Page 95 of Bourbon and Lies

“Not yet. I need to get her somewhere safe.”

Lincoln holds up his hand. “Wait. You’re telling me they let this guy go?”

“I’m telling you that I don’t know. The hearing has been removed from the court schedule, and I can’t seem to get anyone in the Attorney General’s office to give me a straight answer. I’m not able to find a John Doe in holding or recently transferred either.”

“Jesus Christ,” Lincoln says, running his fingers through his hair.

Grant watches Bea with the same stoic glare as Ace, and I feel like I haven’t taken a breath in minutes.

“I plan to keep my promises to you.” She looks back at Grant and me. “It’s going to be a little more complicated with the two of you now.”

“And a dog,” Grant says.

She shakes her head. “No.”

I shrug, finally speaking up in all this. “Non-negotiable.”

Chapter 41

Grant

We have two days.Forty-eight hours until I’ll leave Fiasco for good. Even when I hated it here—when too many people looked at me like a charity case, or I was the topic of some bullshit rumor, it was still home. I never had any dreams about growing old here, but I think I assumed I’d end up like Griz. Surviving on bourbon and lies. Living on the few constants that we had: time and the punishingly slow and quick way it moved forward. And the gut-wrenching reminders that nothing or no one lasted forever.

My assumptions turned out to be wrong. An awakening of sorts that made me recognize home as something completely different from what I had grown up believing. That it wasn’t necessarily a place, but a person. My family would always be my family, and I’d miss them every day, but when I looked at Laney, I saw a life and a family I hadn’t allowed myself to picture before. It was a helluva sight.

I rest my hand on the hot silver handle, knowing that this will be the last time I set foot in here. It’ll be the last prime rib dinner with a friend whom I owe a long overdue conversation.

The bell above the door rings out, and the smell of grilled meat and the briny tang from old oak panels bathe the walls of Hooch’s. There are plenty of restaurants in the county, but this place has always been the constant. I’m going to miss it.Miss them.

Marla shouts from behind the front counter bar, “You want the prime rib or the burger tonight, Grant?”

She throws her towel over her shoulder and squares off like I’m late to order, even though I just walked in. Her eyebrows raise at me because the only certainty about Marla is that she has no patience for much. Especially waiting.

“I’ll have what he’s having.” I nod to Del at the far end of the counter.

He takes a sip of his coffee. “She’s doing spoonbread with the prime rib tonight.”

I smile at my friend. “Ambrosia?”

“Marla, tell me you made ambrosia,” he shouts to her.

She yells from the kitchen, “Is a frog’s asshole watertight?”

Jesus.I look around the restaurant and there’s only a handful of us in here, but it’s late on a Thursday night and most of the family dinner crowd are home putting their kids to bed. The air conditioning is cranking away after the heat from today.

The dead center of August in Kentucky can keep your skin slicked with sweat if you stay outside. Even without the sun out right now, it was balmy. Good for bourbon, rough for the rest of us.

“I’m going to guess that’s a yes.”

He glances at me. “Is the reason you’re looking all sort of nervous because you want to tell me that you’re in love with that girl?”

The muscles in my cheek twitch and the back of my neck heats up. There’s a lot of history between us. A lot of love too, but we keep it high-level. It's always been that way, even before Fiona. “That has something to do with it.” I clear my throat.

“Any chance the clove-smoking viper is the other reason?” Bea and Del’s history was one of the only relationships that hadn’t been gossiped about here. But I know that after Bea left, Del never dated. He never offered details, and I never asked.

“It does,” I say as Marla comes back to refill his coffee and pour a fresh one for me. “Thanks, Marla.”

“Food’ll be out in a bit,” she says, rushing off to the booths with a pitcher of water.

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