Page 230 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
“It’s a betrayal deeper than any gunshot wound.”
His story sounds too close to the life we’ve lived, like a Wilde and a Fox. My eyes find Jade. She sees it too—the truth behind our past.
Bronx leans forward, voice low and steady. “One night, word got out the feds were comin’ to bust the whole thing.”
He presses another marshmallow between two more marshmallows, squishing it just right so it oozes out the edges a little.
He holds one out to Josie. “You want one or not?”
She takes it.
He grins while passing Celi the second. Then he snaps another graham cracker in half and starts the s’mores process again.
“Etta begged Jed to run with her. To leave it all behind. But duty”—he snaps apart two pieces of the chocolate bar—“duty’s a chain you can’t break.”
He pokes the fire bed with the poker stick, mixing the coals.
“So Jed Buckley stayed. But Etta Kilner? She slipped away, takin’ all those secrets and that firewater with her.”
At the mention of a Buckley and a Kilner, everyone goes wild, talking over one another.
“That’s a load of crap.” Dean shakes his head as the rest of the group exchanges incredulous looks.
“You really expect us to believe a Buckley dated a Kilner?” Hannah’s voice is half-amused and half-doubtful.
“I’m telling you, it happened.” The objections drown out Bronx’s voice. “This is a story we share around the fireplace at Christmas,” he rumbles.
“There’s no way that’s a true story,” Josie says. “It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
Bronx continues cooking his marshmallows. “Don’t kill the messenger.”
But all I can think is that my brothers and I are not the first Wildes to love a Fox, so how far-fetched is it for a Buckley to fall head over heels for a Kilner?
“Some say she’s still hidin’ ‘round these hills.” Bronx lifts a s’more to his mouth. “If you listen close, you might hear the jar of firewater rattlin’ in the wind.”
His eyes light up as he takes the first bite, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. But I’ll bet it’s more to do with the reaction of everyone.
“Bullshit.”
“Worst story ever.”
“Next.”
“Hell no. I ain’t finished,” Bronx roars. “Now”—his tone is low again—“Jed and Etta were tied together by a love that broke every law. And sometimes, on nights like this, you can still feel their story whisperin’ through the trees.”
“Shut up.” Wyatt tosses an empty bag of chips at him.
He catches it. Sticky marshmallow strands cling to Bronx’s fingers from the bag.
“I reckon some loves are worth breakin’ every rule for. Even if it means losin’ it all.”
Did Bronx just look at me?
“He’s sappy too,” Josie mutters. “Whose pants are you trying to get into?”
“I don’t discuss such topics with a kid.”
“I am not a kid.” She kicks him again, and he chokes on the mouthful. “My turn.”
