Page 31 of Buried Roots

I take a swig of the shot, and the cinnamon bursts in my mouth along with the burn of the whiskey. After I bark out a cough, I say, “This is quite a combo.” I squeeze my eyes shut as I exhale, feeling like a cinnamon-and-fire-blowing dragon.

“You gonna live?” He gives me a gentle pat.

“Barely.” I open my eyes to see Owen sitting there, patiently, like he’s waiting for me to finish. So, I say, “I think I got so used to living alone, I forgot what it was like to have family around.” I pluck a blade of grass before tossing it. “Here I am, rambling on about me. What about you?”

He looks down, his voice quiet when he says, “I feel like I’ve had it easy compared to you.”

“It’s not a competition.”

He nods slowly, staring into the distance. “My dad died ten years ago, when I was sixteen, too. Strange coincidence.”

“I’m so sorry, Owen.”

“Yeah. But I had my mom and younger sisters, and they’re all amazing—‘tough as boiled owl,’ as my Nana Lottie would say.”

“I noticed.”

“But Ma was left with her hands full. Trinity was a newborn, so I had to step in. I did my best to help my sisters, packed their lunches, picked them up from school, braided their hair, not well, I might add. I felt like I could never do enough. I actually considered delaying college, but Ma wouldn’t let me.” When he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobs. “So, I stayed close by and went to UC Georgia—go Dawgs. By the time I graduated from vet school, everyone was grown and didn’t need my help anymore. And that includes Trinity, who was eight.” He chuckles. “Anyway, I just… I had to get away. I moved to Atlanta and joined a vet practice there. But I don’t know if my leaving was just about that. I didn’t want to be one of those people who never ventured from their small town.”

“Makes sense.”

He cracks a grin, his eyes brightening. “But, man, do I love my girls. Bailey’s all about her friends and getting dolled up. Kayla and Trinity, they’re like Ma. Tough on the outside, soft on the inside. Kayla’s always been the strongest. When she came out as a freshman in high school, she didn’t care what people thought. She is who she is, and she makes no apologies. She was my hero then. Still is. Her fiancée, Margaret, is great, too.”

“How does the town feel about her wedding this weekend?”

“Most people are supportive and excited. Mary Louise isnotone of those people, which is just as well. Kayla doesn’t want her there.”

“Mary Louise.” I groan. “Good riddance. I’m happy Kayla’s got so much support.”

“Oh, speaking of that.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fancy postcard-sized parchment paper. “Kayla wanted me to give this to you. She knows you two haven’t met, but you helped save Oreo, and now, Trinity, too.”

I take it to see that it’s a wedding reception invitation for Kayla and Margaret on Saturday night. “I’m honored.”

“Good. Happy you’ll be there. Happy I’ll be there. Happy to be back.”

“I can see why.” I inhale. “It’s gorgeous here, with history and beautiful architecture. Man, what I could do to some of the downtown buildings. Fresh paint and awnings. New windows and signage. Being here has been healing, in a way.”

“And why is that?”

“I feel at peace, beyond the moment. If that makes sense?”

“It does.” He turns and meets my gaze, his dark piercing eyes heating my skin as if he’s staring into my soul. “It’s like you belong here. And I can’t really explain that, either.”

His words kick up my pulse as I point down the hill. “The lake is literally shimmering in the moonlight. I mean, no joke, this place is storybook.”

“The lake’s also a great spot for a swim. Especially in July—the water’s perfect.” Owen downs his shot, then shakes his head like a dog.

“So, what are we waiting for?” I can’t believe I just said that. WhoamI right now? But my body is thrumming and making me feel wild.

In New York, I’m the responsible boss. Since I was sixteen, I had to project maturity and strength everywhere I went, just to land jobs and pay the bills. I was never like this with my ex, Seth. But here, at this moment, I’m none of those things.

“What?” Owen’s voice hitches. “We can go tomorrow—when there’s sunlight.”

I stand, ready to escape this heavy conversation for now. “We don’t need sunlight with this amazing moon.”

“You’re serious.”

“It’s the Fourth. We’re doing this.” I whip off my shirt, glad I’m wearing my prettiest black lace bra.

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