Page 84 of Sinners Reunion

“McGriddles,” Jim and I say in unison.

“Christ on a cracker,” King mutters under his breath. He turns to glare out the tinted window, unwilling to observe a second more of our tomfoolery.

Regardless, we push on to the store, purchase what we’ve been instructed to purchase, and then head back to camp without any delicious breakfast sandwiches.

I did, however, score ingredients for s’mores. I figure me and the girls can eat them while we chat over a campfire. I still plan to run my logic by them and see if the whole kissing rule is stupid.

If the girls think I’m being irrational, this belief I’ve held since my teenage years will dissolve. That just might break me. I’ve held on to it for so long. It’s been my lifeline, my bridge to sanity. The only thing that wasn’t borrowed without permission.

The last thing that’s still mine to give away.

If they meet me with anything less than understanding or support, I’ll be both grateful for their honesty and gutted by it.

But I’m trying not to think about that right now. That’s a problem for later Josie.

We pull into the campground, which is a wide-open stretch of America beneath the bluest sky I’ve ever seen. Despite the state taking up a large swath of the country, I don’t get down here often. Plus, Texans love their guns, as I stated. I tend to pick targets I think I can take, and me against a bullet will never end well. Just ask fucking Blayne.

He’s been keeping a low profile ever since he shot me, but he’s throwing a football with Ice Pick as we pull up to the trailer hitched to the back of Chef’s bus. We climb out so that Gary can secure the car, but I keep glancing at the two of them. Something looks off about Ice Pick.

At this distance, it’s hard to tell, but his face looks puffier than usual. Almost as if he’s been crying. That twists my heart until I can’t keep silent. I grab King’s hand and pull him aside as Jim and Gary get to work on the groceries.

I jerk my chin toward the two men tossing the football. “Does Ice Pick look like he’s been crying?”

King squints, and I roll my eyes.

“I forgot. If I can’t see, how the fuck do I expect your geriatric ass to see?” I grab his hand and start toward the men. “We’ll just have to go over there.”

His heels dig into the earth, and I jerk to a stop. I try to pull him again, but he’s immovable.

“And if he’s been crying, then what?” he whispers. His eyebrows rise in that knowing look he has, and I realize he’s right.

I shrug and raise my hands. “I don’t know, but something is weighing heavy on his heart, and for some weird reason, it’s making me feel sick. It’s like watching your dog get ignored by all the other dogs at the dog park.”

“I get your point,” he says. “I just don’t know how we broach the topic without hurting the bloke’s pride.”

I bite my thumbnail and think. “I was gonna invite the girls to a bonfire tonight, but I guess that can wait. Let’s invite him to our RV for drinks. We can DoorDash some wine or something.”

“Better make it beer,” King says as he glares at Blayne. “And when you invite him, make sure Redneck Romeo isn’t anywhere nearby. I have a feeling he’s part of the problem.”

My stomach sinks, because I think he’s right.

Blayne didn’t give me any red flags when we first met, but that was probably because I was looking at him through pussy-colored glasses. Now I’m using my eyes, and I don’t like what I’m starting to see.

When he thinks no one is watching, he stops smiling. The cool demeanor drops, and his eyes take on a ferretlike quality. Wheels are turning, but the moment he makes eye contact with another person, the smoke and mirrors rise. He’s charming in all the wrong ways.

“He isn’t like us,” I whisper.

“No, my beauty. He is not.”

“He’s more like the Bundys or the Albert Fishs. He belongs with the Cattle, not with us.”

“I’m glad you’ve finally cottoned on.” King wraps his arm around my shoulder. “Are you sure you’re up for this? There’s no telling what sort of state poor Ice Pick will be in, and there’s every chance he demands Blayne come too.”

I shake my head. “No, I’ve got this. You distract Blayne and leave Ice Pick to me.”

King gives my ass a pat before heading toward the two men. I hang back and adjust my cleavage, pushing the girls a little higher. The guy seems to enjoy a heaving pair of mommy milkers, so I can only hope these will distract him and keep his mind on anything but his friend. I still don’t know if Blayne would stoop low enough to fuck his friend’s girl, but something is off about the guy, and I mean to find out what.

That starts with his best friend.