Page 91 of Bourbon and Proof

Strutt’s Peak, Colorado, is in many ways the complete opposite of Fiasco, Kentucky. I look out the front of the shop and take in all its details. Picturesque mountains and a brisk chill that rolls off the snowcaps in the distance. When we walked here, it wasn’t the kind of temps we have in early summer back home, but in other ways, it feels so much like our small town. The quintessential town center with shops intended for tourists woven in with familiar hangouts for locals. There’s something special about small towns.

“No way,” I say under my breath when I peer out toward the town green. “Please tell me they’re setting up a movie night.”

Giselle smiles as she looks out the front windows, and then focuses her attention back on Ace’s tattoo. “From the first week of June until the end of the summer, Riggs Outdoor hosts a movie night on our green every week. You’re here in time for the first of the season,” she says.

“Any idea what they’re playing?”

“It’s always something from the 80s or 90s. Last week it wasField of Dreams—tonight it’s another cult classic namedRomancing the Stone,” she says, wrapping Ace’s tattoo, and then tossing her gloves in the trash. “Alright, I think this is incredibly romantic. I can’t wait to tell my husband.” She smiles. “And Hadley, I might take you up on a visit. Midnight Proof sounds right up my alley.”

Not even an hour later, and after a little more window shopping, I’m watching from one of the open benches along the sides of the town green as Ace carries back a tray of tacos in one hand and two horchatas in the other. The smile on his face as he looks around the now crowded space is one of contentment. I’ve been slowly falling for Ace for most of my adult life. I’ve fantasized about the man, obsessed over the bourbon boy, challenged the arrogant businessman, only to find myself exactly where I always wanted to be: deeply in love with my husband.

It feels like a moment to remember, so I slide my phone out of my bag and take two pictures: one of him staring out at the movie that just started and another of him smiling at me when he looks back and realizes what I’m doing. I can’t help but smile back and all I can do is think,that man is mine.

And because I’m curious, I stupidly swipe off Do Not Disturb for the first time during this trip. My phone buzzes wildly just as I’m about to set it back down. I just wanted to be sure things at Midnight Proof are running smoothly. Laney and Faye took thelead and said if there were any problems, they’d handle it. And that must be the case, because there aren’t any messages from either of them. Instead, there are twelve voicemails, all from different phone numbers. A few text messages from Lincoln. And there’s a flagged email, which means it’s from my father’s attorney.

Miss Finch,

As you know, we have represented your father with the understanding that payment for services would come from the Finch & King estate once the trial had been completed. At the time of his arrest, the estate had been valued at more than $200 million. However, I have been informed that payment via the estate is no longer viable. We regret to inform you that we will be stepping aside as his legal representation. He will be offered a state-mandated, court-appointed attorney in time for his trial that is now set for later this month. We will no longer handle any legal matters or negotiations on his behalf as of today.

“What is it?” Ace asks, noticing the change in my demeanor as I sit taller, reading through it again.

“Looks like my father will find out soon that he’s been royally fucked over.” I swallow down the nerves of what all of this means. It’s what I wanted; the money that had been so carelessly left in my control is now invested in Fiasco business owners. I should be feeling ready and relieved that the choices I’ve made are finally making an impact, but instead, an uneasy feeling shifts over me.

When I hold the phone up to listen to the first voicemail, my stomach turns when I hear my father, and my eyes shoot to Ace’s. My father’s tone is laced with anger as he spouts his version of venom: promised threats. “Do not think your actions here will go unanswered, pumpkin. You want to hit me whereit hurts? Your new husband making you feel like you have a stronger backbone than you really do, is my guess.” He tuts. “Be prepared to feel what it’s like to cross me. If I’ve taught you anything, you should remember that betrayal deserves punishment.”

I toss my phone next to me, hating that his words make my eyes water. Scratching along my wrist, I try to pull myself together and think about my journal of good things:June is iced coffees waiting for me, a new Boston jersey...and now I can add tattoos and a real proposal.

“He’s backed into a corner,” Ace interrupts, framing his hands along my face and trying to pull my attention back to the present. “You’re safe. Do you hear me, Hadley? He’s not going to hurt you.”

I want to be strong and pretend like my father’s promise doesn’t shake me. I want to lean on my husband and know that he won’t let anything bad happen. I’m exactly where I should be and can’t let anything ruin it. I want to stand tall and calm, knowing that money went to fix the things that he helped break. But I also know my father, better than most. And his threats are never veiled. He meant what he said: he’s going to try to find a way to hurt me.

I want all of this good to linger, to keep breathing easy, and settle into being this strong and capable woman Ace so adamantly believes I am, but in my gut, I know, if there’s a way, my father will ruin it. He’ll tear it down, find my weaknesses, just to get what he wants. And what he wants now is more than just money or freedom. It’s to hurt me.

“Look at me, Hadley,” Ace says, his tone soft as he rubs into my shoulders to soothe me. “Breathe for me, sugar. You are okay,” he says slowly. My chest heaves as I start to slow my breathing, matching his measured breaths. I hadn’t evenrealized I was gasping for air. “I will not let anything happen to you. Do you hear me?”

It takes a moment to really hear what he’s saying. I nod, listening to the steadiness of his voice. Tears that were brimming finally fall as I say, “I’m happy, actually. Stupidly happy.”

“Yeah, you are,” he says quietly, the right side of his lip tipping up into an easy smile. “That’s it, just breathe.” He blows out a breath in time with mine. “That won’t be how things end, you hear me?”

“He ruins things. That’s who he is, Ace.”

“Maybe so. But this is our life, yours and mine. Not his. Not anymore,” he says as he wipes away the tears from my cheeks, pressing a kiss to my forehead. And the only thing I can think as he breathes with me, calming this tailspin, is,Goddesses, I hope he’s right.

Chapter 37

Hadley

July: Being cliché as fuck and getting matching tattoos with my husband.

I love it so much.

When it comes to the Fourth of July in Fiasco, the Independence Day festivities are more than just barbecues and sparklers. We have vendors out the ass, from kettle corn and yards of slushies to the best burgoo and just about fried everything. It’s always an illustration of my small town at its best. The weekend hosts the largest craft fair in the county, while the evenings mean good music, warm beer, great bourbon, and lots of dancing. This year will be the first time that I can dance with the one person I’ve always wanted. Even if it’s still begrudgingly.

“Leave your brother alone and come dance with me,” I shouted after him.

He stopped in his tracks and turned slowly, like I had no business telling him what to do. And for the record, I didn’t. But that never stopped me from trying. “Don’t look at me like a dance is the craziest thing in the world, Atticus Foxx.” I smiled, just to taunt him.

But his blue eyes pinned me in place and practically made me whimper when they drifted down the front of my top and kept roaming down past my short skirt and cowgirl boots.

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