Chapter 17

seventeen

BECCA

"Larry. Wake up."

I patted Laramie's pale cheek opposite where her face was smooshed against her upper arm. She was flopped over on a chaise lounge in an honest-to-goodness powder room outside the women's restroom.

"Larry." I tried again, pushing dark hair off her face. Her expert eye makeup was ruined from crying, but at least we were alone. The bar was plenty busy, though, and I was shocked that no one had found Larry in here and called for help.

When I'd hurried through the front doors moments ago, I'd been a little surprised by my surroundings. Magnolia Bar was one of the few places in Kirby Falls that I hadn't visited yet. It was on the first block of Main Street and clearly catered to tourists. Everything was polished wood with trendy black and white decor. It looked like a modern speakeasy.

Magnolia lacked the warmth, character, and sticky floors of Mattie B's. It was missing the charm and gorgeous outdoor space of Firefly Cider. But I could see how out-of-towners might be comfortable here—even impressed.

The high-top tables and plush booths were full of puffy vest–wearing outsiders, laughing and drinking men and women who were temporary in the grand scheme of Kirby Falls. I couldn't imagine Mac or Jordan or Chloe ever hanging out here .

So what was Larry doing in this bar?

The tattooed bartender behind the long, gleaming bar top looked intimidatingly handsome. It was strange because he'd seemed approachable and friendly earlier in the day when he'd played with me on the Bar Hoppers' softball team. I was pretty sure his name was Jack. But if he'd recognized me from the field, he didn't say so. He hadn't stopped or acknowledged me as I bypassed the bar and walked right back toward the wooden sign with an arrow that read Ladies in elegant script.

"Laramie Jean Burke," I finally said firmly, middle-naming her in an effort to get her up so we could get out of here.

It worked. She groaned and mumbled out between red-smeared lips, "My middle name is Annabeth."

Crouching down before her, I tried to catch her bleary eyes, but they were unfocused and miserable. "What happened, Larry?"

"Can you take me home first? Please, Becca." Her blue eyes welled with tears, and my fear ratcheted up another notch. Larry was the most direct, unafraid person I'd ever met—besides maybe Cece. I couldn't bear that she was hurting, that she'd been desperate enough to need my help in the first place.

"You got it, babe."

Together, we worked to get her standing. I smoothed her short pleated skirt over her fishnet stockings and looped my arms through hers to keep her steady and upright. Then we walked out of Magnolia and to my car in the parking lot across the street. Larry had to stop to puke in the bushes lining the walkway, but she seemed buoyed after that and we made it the rest of the way to my SUV without incident.

She managed to give me her address before resting her head on the cool glass of the passenger side window and falling asleep. I checked her breathing at every stoplight as I drove just to make sure she was okay.

Approximately eight minutes later, my navigation instructed me to pull into a short driveway. The one-story brick house looked like a duplex with two front doors and big bay windows that mirrored each other on each side .

I woke Larry and got her up onto the front porch before I realized she wasn't carrying a purse or any sort of bag. Her phone had been wedged in her bra beneath a low-cut black shirt when I'd found her in the powder room.

"Larry, do you have a key?" I asked.

She was propped up against one of the porch columns, eyes closed. "Under the cactus."

Sure enough, there was a potted cactus to the left side of the first unit. I carefully lifted the planter and retrieved a key. When I stood, I noticed Larry was staring at the door on the right, so I made my way over there to unlock it.

"Shit, no," Larry called in a frantic whisper. "Mine is on the left."

I looked at the white front door that had a 107 on it and then stepped over to quickly unlock 105 as she'd indicated.

Larry's apartment was a little like Larry herself—sleek and stylish but chaotic. I ushered my drunken charge past boots and high heels piled by the front door, beyond the low black leather couch, and back to a bedroom that had a huge bed framed between two tall windows. Stray clothes covered nearly the entire surface of her fluffy white duvet. It looked like she'd been trying to decide what to wear and needed to try on everything in her closet.

"You sit," I ordered after grabbing an armload of shirts, dresses, bras, and jeans and clearing them to a desk chair in the corner. I flipped on the desk lamp while I was over there so I could see better to get her settled.

In the bathroom, I found a dark washcloth and then a bottle of aspirin in the medicine cabinet. After a quick detour to the kitchen for a glass of water, I returned to find Larry sitting dutifully on the edge of the mattress. Her eyes were closed.

I unlaced her shiny boots that went up past her ankles and slipped them off. Then I took advantage of her closed eyes and started wiping away the smeared mascara and eyeliner.

Larry surprised me when she started speaking unprompted, "I went to Magnolia to hang out with Kayla." I knew that Kayla was Larry's best friend. They'd gone to high school together, and Larry had mentioned Kayla playing on her trivia team as well, but I'd never met the woman myself. "She was working tonight, but I didn't mind. I've sat at the bar plenty of nights while she served the tourists."

I tried to be gentle as I forced the dark makeup from her pale skin. But I ignored the red staining her lips because I thought Laramie needed to get this off her chest and I didn't want to interrupt.

"But there was some hipster-looking guy flirting with her all night. He had this dopey mustache that curled up on the ends, and she just kept drifting over to chat with him. I guess I was irritated because here I was, after she'd invited me, sitting on a barstool all by myself so she could get cozy with this—this guy ." She said guy like he was the heir of Slytherin or a Kardashian.

Finished with the washcloth, I moved to sit beside Larry on the bed. In silent support, I pressed my shoulder to hers.

"Then Kayla told me she was getting off early. Jack was back behind the bar, and she could take off, but she was going home with the hipster, and she'd see me later."

"I'm sorry. That was a crappy thing to do after she'd invited you to the bar," I said gently. But something about Larry's hurt led me to believe this wound went a little deeper.

"I guess I took it bad because I started drinking. Not just nursing the beer I'd had all night. But taking shots people bought for me. Jack cut me off and told me to call for a ride, and I thought, I can't call Kayla to come and get me because she's off—she's off banging some guy at his Airbnb."

"Does she pick up guys a lot?" I asked, testing a theory.

Larry shook her head and then stopped herself abruptly, as if the movement might cause all those shots to perform an encore. "No. She actually dated the same guy since high school. They broke up this spring because long distance wasn't working anymore, and I thought. Well, I thought she . . . "

Her voice trailed off, and my heart ached for this tough girl who maybe had an unknown soft spot. "And you thought she might start looking at you."

Larry turned to face me, her eyes bloodshot and full of tears.

"Oh, honey," I murmured and then wrapped her up in my arms. "I won't tell anyone." Suddenly, her assurance from weeks ago that she could be discreet and wouldn't tell Will about my crush made a lot more sense. "I can keep a secret too."

Larry cried sloppy on my shoulder for a time, and then she warned me that she needed to puke again. So I helped her to a bathroom that was covered in cosmetics and held her hair back while she emptied her stomach of alcohol. She mumbled drunkenly about how she'd been in love with Kayla since high school and that her family didn't know she was bisexual. She kept going on dates, hoping to meet someone and get over her best friend, who also happened to be her neighbor and completely heterosexual. They'd shared a wall and a duplex for over four years.

I didn't know what to say or how to reassure Larry, so I listened, and I wiped her mouth with a towel when she couldn't manage it herself.

When all that was done, I got Larry into some pajamas and made her take a couple of aspirin with a full glass of water. Then I slept beside her to make sure she didn't need me again.

The following morning, Larry's alarm sounded at eight, and I figured she was supposed to be at the farm by nine. She grumbled and groaned but made her way into the shower. Maybe not fully functioning but hovering at a solid sixty percent.

I got up and found my way around her kitchen. After making some coffee, I went simple with some buttered toast and hoped she could manage to keep it down.

She fell on the impromptu breakfast with reckless abandon, considering I'd had a front-row seat for how unstable her gastrointestinal system had been a mere six hours ago.

"Thanks for riding to my rescue last night, Becca. I hope I didn't pull you away from anything."

Clearly, she hadn't remembered the phone call and me telling her I was at Will's. I took a sip of coffee before admitting, "I'm glad I could help you when you needed it. I was actually having dinner at Will's place. You told me not to tell him it was you when you called."

"Oh shit," she said around a triangle of toast. "I vaguely remember that. I'm sorry I messed up your night. What did you tell him? "

Uneasiness had my stomach clenching when I thought of Will's reaction to the way I'd hurried off last night. "I told him something came up with my family that I needed to take care of. It wasn't that far-fetched. But I think he was hurt that I rushed off like I did."

"I'll talk to him," Larry said decisively.

"No, it's okay. Last night was your business, and you don't owe an explanation to anyone. I could see why you wouldn't want Will to know, but I don't think he truly considers you incapable or bad at your job. I can't imagine he'd hold a drunken Thursday night against you."

Larry laughed a little bitterly. "Will lives by the hard truth that if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. He thinks Grandpappy's would crumble and blow away without him there to keep it all together. It's like he took all his baseball drive and determination and put it into being a martyr for the farm."

I frowned at her interpretation. She saw it and raised her hands, saying, "Calm down, tiger. I know he works hard, and I know he didn't ask for any of it. If Will had his way, he'd be in the middle of the playoffs right now, throwing strikes and kicking ass. He's just an intense personality. Always has been. I guess my drunk ass didn't want to give him any more ammunition in thinking I'm an incompetent waste of space."

I agreed with part of Larry's assessment of her cousin. He did put too much on his own shoulders, but he put it there himself. Will wasn't someone who asked for help, and he didn't expect anyone to do things on the farm that he wouldn't do himself. It was why he helped out and provided support wherever he was needed—on the tractor, in the fields, or even with the catering and events.

But part of what Larry said rubbed me the wrong way. "There's no way he considers you an incompetent waste of space, Larry. He's never said one bad word about you to me. And I can't imagine he even thinks those things where you're concerned."

Larry smirked. "Getting to know my dear cousin so very well, are you? Y'all finally stopped dancing around each other?"

I felt heat make the journey from my neck to my cheeks. "We're working on it."

"What does that mean? "

"It means we're trying."

Larry's eyes narrowed, and she took a thoughtful sip of coffee. "Are you staying in Kirby Falls?"

I thought about the emails I hadn't answered from a real estate agent in town and how I was dragging my feet deciding what to do about Mrs. Walters's apartment. Then there was the panic I felt at abandoning my sister to her dangerous lifestyle. "I want to," I said quietly, unable to meet the accusation in Laramie's gaze.

"You know everyone loves you, and we'd support you moving here without question. But you need to decide what you're doing. Will's life is here whether he wants it to be or not. He's too loyal to ever leave the farm and the Clark legacy. I imagine it's hard to be with you in this in-between, undecided state. Obviously, he cares about you, but if you're just going to up and leave when the apple cider doughnuts run out and the corn gets harvested, then what's the fucking point? Will looks at you like you're endgame, but if you bail on Kirby Falls, he'll be left the loser."

I swallowed the lump that had swollen in my throat as Larry spoke. I didn't want to hurt Will. I knew that if I broke his heart, I'd destroy my own in the process. But I was scared too. I couldn't deny that. I had obligations and responsibilities the same way Will did. Sure, mine weren't as noble or flashy, but there were things about Detroit that it would kill me to abandon. It would mean giving up on my sister once and for all. Because when I was out of sight, out of mind, and never coming back, Heather would no longer seek me out for the bare minimum. And while that might sound like a good thing to a normal, well-adjusted person, to me, it just meant that I wouldn't have any family left. I'd be alone, and that would be it. Giving up Mrs. Walters's apartment would be like saying goodbye to her all over again.

But Larry was right; I needed to figure out exactly what I wanted and make it happen. The back-and-forth, wishy-washy indecision would only make things harder in the long run.

"I don't want to hurt anyone," I confessed.

"I know," Larry said, her face softening into a tired smile. "Big changes are scary and hard. I'm a hypocrite to sit here and tell you to throw caution to the wind and take what you want." I started to protest but she waved me away. "I'm tired of whining about me. What I'm saying is, it might be terrifying to reorder your life for Kirby Falls and us and Will"—she fluttered her lashes dreamily—"but it'll be worth it."

Smiling her direction, I nodded because I did know that.

Larry shook her head, amused. "Will is one of the best people I know. He'd stop and help a stranger change their tire on the side of the road or give someone the shirt off his back. He'll do anything for you, Becca babe. He just won't smile while he does it."

I grinned. I knew that too.

"Did you ever hear how he ended up with Carl?"

I straightened, immediately interested in the story. "No. How did that happen?"

"Years ago, after Will graduated and came home. He was bitter and angry for a long while. It was during one of the summer markets downtown. The animal shelter had a booth set up for a big adoption event. Will was breaking down the Grandpappy's setup at the end of the day. Afterward, he walked by the pens and cages the shelter was packing up and saw they had one dog left. It wasn't particularly friendly. Not jumping around, eager for attention. An adult dog who didn't give a shit if anyone picked him or not. They told Will they'd had this dog for six months and not a single taker. He sat in his cage with his back to everyone, unimpressed with the prospect of trying to get adopted. Will took him home that day. And now Carl rarely leaves his side . . . except to seek you out apparently." I grinned. "There's a moral in there about patience or obstinate males or worthiness or something, but I'll let you figure it out."

My heart felt like it might burst thinking about a grumpy man and a grumpy dog trying to find their way together. It sounded like Will had needed someone when he was hurting and forced to return home. I was glad Will and Carl had found each other.

"Well, I better get to work. Hopefully, I'm not on hayride duty this morning, or I'm going to barf all over the leafers."

I laughed.

"Thanks again for taking care of me last night, Becca. I owe you."

"You don't owe me anything. That's what friends are for. "

I thought about what Larry had said as I drove to the tiny house. I did need to decide what I was going to do. No more dragging my feet through indecision valley.

I was staying in Kirby Falls. I'd rent out the apartment. I'd tell my sister goodbye and hope she'd want to keep in touch.

Sure, I'd have to go back to Detroit at some point to pack up my things and meet with potential tenants for Mrs. Walters's apartment, but now that I'd settled on this course of action, I felt lighter, freer, braver.

I'd work at the tiny house today and get my plan together. Then I'd talk to Will, reassure him that I was committed to a future here—with him. I'd do what I could to wipe that look off his face when I'd left last night.

Things were shaping up. Larry was right. It would be scary. Change always was. But it would be worth it in the end.

I smiled to myself as I pulled out my laptop and made another cup of coffee.

I had some real estate agent emails to return.