Page 58 of Buried Roots

My phone buzzes from a text, bringing me out of my reverie.

Dakota:I’m back. It went so well! And Bennett is so hot!

Oh, man. Dakota’s home. My stomach churns—so much has happened between Owen and me this week! I need to talk to her and tell her everything.

Me:Come have dinner with me tonight?

Dakota:YESSS. You can’t leave Violet Moon without stopping by The Malted Moon Brewery. And hello, it’s Saturday night!

Me:That’s where it’s at, eh?

Dakota:Yup. The brewery where everybody knows everything about everybody. LOL.

Me:That sounds great. See you there.

I hope she takes the news okay, which she should since things are going well with Bennett. Either way, Dakota is becoming a good friend, and I don’t want to lie to her, even if it’s by omission. I hope tonight can be a celebration for both of us. This morning, I hired Roy Livingston to help me access my adoption records, since now I now know I’m from Georgia. It’s taking all my willpower to sit still and let him do his job. He’s going to find out all he can about my biological parents and adoption.

After a quick makeup and hair job, I hop into my rental car dressed in jeans and a spaghetti-strapped silk tank. When I pull into the gravel parking lot of the Malted Moon Brewery, I can’t help but think the place has the small-town charm you only see in movies. Approaching, I smile at the sign suction-cupped to the window that reads, “Beer is the answer, but I can’t remember the question.”

In the entryway, there are faded paper ads stapled to old West style pillars, which I stop to read. “Your Other Mother. If you drink, Stella drives.”

“Thank god for Stella.” It’s Dakota’s voice behind me, and I turn. She’s smiling brightly when she says, “She’s saved my butt a time or two.”

“Hey there!” I give her a hug. “Welcome back.”

“Glad to be back.”

We step to the doorway where the hum of chatter and music wafts through. Inside, the place is packed. “You weren’t joking—half the town must be here.”

“Yup.”

We take a seat at the wooden bar that opens to the back patio, which is something you never see in New York. The weather doesn’t allow for a missing wall.

After Dakota orders us hamburgers and blueberry lagers, as she promises they’re the best thing on the menu, I say, “So, what happened with Bennett?”

She groans. “Nothing, unfortunately.”

“What? Why?”

Sissy brings us our beers, and I ask, “I thought you worked at the tattoo shop?”

“I do.” She leans on the counter. “I work here too. And I do hours at MoonMart for the holidays. Cash is tight.”

“I understand that.”

Sissy shifts down the bar to Jeb, giving him a kiss before saying, “Anyway, remember that worm you put on Ernie’s electric fence?”

Jeb’s full-bodied laugh roars over the noisy bar. “That damn thing threw smoke like a rubber tire. It was so foul, I thought you were gonna toss your cookies.”

“I almost did.” She laughs so hard, she’s in tears.

These two are really cute—I didn’t realize they were together.

I take a sip of the delicious malt beer with a hint of hops and berry and turn back to Dakota. “So, about Bennett.”

“Ugh. I don’t know, Willow. Everything was great. But I kinda went wiggy.” She takes a long drag from her beer.

“Why?”

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