Chapter 1

Eve: 4 Years Later

“Wow, Olive.” I can hear the choked humor in his voice from several feet away, but my sweet, smiling bestie remains oblivious as always. “This is great. Really.”

Oli grins, bobbing her head in agreement. Her blue eyes sparkle with excitement and mischief as she claps excitedly. Today her hair is pink, yesterday it was blue. Her hair color tells me all I'll need to know about her mood, and pink is good.

“Well,” she shouts. “Put it on, Preacher-man!”

This time, Isaac really does choke but indulges Olive as he drapes the new grilling apron over his head and ties it behind his back. He runs his hands down the thick material, straightening it awkwardly.

“Yay!” she giggles. “Give us a spin.” She twirls her finger in a circle, and finally, a smile spreads across my face.

He lets out an exaggerated sigh, but does as she requested, knowing she won’t give up until she has her way. I cover my mouth, stifling a burst of laughter as I take in the white apron with the words Wake Pray Grill Slay scrawled across the front in large letters. It stands out against his blue linen button-down and khaki shorts, so un-Isaac-like that laughter-induced tears pool in my eyes.

A chorus of cheers follows, but a loud shriek has everyone, myself included, freezing. “Wait,” Oli cries, her hands flailing in the air. Her tight black turtleneck shifts with the movement, the ripped-up band tee overtop of it hiding her midriff. “I can’t believe I almost forgot the best part!”

She dashes across the lawn, her black and purple plaid skirt billowing in the breeze, gracing everyone with a full view of her fishnet tights, and dives for a box stashed beneath a picnic table. Throwing the lid over her head without a second thought, she digs through its contents.

I cringe as it collides with a pitcher of sweet tea, watching as Tanya jumps up and grabs the heavy glass before it can smash into the table and destroy everything. Her sudden movement has her own glass tipping over and landing on a platter of uncooked hotdogs, sending them toppling to the ground. Hank lets out an excited bark and flies across the lawn toward his next meal.

Everyone moves out of his way, knowing they’ll be bowled over in the chaos. John, the chubby basset hound’s owner, tries to catch him in time, but it’s no use. Before anyone can move to stop him, the dog devours his treat.

Oli, too distracted to notice or care about the havoc she’s created, whirls around with the box in her hands and skips through the pile of people and food, somehow making it out unscathed.

Unable to do a damn thing but watch the scene unfold with my mouth hanging open, I track her until she stops at my stepfather's feet and thrusts the open box into his nervous hands.

Isaac bites his thick lower lip and peers over her head, scanning the huge fenced-in area that makes up the front half of our church. My head cocks to the side as I take in the way he anxiously makes sure everyone in our congregation is well despite the destruction.

There are hundreds of people gathered for the annual Divinity Falls Baptist Church 4th of July picnic, and not a single person looks anything but tickled right now. Slowly, bright laughter fills the air, mingling with the scent of barbequed meat and suntan lotion.

The sound of kids splashing in Barry’s Pond can be heard in the distance. The leaves rustle in the wind, and the tall grass around the thicket of trees sashays, creating a summer symphony. It’s early evening, and even though it’s been a hot, sticky day, there’s a wonderful breeze that sends bursts of delicious smells my way.

Everyone is happy.

Everyone is always happy here.

We’re a family through and through, and that’s all because of Isaac.

As if he can hear my internal thoughts, his dark gaze meets mine. Even from a distance, I can see the way he softens when he spots me—the same way he always does.

All those years ago, when I was terrified about where I may end up after losing Mama, I had no idea that it would be exactly where I’d already been. Right here. With him.

Isaac never pushed me away or treated me as though I was a burden. He never made me feel like anything but his. He may not be my father, but he is my friend. My family.

He tilts his head to the side and cocks his brow, silently asking me what I’m doing so far away, outside the party area. I tip my shoulder in a shrug, and my exposed back scrapes against the willow’s rough bark, but I don’t move, content to sit here and watch everyone.

I’m happy for them. I really am. I’m glad they can get together and smile, enjoying the day for what it is—a celebration. But I can’t stop the way it causes the empty space in my soul where Mama and…

I swallow thickly and plaster on a massive smile, willing the sadness away and reassuring Isaac all at once. His lips part like he’s about to speak, and a pitiful whine spills from Oli’s mouth at the same moment she stomps her foot petulantly, and our moment ends.

His eyes snap to my best friend. I can’t hear what she says, but I’m assuming she’s giving Isaac a mouthful for ignoring her. No one ever calls Oli on her shit, but sometimes I worry they just might. This is the South, after all. People aren’t afraid to tell you how it is while simultaneously blessing your heart , consequences be damned. Sure, it might be sweet words, but we can all read through the lines.

Seconds later, she produces a white chef's hat, throws the box on the ground, and waves her hand, forcing him to bend at the waist so she can tug it onto his head. The tight cap presses down on his short, slightly peppered brown hair, plastering it to the sides of his head and forcing his ears to pop out a little.

A loud burst of laughter flies from me when she poofs up the hat, exposing the phrase Grill Daddy for everyone to see. Isaac makes a weird face but quickly forces his lips to curve in a smile before pressing a kiss to the top of Oli’s head and shooing her away.

“Alright, y’all,” Mary calls, stepping up to his side when Olive skips toward me. As Isaac straightens the apron again, Mary tucks her arm into the crook of his elbow, her red-painted nails digging into his tan, corded forearm.

My smile tightens as I zero in on her touch. It’s possessive, the way she’s grabbing him. He pats her hand, letting his fingers linger on hers before dropping his arm away.

My smile falls completely.

I swallow thickly as I watch them. Ugly jealousy bubbles to the surface, and I don’t know why. It’s not that I want Isaac to be unhappy or that I don’t want him to move on. Just not with her.

“That was plenty of excitement,” she laughs, her blonde hair blowing in the summer breeze. “Preacher Isaac,” she smiles up at him, and I want to fucking scream, “ready to get this party goin’?”

He gives her a smile before turning it toward the congregation.

“Let us pray,” Isaac says, bowing his head as he takes off the chef’s hat.

My hands ball into fists, ripping the grass from the ground. Oli plops beside me, snickering as she gently elbows me.

“You look like you ate something sour,” she teases, flipping a lock of my blonde hair off my shoulder. “Oh, and Kevin said he could see up your dress.” She gives a pointed look at my bent legs and the hem of my white ruffled dress that’s slightly riding up my thighs, so I let them drop to the ground.

“He could not,” I huff out, and she shrugs. “This dress isn’t short enough for him to see anything.” I mentally run through which panties I chose to wear today. Thong or boyshorts? Thong or boyshorts? I shift, and the cool grass under me chills my cheeks.

Shit. He totally just got a show.

“You think he’s ever seen a vag before?” she asks, and I gasp mid-breath.

“Maybe online,” I say, but honestly, I can’t see him ever looking it up. He wouldn’t even know what to Google.

“Speaking of,” Oli says, drawing the words out. “How much have you made this month?” My eyes dart around the small group gathered around us.

“Not now,” I hiss, and she gives me a sly grin, knowing this is not something I’d ever want to discuss in public.

“Do you need us to make another special run?” She wiggles her brows at me, her mouth opening in an excited smile as she bumps my shoulder with hers.

“No,” I scoff, still scanning the party to make sure we have no eavesdroppers. I slide my eyes to her and smile back, unable to hide it anymore. “I have a package coming to your house.” She claps and lets out a piercing cackle, drawing a few people’s attention.

“What is it this time?” she asks, scooting closer. Her face is only inches from mine, her smile wide as she rubs her hands together. “Is it a butt plug? You know, they have ones with tails. You could have a tail, Evie! How cool would that be?”

“That’s definitely more your thing,” I laugh, and she nods her agreement, a serious expression overtaking her innocent face, and I immediately know she’s imagining just that. My eyes narrow on her. “What animal would you pick?”

Her green eyes lock onto mine as she bites her tongue in concentration, considering my question as though I asked her what the capital of New Mexico is instead of what type of animalistic butt plug she’d wear. I watch her work through it, thoroughly entertained by my best friend.

Suddenly, she grins. It’s not a normal look. It’s slightly crazed. Oli’s fingers pinch together, open and closed, open and closed, like tiny chopsticks. “A little baby lobster,” she coos.

I blink once. Twice. My mouth opens and closes just like her fingers did a moment ago as she mimed—pinchers?

“Olive—” I say slowly, hating to be the one to bust her happy bubble. It’s my least favorite thing in the world. “Honey. Lobsters don’t have tails.” At least not the kind she’s thinking of.

Her hands drop, and she rears back like I’ve slapped her. “I know that.”

“But do you?” I ask, brushing the wayward strands of my chaotic curls from my face when a gust of hot wind blows through the party.

She huffs. “Of course I do. Why would you even say that?” Completely confused, my hands flail between us. “Because you were talking about bu—” I snap my jaw shut seconds before loudly making a scene in the worst place imaginable. I lean forward and whisper-hiss, “You were talking about butt plugs with animal tails on them, Olive. Lobsters don’t have tails.”

She closes the few inches separating us, coming in so close her breath fans across my lips with every word. “I thought we were just naming animals.”

“Have you been drinking?” I murmur, glaring at her as the heady scent of vodka permeates the air. Olive grins, bobbing her head. “How?” Alcohol is strictly forbidden.

Here, at least.

Divinity Falls isn’t a dry town by any means, but we’re on church property, and being the unofficial child of the town Preacher means something to these people. It comes with certain— expectations . Even at 20 years old, sobriety is one of them. Especially considering Isaac’s past.

She pulls back and quickly scans the crowd. I follow her gaze, finding everyone now occupied with eating the freshly barbequed meat and sides as they chat loudly with their friends. Oli spins, giving her back to the group, and tugs her legs up into a bent position before digging into her Doc Martin.

Seconds later, she produces a small pink metal flask from the depths of her shoe, and I’m left gaping in shock. Without a word, she reaches over me, plucks my favorite yellow Yeti bottle of sweet tea from the ground, and removes the lid.

“What are you doing?” I choke out, even though I know exactly what she’s doing. She ignores me and uncaps her flask.

My eyes dart over Oli’s head, and I scan the party once more, my heart racing in my chest. Getting in trouble is the last thing I want to do right now.

My gaze immediately snags on Isaac at the pit with his back to us. The woman wearing a fitted red, white, and blue dress that shows way too much cleavage is glued to his side like a second skin.

That unfamiliar pang of jealous irritation burns in my chest again before sinking into my gut and settling like a brick. It aches in a way I haven’t felt for a long damn time, and I instantly hate it.

Why is Mary all over him?

And why do I care so much?

Oli thrusts my cup at me forcefully, and it snaps me from my staring contest with Mary and Isaac’s backs. I watch her take a quick, unmixed gulp of the fiery liquid before returning the flask back to her boot. I hold in a gag, not wanting to think about the boot alcohol now mixed in my tea. A shiver of repulsion dances along my spine but it’s immediately overshadowed by the loud tinkling laughter that I unfortunately recognize.

I grit my teeth at the sound.

“Oh, Evie,” Mary coos loudly. “Come eat.” Her face contorts into a disapproving look as she scans Oli and me sitting ungracefully in the dirt and grass, but quickly masks it. “Bring your friend.” With that, she spins and turns her attention back to my stepfather.

An irritated scoff slips from my lips as I roll my eyes, unable to hide my disdain for her anymore. I shove to my feet, Oli following close behind.

“It bothers you that she’s touching him.” The simple, effortless way she drops such a line has me freezing mid-step. Completely unaware, she runs into my back with a grunt.

“You’re delusional, Oli,” I say, ignoring the way her words pierce my chest.

Oli grabs my cup and lifts it to my mouth with a cocked brow. “Delusion is where success lies,” she says matter-of-factly.

I take a quick, deep pull from my straw, wincing at the burn from the alcohol. “I can’t tell if that’s very Gandhi or very ganja of you.”

She shrugs as her lips curve into a sly grin. She tucks her arm into mine and tugs me toward our friends and families.

“Probably both.”