like you, then it's a no. Haven't had anybody new around here."

"Looks more like our mother. Blonde little thing. Answers to the name Laney or Eleanor."

I keep my breathing even and shovel another piece of the prime rib into my mouth, but I feel sick doing it. The only thing I can think about is that I left my phone in the car. Wiping my mouth with my napkin, I say to Del, "Gotta take a leak. See if she'll wrap this for me."

I don't look at Marla. I only walk past the two of them and toward the bathroom in the back. When I turn the corner, I hear Marla answer, "Like I said, haven't had anyone new around here." I don't catch what else is said as I move as fast as I can through the back exit and around to where my truck is parked.

I throw it in drive and call Laney, but she doesn't answer. When I try her again, it goes to voicemail after a few rings. "Baby, listen to me. Take Julep and head up to the main house. You stay there until I come to get you."

With my heart in my throat, I send a text to Bea.

GRANT

911. He's here.

BEA

Calling it in. Take her and get her out of there. I don't care where.

When I call Del, it picks up before it even rings. "He left a couple of minutes after you."

"Call it in." I hang up on him and floor it. "Fuck!" I shout, hitting the steering wheel.

My pulse hammers and adrenaline notches up, making me floor it up the private road and throw it in park. The truck is barely stopped when I get out and go running inside.

We didn't move fast enough.

As I throw open the front door, Julep wags her tail, waiting for me. If she was waiting, that means Laney's not here. "Baby, you here?" She must still be at the rickhouse with Ace.

"Jules, where's Laney?"

She barks at me. She knows who Laney is, and if anything is going to protect her outside of me, it's Julep.

"Go find her, girl." I give her a whistle. And a command she hasn't heard from me in a long time. "Jules, go! Protect."

She runs like the devil out the back dog door, so fast, like she knows exactly where she's headed.

I dial Laney's phone again, but that's when I hear it buzzing on the kitchen counter. "Fuck."

I rush to the door and shut it behind me. There are only a few places she would be, so I'll start at the rickhouse and then head to Ace's. But my steps falter as the stranger from Hooch's circles the front of his old Chevy pickup just as I step off my porch.

"Evening, sir."

"You're trespassing. This is private property. No soliciting." My firearm is in my truck and a hunting rifle is in my workshop, but not a single weapon is at my disposal right now.

He holds up his hands. "I'm just looking for something I misplaced. Thought you might be able to help me find it, Mr. Foxx."

"Like I said?—"

"And I'm not sure I'm making myself very clear." He reaches for the back of his waist and pulls a Glock, pointing and aiming like he's familiar with exactly how to use it. "I have a very particular request. And I believe you know exactly what I'm talking about. You and I seem to have similar taste."

It makes me snap forward without thinking. In a breath, my right thigh is hit with excruciating pain. But that doesn't stop me from moving toward him. I'm not going down without a fight here. I rush for him and nail him in the jaw unexpectedly with a right hook. But the movement has me off balance. The gun rings out again, and this time, I can feel the bullet just graze my side. It hurts like a motherfucker, enough to take me down. I hit the ground with a thud as pain radiates up my thigh. But it's the back of my leg that burns more. The exit wound.

He hovers over me as my side bleeds and my thigh pulsates. I can hear Julep bark in the distance. Turning his head toward the sound, he smiles as he looks down at me. He digs the barrel of the gun into the wound on my thigh, and I yell so loud that my ears ring. I swallow the dryness and blink, trying to get it together. Fuck, do not pass out. I need to move.

"I'm going to ask you one more time. Where?"

"Go fuck yourself," I spit at him, but it's weak as my vision starts blurring.

He wipes the barrel of the gun, soaked in my blood now, along the shoulder of my shirt, but I can't even feel it. I'm fighting to stay conscious.

"I've done plenty of that," he says eerily. "Now I'd very much to play with my pretty little thief."

But I can't move to warn her. Fight back to save her. Or cause any type of damage to this piece of shit to keep him from her. I know Julep got to her in time. They'll take care of each other. I know it.

"You've been very unhelpful."

And then everything goes black.