Page 22 of Bourbon and Proof

He’s not wrong.

He reaches into his back pocket and fishes out a picture. I know it’s Shelby Calloway right away. I knew her first as one of the top trainers for Finch & King. My father was never shy about telling people how she could train the hell out of horses. But I got to know her when she became an unexpected person in Griz’s life. Faye’s mom started coming for family dinners about a year or so after Faye left town. I remember Griz and Shelby sitting out on this porch, laughing together. It always made mesmile, seeing him with her. He deserves to find someone like that again. She passed away unexpectedly a few years before Faye came back to Fiasco. I know how it feels to miss someone. It’s something that all of us have in common.

“Is that Shelby?” I ask anyway.

He nods, handing me the photo. “Some people just hit different—for no reason other than that.” Resting his chin on his fist, he says, “Shelby had been in a bad place for a long while before she looked my way, but once she did”—he makes an explosion sound—“that was it. Made me feel more like myself than any other person on this planet. And that’s saying something.” He clears his throat, taking the picture back from me and returning it to his pocket. “You remember Ace’s nana?”

I nod, vaguely remembering her and the way she always had cinnamon buns baking.

“She was a wonderful woman,” he says. “Miss her too. But I don’t think we’re meant to just love once. It’s too good not to feel it as many times as we can.” He glances at me with a pointed look. “Stop being an idiot.”

I raise my eyebrows as a laugh bubbles from my chest.

“The both of you,” he says, shaking his head like I’ve been truly reprimanded.

I let the conversation settle. It’s been a long time since I spent a morning with Griz and just let him talk. I think a lot of people see the easy smile and older charm, but forget that he’s been the heart of more than the Foxx family. He keeps a pulse on Fiasco, much like Ace does.

“You know the one thing nobody ever tells you about getting older?” Griz asks, just as I sip the extra cup he had out here for me. “The copious amounts of bird watching.”

I smile as he gets up and leans against the porch banister, grabbing a pair of binoculars perched there. “You sure it’s bird watching, or are you spying?”

He laughs at that, but his thick mustache barely moves. “Here, take a look,” he says, holding them out to me.

“Alright, what am I looking at?”

I look out to the large white building with a prominent Foxx logo painted along its side in black—opposite colors than the rickhouses that line the expansive property. Those are all black, from roof to foundation, with a simple white logo that shows off it’s theirs. The black is meant to absorb as much heat from the sun as possible. Griz said it’s just a little part of their secret sauce, letting the natural elements of Kentucky shape the way their bourbon’s made.

“The oak tree. To your left, just before the path down to Grant and Laney’s place.”

I move the lens around according to his direction.

“There’s a nest of these tiny little things—loud when they’re awake, but it sounds sweet. I’ve never minded loud. Preferred most things that way—music, women, life, you name it.”

I smile, because it’s such a Griz thing to say.

“There’s one that’s always bringing something back to the nest. At first glance, it looks like there’s just one. But every day, I watch, and I see the other one stop in, check up on the other, and then fly off. I bet she doesn’t even know it—how much that one pays attention to her, stops in, making sure she’s okay.”

I lower the binoculars and look down at the leather strap. It’s pretty obvious he isn’t talking about the empty nest in that tree anymore.

“You’re pushy by nature, Griswald Foxx. But why so much today?”

He leans against the porch pillar and looks out at his expansive land. I take in the way the years have chipped at some of his stature. He’s still strong and solid, but slower in his movements now. The bit of dark hair that lingered in hiseyebrows and peppered his hairline when I first met him is long gone. He’s all white and silver now.

“I want my family set. I need you to be okay.” He swallows whatever else he was going to say and instead clears his throat. “I’m just trying to add fuel to the gossip I started. I heard about you disappearing in a dark hallway with Atticus.”

Smacking his arm playfully, my head shakes as sarcasm laces my words. “Those damn gossips.”

“You hungry, Finch?” Griz nudges my elbow. “I’m hungry as hell. You’re drivin’.”

Fiasco mornings aren’ttypical for me. Midnight Proof isn’t cleaned up and cleared out until at least 3:00 a.m., which means I’m sleeping the moment my head hits the pillow. Lately, it’s been earlier than that. Business stopped booming when Fiasco made headlines. A night off wasn’t going to hurt much, and Lincoln and Faye getting married was a great reason to close the speakeasy and enjoy myself. It feels like forever since I’ve had a night or day off from everything.

“As I live and breathe, Hadley Finch gracing us with her presence, all before noon,” Romey says from the end of the counter.

“Knock it off,” Marla clips back at her, giving me a tight-lipped smile as she nods to the last open seat.

A few heads turn to follow me, and it’s not hard to hear the less-than-quiet whispers as Griz and I make our way through the place. Hooch’s isn’t pretty, but Marla makes great food, and I need caffeine and something greasy to ease the hangover.

“You look rough today,” Marla says as she pours us cups of coffee once we’re seated. “You were a helluva best man at thatweddin’, though.” She smiles, looking down as I take out my black journal, phone, and a pen from my bag. There are plenty of days I spend scribbling away at this counter.

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