“In fact, I like you. I think we should be friends.”
“Really?” His gaze narrowed. “Are you just saying that because I cried? Because that’s gross.”
“No!” I thought about it and admitted, “Okay, maybe a little. But only because it made me realize I was being a jerk. And you’re wrong, you know. I don’t know a soul in town who doesn’t like you. I don’t know why you say they don’t talktoyou, ’cause I can’t get ’em to fucking shut upaboutyou. But that’s neither here nor there. The point is, I was unfair to you. For reasons.”
“What reasons?”
“Well.” I scrunched up my face. The reasons existed. I knew they did. Somewhere at the periphery of my brain. But damned if I could catch the slippery fuckers. “You make my stomach feel—” I made a vague motion to my abdomen.
“Nauseated?” Luke asked, wide-eyed. “Oh my God, is it my cologne? Wait, I don’t wear cologne. Is itme?”
“—and you’re a damn ice cream fiend.”
He blinked. “Oh. Well, no, that’s true,” he admitted sorrowfully. “And that’s… a deal breaker?”
I spread my hands. “I promise, it sounded more convincing in my brain.”
“Ah.” Luke nodded. “Happens to me all the time.”
“So… friends?” I said again.
“Heck yeah! See, good things happen all the time, even when you least expect them!”
Luke’s eyes, already glassy from the alcohol, almostglowedwith excitement, and I had to look away. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had looked so happy with me for so little effort.
“I still don’t want anything to do with your sheep, though,” I muttered. “Especially if it involves me carrying them over my shoulders.” My back twinged just thinking about it.
“No, no,” he agreed quickly. “Promise. The ladies keep to themselves anyway. But you and I can be… neighbor friends. And maybe Drew can make me pie again.” Luke hesitated. “So do we, like, shake hands now? Because it feels like we need to commemorate this? Or maybe?—”
The most random idea occurred to me, and I burst out laughing at how perfect it was. Not only the perfect way to commemorate a new friendship, butalso the perfect way to let the town know—if they really didn’t know already—that Luke Williams was a good, friendship-worthy guy.
“Okay… okay… so Van was telling me this story earlier—Shhhhh.Shhhhh,” I insisted, even thoughIwas the one who kept interrupting myself with bouts of drunken giggles. “Did you ever hear the story of the Unity Bugle?”
Luke shook his head, looking mystified and intrigued.
“So, that bugle on the plaque by the door is the Unity Bugle.” I pointed. “It’s how the bar got its name. And according to Van, it’s like… there was a pretty girl? And sheep, which is fitting. And… other things. A father, maybe? But then there was a preacher who came and brought goodwill. And… I’m honestly not sure how the bugle came into play, but then the spirit of friendship livesinsidethe bugle to this very day, and they lived happily ever after just like in a fairy tale.”
“Just like in a…” Luke’s eyes flashed like this meant something to him. “Wait, who lived happily ever after?”
“Uh.” I frowned. “Unclear. The whole town, maybe? Or the pretty girl. Either way,friendship. Unity.”
“Right! Yeah! Okay! Awesome! So…” Luke paused, and his face crumpled. “Wait, no, I don’t understand at all. What do we do?”
“We blow the bugle on the town common,” I explained patiently. “To show that we forgive each other, and we have unity now.”
“Awwww. We have unity now.” Luke pressed his hands to his cheeks. “We sure do!”
I pushed out of the booth and reached out a hand to help him out, and then the two of us ran for the entrance like we were Aiden’s age. The place had mostly cleared out now that the game was over, and there were only a few folks sitting at the bar chatting with Van.
Luke and I got our jackets off the hooks.
“Is that the bugle?” he whispered, pointing to the plaque. “It looks old.”
I looked at it—really looked—for the first time in years. Itdidlook old, and the year 1767 etched below it confirmed this. It occurred to me that maybe, possibly Van wasn’t going to want a couple of drunk guys to take the precious bugle out into the night, even if we had the best possible intentions.
“Where ya goin’?” Van demanded. “Thought Knox was taking you both home after the meeting. It ain’t over yet.”
It wasn’t? Jesus. I was doubly glad I hadn’t gone.
