Page 93 of Any Luck at All

“For the record, I could spout an earful about how you and Lee kept this from me,” Adalia grumbled. “But for now, I’ll focus on his desire to be a Buchanan, because come on…” She shook her head. “Why on earth he wouldwantto be one of us is beyond me.”

“That’s a very good point, but he did, and he wanted it badly. So I went against my better judgment and caved,” she finished with a sigh.

“And what lesson did we learn here?” Adalia asked in a high-pitched voice.

“Not to trust men?” Georgie asked with a hint of a grin.

Adalia’s upper lip curled and she gave a brisk nod. “That too, but our other lesson is not to compromise our principles. For anyone.”

Her voice broke, and Georgie knew she was talking about her own hard-learned lesson too.

Reaching across the table, Georgie grabbed Adalia’s hand and squeezed. “I have a lot of regrets, Addy, but one of my biggest was losing you along the way.”

Tears filled Adalia’s eyes. “You didn’t lose me, Georgie. I was always there.”

“Then I underappreciated you.” She squeezed her hand tighter. “I know what’s important now, Addy. River taught me that.”

Sadness filled Adalia’s eyes. “Maybe you haven’t lost him, Georgie. Maybe he just needs some time.”

Georgie shook her head. “No. Too many people have betrayed him, and I was one person too many.”

And that was what hurt her most of all.

Chapter Thirty-Six

River had tried to run away once, after he’d gone to live with Aunt Dottie—beenleftto live with her. He’d bought a bus ticket to Savannah with the allowance money she’d given him for helping with her energetic necklaces. Savannah was the last city from which Esmerelda had sent him a postcard. But he hadn’t known what to do when he’d arrived. He was still just a kid, even at thirteen, and he felt every bit of his youth as he wandered around the city. After a few hours of going around to different souvenir shops and asking about her, learning nothing, he’d called his aunt. (The phone number he had for Esmerelda had been disconnected months before.) She’d left immediately to get him, and Beau had skipped the rest of his workday to come with her.

Neither of them had yelled or carried on—they hadn’t even tried to make him feel guilty by telling him how much they’d worried. Instead, they’d taken him out to dinner, like they’dmeantto come to Savannah in the middle of the week, but when Aunt Dottie went to the restroom during dinner, Beau had told him the truth.

Those postcards he’d been getting from Esmerelda every few weeks had all been written by his aunt’s hand. She’d wanted to make him feel better—to make him believe that his mother cared enough to reach out. But Esmerelda hadn’t. She didn’t. He knew she was alive. Every so often, he’d find something online about her jewelry, something that proved she was still out there, somewhere, but it was as if River had ceased to exist for her.

That had made him feel screwed up inside for weeks afterward. Months. Years, even. But that was nothing compared to what he felt now.

After leaving Georgie’s house, he drove back to the loft, but he couldn’t bring himself to go in, so he just walked for hours, walked until his legs got tired. He saw a few people he knew—something that always happened if he walked downtown—but he couldn’t summon the energy to do more than nod. When he finally got home, Hops had broken out of the crate, and there was a mess on the floor. Torn-up paper and pee. Worse, his water was empty and so was his food bowl. The puppy whimpered at his feet, pawing at them.

What had he been thinking, taking in a dog? He couldn’t take care of a puppy. He’d have to leave Asheville anyway, wouldn’t he? After all of this, he’d have to leave, and not just because the noncompete he’d signed ensured he couldn’t work in the field. He couldn’t live here, near Georgie, surrounded by memories of how life had been and his ruined dreams about how it might be.

He’d have to channel his mother and uproot himself. It had always been so easy for her to leave a place behind, apersonbehind, or at least she’d made it seem that way.

He brought Hops out, fed and watered him, and then proceeded to down the majority of a bottle of whiskey. Sometimes beer just wasn’t enough.

He woke up past eleven the next morning to Hops pawing at him, whining, and another mess. His head feeling like it had been hit with an anvil, he brought the little dog out, feeling a swell of worthlessness—how long had Hops been trying to wake him, anyway?

It felt wrong to be home. He felt like he should be at the office, preparing for the events. The messed-up thing was that he feltguiltyabout leaving it all to Georgie. About abandoning her when she needed him.

She betrayed you, he reminded himself.She lied to you. They all did.

So why wouldn’t the guilt go away? Why couldn’t he stop wondering what Georgie was doing? How she was feeling?

Why couldn’t he stop wanting to ease her pain?

Because you’re a fool.

Hops whimpered again, and River gave himself a mental shake. If nothing else, he could get Hops sorted. He could help him find the kind of home he deserved.

He’d shut his phone down last night, but he turned it on now, ignoring the missed texts on the home screen, though he did notice the names. Aunt Dottie. Finn. No Georgie.

Which only made him wonder again what she was thinking.

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