Page 94 of Any Luck at All

He sent off a quick text to Maisie:I need to bring Hops back today. I can’t take care of him anymore. This isn’t working.

Her response was immediate:Meet me at the clubhouse at 3. No Hops. No excuses.

Huh. Did that mean she knew what had happened? Had Georgie told people?

No, it had to be Finn. Finn couldn’t shut his mouth if world peace depended on it.

Part of him wanted to tell her no, but he needed to see a friendly face, and one that had no connection to the Buchanans and their manipulations and the love he begrudgingly bore for them.

And she’d mentioned the clubhouse, which he hadn’t thought about in years. Her dad had built it for Maisie and her sisters, but no one had really used it other than River and Maisie. It wasn’t much—little more than room for a table and a couple of chairs. Some books and games. But it had felt like a safe haven. Like a place where he didn’t need to worry about being the new kid, or the stupid kid, or the kid who’d gotten left behind. Somewhere he could just be River. As far as he knew, she only used it for the foster dogs now.

OKwas all he said in response.

It felt a little weird when he got there, walking past Maisie’s house and out to the clubhouse. Like maybe he was trespassing, or like fifteen years had been erased, and he was that lost teenage boy again. But he’d seen her car in the drive, so surely she was there.

He knocked on their door, and she called out, “Use the code, doofus,” and he smiled—actually smiled—as he used their knock.

She opened the door, and he was surprised to see she looked like she hadn’t gotten much sleep either. Was the fundraiser going that badly?

“Is everything okay?” he asked. “You look tired.”

“You’re saying that to me?” she said with a smirk. “You should look in the mirror, bud.” She waved behind her. “Come in. Take a seat.”

It looked just like he remembered it. Hell, from what he could tell, she even had the same furniture in there, although everything smelled powerfully of dog.

“I’m not so sure I want to,” he said, wrinkling his nose.

“Oh, don’t be a baby. I’ll leave the door open.”

She did, and he sat on the old upholstered window seat, and she sat across from him on a rickety old chair. It was only after they’d taken their seats that he realized their positions mimicked those of a therapist and patient. Appropriate enough.

“You’re not bringing Hops back,” she said. “I refuse.”

He looked away, ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t take care of him anymore, Maisie. I had to quit the brewery. I found out…I found out Beau was going to leave it to me. He changed his mind, but he left a crazy clause in his will. If the brewery doesn’t place in the top five at Brewfest, it goes to me anyway. Georgie knew. We…we decided to give it a try. Being together, working together.” His voice took on a ragged edge he didn’t much like. “But she’s known for weeks, and she didn’t tell me.”

“I know,” she said, not that he was surprised. “You’ll be annoyed to hear that Finn called an emergency breakfast session with me and Dottie this morning.”

He let out an exhale that was somewhere between a sound of annoyance and a laugh. “Sounds more like something Aunt Dottie would do.”

“What can I say? I guess she’s rubbed off on all of us.” She held his gaze, something intense in her eyes. “River, Dottie’s pretty upset. Finn too. Neither of them think Georgie was playing you. In fact…” She cleared her throat. “Dottie says she’s positive Georgie’s in love with you.”

Something warm unfurled in him, but he shut it down quickly. “I didn’t think she was playing me…she’s not like that. It’s just…she didn’t trust me. I told her that I didn’t want us to start anything unless she was sure, and she still didn’t tell me.”

“Which is shitty,” Maisie said softly. “No one’s saying otherwise. But don’t you think she was maybe worried you’d react just like you’re reacting?” She paused, tilting her head a little, and then said words that drove a knife into him. “Do you think you’re the only one who’s afraid of being left?”

A feeling akin to horror passed over him. Was that how Georgie felt? Like he’d left her? Like he’d decided she wasn’t good enough? He thought again of those postcards. He’d looked at them after the drive back from Savannah, comparing them to one of his aunt’s grocery lists, and sure enough, they’d been in her writing.

“Why are you so sure that’s why she didn’t tell me?” he said through numb lips. “They needed me to help make the brewery competitive. Jack thought I would tank them if I knew about the will.”

“Yeah, Jack thought that,” she said. “But who the hell is Jack? You don’t know him, and from what Dottie said, Georgie doesn’t really know him either. Why should his opinion matter that much to you?” She looked away for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “Do you honestly think Georgie distrusted you?”

And that was the real question, wasn’t it?

“No,” he finally said. “No, I don’t. But this hurts like hell, and I hate that Beau put us into this mess. I…it makes me feel like I didn’t know him at all.”

She rose from her chair then, and came to sit beside him. “You knew him, River,” she said softly. “But he wasn’t a perfect man. He also wasn’t apsychicman. I don’t think he had the first idea you’d end up leaving Big Catch. If he’d thought you would end up taking a job at Buchanan, he never would have arranged things that way.”

She was right. Everything she’d said was right. And it penetrated the wall of hurt that had built up inside of him. Something long pent up let loose, and he felt tears course down his cheeks for the first time since Beau had died.

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