Page 26 of The County Fair Queen

"I don't remember asking for a history lesson." I tried to stand, but my legs were wobbly, and I fell back on the deck, landing on my punctured glute. Yet again, Rivers lost his fucking mind.

"Careful," he scolded. He reached for me, scooping me into his arms. Arguing would be pointless, so I wrapped an arm around his back for support. He opened the door and ushered us intothe living room, keeping an eye out for the pig along the way. Thankfully, the piglet was laying inside an opened crate when we walked past, snoring obnoxiously. The home was dark, the only source of light was the roaring fireplace in the living room. Rivers carried me toward a love seat and carefully eased me onto it before kneeling in front of me.

"Is your head hurting?" He leaned in, searching my face for battle wounds.

"A little bit," I admitted. "I'll be fine. Once Brenda/Carole shows up, I can just ask for one of her Vicodin. She seems to have an endless supply of them. I doubt she'll mind."

"No," Rivers said before standing up and marching into his kitchen. As he stormed off like a petulant child, I locked my gaze on his ass. I was more than likely concussed; I couldn't be held responsible for my lingering gazes.

When he returned, he was holding a glass of water and a handful of little brown pills. "These won't get you high, but they'll help with the pain. I don't like the idea of you taking someone else's prescription. You could get hurt."

"For fuck's sake, it's just a Vicodin. Chill." I snatched the pills and tossed them into my mouth. What I had assumed was water turned out to be a flavor explosion. It was crisp and sweet, with an almost fruitlike flavor. I eyed the glass, then Rivers.

"I do wish he'd watch his mouth," Aunt Lurlene said to Jordan. She took a seat in the plush recliner on the other side of the coffee table. "You'd think he was brought up by Protestants with the way he cusses."

"I don't know what this is," I said. "But it's probably the single-greatest thing to ever touch my tongue."

Jordan took a seat on the sofa to my right, flicking on his tablet screen. "The boys back home will be devastated, I'm sure."

"Lemon rosewater," Rivers said. "It's Beau's favorite." He stared into the kitchen. "I'm sorry about all of that. It's not thefirst impression I'd been hoping for. I take it you're not too fond of Fudge at the moment?"

"Too much sugar," I said. "I'm good, thanks."

He laughed, resting his hand against the back of my head and gently stroking the spot that had almost been crushed in by his grill. I could have slapped his hand away if I'd wanted, but he'd probably just put it right back.

"Fudge is the pig," he clarified, staring apologetically toward the crate. "He's a good boy, really. It just takes him a second to open up to new people. He'll love you before long, I just know it."

Aunt Lurlene cleared her throat, and when Rivers and I broke eye contact, all three of them were staring at me with ranging expressions. Jordan had a subtle smirk. Preston looked absolutely bewildered. As for Aunt Lurlene? Somewhere along the way, she'd shapeshifted into a real-life embodiment of the heart-eyed emoji.

I looked away, hoping the heat spreading across my cheeks wasn't too noticeable. There was a picture frame on the coffee table, and when I reached for it, Rivers brushed my hand away and grabbed the picture for me.

"Careful," he warned affectionately. "You're still shaken up, Firecracker. Don't want you to hurt yourself."

"I can reach for a picture frame, Riv. I'm not completely helpless."

In the photo, Rivers and a woman were standing in front of a church. He was wearing a tux that clung to him like a second skin. He didn't look much younger than he did now, so I knew it couldn't have been more than a few years old. The woman was wearing a white gown—strapless, showing off her golden shoulders. Her makeup was simple, wearing just a bit of foundation and a layer of maroon lipstick. She wore her hair in a beautiful updo, and there was a small silver tiara resting in thecenter. In the middle of the tiara was a purple gemstone, just like the one I'd been given when I was crowned Muscadine Queen.

There was a kid standing in front of them, maybe three or four years old. Despite both of their gleeful grins, the kid looked completely put-out by the entire situation. He had his arms crossed against his chest, and his nails were digging into his jacket. He wore a tux that matched Rivers', but the jacket was unbuttoned, and his shirt was untucked. I was pretty sure there was a strawberry Twizzler poking out of his pocket.

"Cute kid," I said.

"That's Beau," he said, tapping the boy's face. "He wasn't too happy that morning because he had to miss his cartoons, but he came around in the end."

"Came around to what?"

"The wedding," he said. "We didn't get married until he turned four. We'd always planned on it, but then something would come up and we'd just put it off." His finger moved from his son's face to the woman's. "This is Sabrina."

"Sabrina," I said, trying to place her. "She looks familiar."

"She moved here when me and you were in senior year. She was two grades below us. She won Muscadine Queen after you left. Beau's got her crown up in his room. He likes to wear it sometimes."

"Maybe I'll bring mine out of retirement and we can all show them off in town sometime," I said. "So, you're married?"

He shook his head. "She died last year." His voice cracked on the words. He sniffed in a heavy breath and plastered on his politician's smile to hide away the hurt.

"I'm sorry." I knew the words weren't much, but I meant them. We may not have been friends, but I wasn't a monster. I was fully capable of basic human empathy. He tugged the frame out of my hand and set it back on the coffee table, but he didn't move from his place in front of me.

"She was a big fan of yours. Beau is, too. We used to play your band's albums around the house, so you guys were something we all shared. It was almost like you were part of the family. I think that's why Beau's still so enamored with you."

---