Chapter 9

LYNN

ONE WEEK LATER

"Hey, new girl! How many times have I told you the pretzels need more salt!?"

I draw in a breath and recite my mantra in my head before saying screw it and turning to my boss. "Ennis, it's already such a salt lick. I'm shocked we don't have random cattle dropping by for a sit-down meal." I'm really in no mood.

Sara, another of my coworkers, stifles a laugh by the soda machine and Ennis glares at her. "Enough with that attitude," he sniffs before stalking to the other side of the booth.

"Can you give me a hand, Lynn?" Sara emphasizes my name, talking louder than strictly necessary. Ennis pretends not to hear.

I join her with a grin of appreciation. It's the first home game in over a week, and I'm on pins and needles. It doesn't help that the announcer's voice is loud enough out here for me to hear every word. And despite my determination not to pay any attention, I know Joey has already had a few good plays tonight. Not that I care or anything.

The entire three hours leading up to game time, I was jumping out of my skin every time I spied a tall, dark-haired figure in my peripheral vision. But I've relaxed a bit since the team took the field, and I know I'm safe from any visiting ballplayers.

Not that I expect Joey to hunt me down. I was quite definitive the last time I saw him, so he's got to know where I stand. And it's not like I want to see him or talk to him again. He's a jerk. A meathead. A caveman. And that's the furthest thing from my ideal man. If I were looking, that is.

But my conviction in the matter didn't keep me from being abnormally subdued on my beach trip with my friends last week. Sadie, my dorm big sister—and favorite senior this past year who I'm going to miss like crazy next year—even sat me down for a chat to find out what had me so blue. When I told her the bare bones of the story, Sadie agreed the whole thing sounded shady. And I trust her one hundred percent, so I know I'm wise to steer clear of Joey and his toxic circle of jocks.

Too bad I still can't seem to shake the blues.

I suppose it could have something to do with the unanswered texts sitting on my phone.

But this is so not me. I don't let men get me into my feelings like this, so I need to find a way to shake it off and get on with my life.

"Where are the hot dogs?!" Ennis shouts, and for once, I'm happy to return my focus to greasy stadium food and my asshole boss.

* * *

"Still no sign of Larry?"I ask my brother Miller as I sidle up to the bar at Blue Bigfoot the next day before opening.

"Sadly, no. I'm afraid he might be gone for good," he replies, blowing his dirty-blond hair from his eyes as he wipes the bar down.

"Damn." Larry is Blue Bigfoot's mascot, a Sasquatch statue that belonged to our dad and was carved by an old friend of his before that friend became a famous sculptor and started earning a ton of money for his work. The statue has sat by the cash register since the day Blue Bigfoot opened, but it was stolen a few weeks back when the brewery had a break-in. "And the cops still have no leads?"

"Nope." This comes from Carter, my oldest brother, as he and his girlfriend, Sunny, approach from behind me, and he throws an arm around my shoulder. "You speaking to me yet?" he asks, not looking nearly as apologetic as he should.

"That depends. Are you sorry?"

He adopts an expression that tells me he's about to lie, and Sunny smacks his arm for me.

"Never mind." I roll my eyes. These numbskulls are going to need to reimburse me for the eye surgery I'll need to repair the damage from all the eye-rolling they cause me.

"Well, he scared Jeremy off, by the looks of it, so he'll have to eat humble pie with both of you at some point," Sunny shares before looking up at her boyfriend again. She's so much shorter than him, it's almost comical, but I love her for taking on my big bro, no matter how much he annoys me. "Is there any way you guys can commission a new Larry from Morton Frye?" She squints at me.

Miller laughs almost hard enough to send his forehead into the bar. "Did one of you win the lottery and not tell me?"

"That bad?" Sunny asks, and we all nod in response. I don't know the exact value of Larry, but I'm fairly certain it's way more money than any of us have seen outside of a game of Monopoly.

We all ponder that momentarily, wishing for things that can't be. But we Brookses are used to that, so it doesn't take long for us to brush the thought aside and get on with it.

"We're heading out to grab lunch. You guys want us to bring something back?" Cart offers. I notice we're not invited on this little lunch outing, which tells me I might not want to know what they're actually doing. Gross.

"No, thanks," Miller and I reply in tandem, clearly thinking the same thing.

As soon as the happy couple is out of earshot, Miller confirms my suspicion by saying, "I don't think I can eat a burrito that's witnessed those two going at it."

I snort out a laugh. "Same."

But my laugh dies in my throat when Miller continues, "Speaking of lovebirds, how are things with your boyfriend?"

My brain immediately flashes to the memory of kissing Joey under the stars, and a giant boulder lands at the bottom of my stomach with a force that threatens to take my knees out from under me. Miller eyes me curiously from across the bar, and I panic for a second before the synapses in my brain finally start connecting again and I can breathe properly.

However, my laugh is still a bit forced when I explain, "I'm not dating anyone. I just told those idiots I was because they were being, well, idiots."

When Jeremy had been texting me trying to reconnect with Carter, my brothers lost their shit, so I told them I had a boyfriend to shut them up. Or maybe to throw it in their faces? I'm not sure which. Either way, it was just a ruse I'd forgotten about until Miller brought it up.

Miller snickers and continues wiping down the bar. Of all my brothers, he's the least overbearing, probably because we're so much closer in age. Over a decade separates me from Cash and Carter, and Denny is closing in on thirty himself. And while Miller still oversteps sometimes, I tend to be more open with him about most things. I think our bond is due to our shared feeling of missing out on way more time with our dad than our older brothers did.

"Well, they won't hear it from me," Miller promises with a click of his tongue ring against his teeth.

I smile in response as Miller reaches for his clattering phone on the bar top to see who's calling. When I catch his expression before he answers, I know it must be his girlfriend, Maisy, so I excuse myself down the bar to give him privacy.

Without my permission, my thumb glides over my own phone screen, waking it to reveal the same texts I've read over a dozen times already.

Joey:

I'm sorry.

Joey:

Can we talk? I'd really like to apologize and explain.

And the last one that's had me in knots…

Joey:

Adam Duritz is a poet.

Because Adam Duritz, the lead singer and lyricist of the Counting Crows, is indeed a poet. And Joey remembers the song I said I loved. The same one that played while we shared our first—and only—kiss.

Dammit!

"Maisy and Bear are bringing lunch over before we open." Miller pulls my attention from my phone, and I quickly shove it into my back pocket.

"Awesome," I reply, telling the truth. I adore Maisy and her little brother, Bear. He's a riot.

"No traumatized burritos who've seen too much."

I muster a smile for Miller. Who needs men when I already have so many awesome people in my life?

Not me. Nope.