Page 19 of Golden Hour

“Yes, a lot.”

I point to Olive. “No more raccoons, Olive Jean. Promise?”

“Yes, Uncle Jackson.”

We hobble to the side door, where my family parks their cars. I unlock my truck with the key fob and open the car door, holding her up while I do. She can’t put any weight at all on her leg. Her hand sits on my shoulder as I hoist her into the truck.

I shake my hands as I walk to my side. Her waist is small but soft, and it felt great in my hands. My fingers still tingle from the contact.

When I start the car, Shiloh leans her head back on the headrest. “God, I hate raccoons.”

“Really?” I ask. I’m stunned that she doesn’t love all woodland creatures.

“I didn’t like them before, but I really don’t like them now.”

This is the first time I’ve heard her say one negative thing. Everything is usually unicorns and rainbows with Shiloh. It’s like I’m finally seeing the real her.

“You give off ‘Snow White with all the critters’ vibes. Especially with the brewery dogs.”

“I do not feel the same about all God’s creatures. Especially raccoons. And snakes.”

“I understand the snake thing.” I turn out of the brewery, and drum my fingers against the steering wheel. “I don’t get why my niece is so fascinated with raccoons. Just because Thelma and Louise did one decent thing for Cameron and Annie does not speak for all raccoons.”

Shiloh chuckles as she shifts in her seat. “They’re so mean. I don’t mind if they need to tip a trash can to eat, but they attacked my dog once so I’ve always been judgmental toward them.”

“And that’s why you were fighting one tonight?”

“Yes. I threw toilet paper rolls at it. I stunned it.”

A laugh leaves my chest. “I feel like we should make you employee of the month.”

“Not so fast. I think the racoon touched the grain. You might need to order some more.”

I groan. Another tally for the raccoon loss line item. Trying to reconcile the prior raccoon grain incident was a nightmare for two days.

“I really wish I could’ve been a fly on the wall to see that,” I say. Watching Shiloh fight off a raccoon would’ve made my whole year. Not much excites me nowadays, but the image of Shiloh pelting a raccoon with toilet paper rolls brings me joy.

“Are you smiling? Because I got attacked by a raccoon?” Her face is stone and unamused.

“It’s an amusing image,” I say, with a laugh. Shiloh’s face is slack, and then she bursts into laughter and throws her head back. We laugh in unison, and then she quiets, turning her head. Her braid became loose with the attack and blond hairs stick out from the coils. I wonder what her hair looks like down.

“It was a disaster.” She covers her eyes. “But we got the raccoon out and I didn’t faint.”

“There’s a bright side to everything, I guess.”

“I believe that with my whole heart.” She grows quiet as we drive.“Why are you driving me, Jackson?”

“My mom asked me to.”

“You could’ve said no.”

One more block until Goldheart’s only twenty-four-hour urgent care. It glows against the starless sky. I could respond with snark, but I just drive. Didn’t feel right to fire back at her.

Shiloh looks back to the road. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have decorated your office. That was too much.”

I press my lips together and say, “It’s fine. I overreacted.”

“I know you hate me.” Her voice is a soft whisper.

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