Page 71 of The One Who Saw Her: Boone

CHAPTER 28

The Tipsy Cow was in full Saturday-night swing—music thumping, laughter rising over the clink of beer bottles, and a pool cue snapping somewhere near the back. Vivi ducked through the crowd, side-stepping a cowboy doing his best impression of a line dance solo.

"New York! You want your usual?" Dottie called from behind the bar, a single, silver braid falling over her shoulder.

"Sure do," Vivi said, smiling as she slipped onto a stool beside Jo. "And maybe a basket of buffalo fries before I start eating the coaster."

Jo sipped her drink. "You've been here five minutes and Dottie's already offering you a tab. When did you become everyone's favorite city transplant?"

Warmth spread through Vivi at the words. The same people who'd once looked at her like an outsider now waved her over like a local.

"Probably around the time I helped her polish her dating profile," Vivi said. "Turns out she's got a real knack for boomerangs, beer pours and likes to kayak. So do a few other silver foxes in town. She's booked solid for the next three weekends."

"You're terrifyingly good at this whole small-town assimilation thing."

"You just have to listen, smile, and remember whose kid won the local talent show last year," Vivi said, waving to an older ranch hand she'd met at the farmers' market.

"Yeah. Now, tell me why you're buttering me up."

Vivi hesitated, wishing she was already a martini or two into the night. "Don't freak out, but I might've done something incredibly good or terribly bad. Jury's still out."

Jo took a long pull on her beer. "Remember when I said I wasn't your therapist?"

"You invited me out."

Jo glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot, then leaned in and whispered, "Only to see if you had any news on Eli."

The comment broke something in her heart. After nearly a decade, there were clearly still unresolved feelings there. The weight in Jo's glance said everything—years of love, regret, a story of loss that hadn't finished being told.

Vivi thought about her own messy, transient relationships. How she'd never been someone's everything, never risked it all and watched it crumble. A shiver ran through her at the thought of loving with that kind of intensity—giving everything and still losing—and she realized she might never fully understand it.

Though lately, she was starting to wonder.

"I thought you didn't want to talk about him," Vivi said quietly.

"I don't. But that doesn't mean I don't want to hear about him."

"His leave is up. He goes back next Monday."

"Good riddance," Jo said and absolutely did not mean it.

"Can we get back to me?" Vivi said, and Jo looked visibly relieved to hand the spotlight over.

"Is this where I have to find a single fuck to give?"

"Just one, I promise,” Vivi began. “I think I solved a very big problem."

"Every sentence that starts like that ends with me needing another drink."

Unable to contain it, Vivi squirmed in her chair. "I sent a letter to Boone's neighbor explaining what a grand gesture it would be to uphold the agreement and abide by his great-uncle's wishes. I even offered to spruce up his dating bio for free."

Jo's face went still. Eyes wide, mouth slightly open. Horror radiated off her in waves, and Vivi felt the certainty drain right out of her.

"Virgil the worm?" Jo asked.

"He's not a worm. Everyone has redeeming qualities."

She believed that—genuinely believed it. Even the ones who ghosted, screwed up, or made her want to throw her coffee across the room. The world wasn't totally cruel and people weren't irredeemable. That belief had always steadied her.