Page 6 of Home Sweet Home

“Come on. It’ll be fun. Help get your mind off whatever’s bringing you down.”

Evie’s idea of fun had never been the local bar, and the thought of spending money she didn’t have splurging on beers and jalapeño poppers made her want to vomit prematurely. If the alternative was sitting alone in her kitchen with her thoughts and a mountain of bills with no way of paying them, though…

“Sure,” Evie said.

The sheer glee that lit up Kayla’s face was almost enough to make Evie happy she’d agreed.

* * *

At Mel’s,a group of men at a back table gathering around the blaring TV erupted into cheers. Even if someone showed her a slow-motion playback of what had just happened in the game, Evie couldn’t have guessed what had gotten them so excited.

Kayla slid onto a stool at the bar. “Only thing this town worships more than baseball is actual Jesus. Don’t know what’s so fucking great about dudes running around in tight pants.” She shut her mouth then opened it again to say, “Actually, I think I get it now.”

“Your hair looks nice,” Evie said.

Kayla turned her head to show off the low bun at the nape of her neck, with braids running up the sides and a few light-pink tendrils framing her face. A month ago, they had been lavender, but Kayla got bored easily, and her hair had been every color of the rainbow at some point. “Wish you’d let me color yours. You could def pull off seafoam green.”

“Mine’s too dark,” Evie said, tucking a loose strand of auburn hair behind her ear. A messy bun was her default style, not because she thought it looked particularly good on her but because she could do it in ten seconds—and she didn’t know how to do anything else. Kayla, with uncharacteristic patience, had tried at least a dozen times to teach Evie to braid, but under her clumsy fingers, they always came out lumpy, misshapen messes, with strands poking out like porcupine quills.

Kayla shook her head. “No such thing. That’s why on the fourth day, after air and water and all that other crap, God invented bleach.”

“What can I get you ladies?” Wayne asked, leaning on the bar, his rolled-up sleeves exposing thick, hairy forearms. Wayne was a year older than Evie, and all she knew about him was that he’d gotten married right after high school, popped out two kids, and gotten a divorce all within the span of three years. Back in high school, she’d thought he was cute with his Metallica T-shirts and long, shaggy dark hair. He still wore the same T-shirts, stretched tight over his beer belly, and kept his hair long, but it was usually greasy from the fryers.

“Miller Lite please,” Kayla said. “She’ll have the same. And two burgers.”

Wayne tapped the bar with his hands. “Coming right up.”

“Maybe I wanted something else,” Evie said as Wayne walked away.

Kayla rolled her eyes. “I could order for you in my sleep. You literally always get the same thing.”

“Excuse me,” a voice said. A man stood next to Evie. He was tall, with short dark hair and wore a Devils jersey. A glance toward the back corner of the bar told her he must have been one of the guys watching the game, because the rest of the group had turned their attention from the game and focused on their friend, hiding snickers behind their hands like fifteen-year-olds. “Can I buy you ladies a drink?”

He obviously wasn’t from Creek Water. It was the kind of town people passed through, not the kind they came to. The mile-long stretch of houses was sprinkled with businesses and surrounded by dozens of miles of cornfields in every direction. Sometimes travelers stopped on their way to Chicago or Indianapolis, usually because they were running out of gas and had no other option, but seeing someone new at Mel’s was rare.

Evie opened her mouth to decline, but before she could, Kayla said, “Sure can. This is Evie, by the way.”

Evie’s cheeks burned, and she resisted the urge to stomp on Kayla’s toes, which were exposed in her lime-green flip-flops.

“Hi, Evie.” The man held out his palm, his blue eyes fixed on her. “I’m Travis.”

“Hi.” Evie stared at his hand for a beat too long before shaking it. A familiar discomfort burrowed into her stomach like a tiny seed being planted.

Travis scooted onto the stool next to Evie. “What are you drinking?”

“We actually already—” Evie started.

“Cabernet,” Kayla interrupted with a smile before turning toward the kitchen and waving her hands through the air like an air traffic controller. “Wayne!”

“Two cabernets for the ladies,” Travis said when Wayne came up to them. Wayne nodded, and Travis shifted, turning his body so his knees were just inches away from Evie’s. “You from around here?”

“Yep.” Evie nodded, watching as Wayne poured the drinks. She felt the slightest bit of pressure on her right ribs as Kayla’s elbow jabbed into her. “Ow. What brings you here?”

“We’re on our way to Chicago to see the Cubs. Thought we’d stop in for the Devils game. Isn’t Hawthorne from here too?”

It was the second time she’d heard West’s name in a day. Once was already too much. Evie opened her mouth, but then Wayne plopped down square white napkins, two very full glasses of Cabernet, and two bottles of Miller onto the bar.

“Sure you can handle two of those, Martinez?” Wayne asked with a smirk, leaning on the bar, the wood warped from years of Bud Light after Bud Light sweating and spilling all over it.

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