Page 104 of 10 Signs You Need to Grovel

By the time I’m done and Mom agrees about the cash, she sniffles. “You’re finally doing it.”

“Doing what?”

“Letting go of all your hate and letting in the light.”

I nod as I drive, because she’s right. I’m not sitting here comparing myself to the guy I was before WITSEC. I’m finally figuring out who I’m meant to be now, taking strides to claim my life, instead of plodding blindly through my days as a Walter. It feels pretty damn great.

After we hang up, I call the next person on my list, who will no doubt give me a lot more attitude than Mom.

“Did you bribe the parents from your hiking group?” Lennon says when he answers.

“No?” I hedge. I did bribe the kids with prizes. Last I checked that wasn’t a crime.

“They all want to reenroll for the fall, and they’re telling people you ran an excellent program.” Instead of sounding thrilled, there’s tension in his voice. “I’m getting calls, Des. Like, a lot of people want to sign up.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

He makes an annoyed huff. “My business has been struggling in Houston. E keeps telling me I should move back to Windfall, that the outdoor scene there is ripe for what I do. I keep telling him starting over and rebuilding a reputation is too hard. Now you’ve gone and proved me wrong.”

I squint at the passing farmland that stretches between Ruby Grove and Windfall, not connecting those errant dots. “I thought you loved Windfall growing up. That you missed living there.”

“I did,” he mumbles. “I do.”

“I feel like I’m . . .” Missing something, I’m about to say. Then I recall the feisty redhead at the art walk. “What happened with you and Maggie Edelstein?”

“Nothing,” he says quickly, followed by a sigh. “It’s complicated.”

I feel a twinge of compassion. Being ripped away from your friends and lovers without so much as a goodbye has a tendency to ruin relationships. Otherwise known as the Bower Boys Curse. I could tell him rearranging his life over one woman is ridiculous. He should live how he wants and where he wants, but I didn’t exactly lead by example. Until recently.

I tap my thumb on my steering wheel and attempt to channel a portion of our brother Cal’s soft understanding. “I won’t ask again what happened with Maggie. It’s your business. But we’ve spent a decade running and hiding from who we are. If you miss living in Windfall, suck up what went down with Maggie and face her. Don’t let your past dictate your future.”

“Wow, Des. That was deep.”

Such a pain in my ass. “Don’t let my newfound maturity fool you. I’ll still noogie your head until your scalp bleeds.”

He laughs. “I expect nothing less.”

He probably won’t expect this. “About your business, I actually have a proposition.”

Half an hour later, as I roll into Windfall and park on Main Street beside the town square, I relax into my seat and soak in the view. The afternoon sun has burned off the remnants of this week’s rain. Massive barrels still line the street, bursting with flowers and greenery, soon to be replaced with the fall decor of pumpkin-filled wheelbarrows and hand-sewn scarecrows on the lampposts for the Scarecrow Scavenger Hunt, assuming they still do that. People are walking their dogs and pushing carriages, stopping to talk to one another.

My rusted car is getting the odd wary glance, but the mood in Windfall is jovial and welcoming, and I really hope Sadie digs my plan, because I want to live here. I want to let these positive vibes rub off on me and my son.

When Sadie drives by in her red Honda and slows, trolling for a parking spot, my stomach resumes its nervous cramping.

I hop out of my car and strut toward Delilah’s shop, Sugar and Sips. As per my request, she closed the shop early. E’s been in there setting up the space for me, following my instructions. Everything should go smoothly, but this is Sadie. My everything. A strong woman with her own drives and desires, who’s been deathly quiet the past day and a half. I don’t know where her head’s at and if I’m about to derail us further.

As I wait, Maggie Edelstein pushes out of Duke’s Market down the block and saunters toward me, a bag of groceries in her hand. “If you’re panhandling,” she says, “word to the wise: looking like you’re about to puke isn’t helping. Neither is the scowl.”

Guess my resting pissed-off face resembles my I-love-Sadie-and-am-terrified-to-lose-her face. “Lovely to see you again, Maggie. And your sarcasm.”

While I don’t get the Maggie-Lennon conundrum, I like the idea of them together. Specifically, of her sassing the hell out of Lennon.

She stops beside me, gripping her bag with both hands. “I heard you’re ditching law again.”

What in the actual fuck? The gossip in this town is always impressive, but the speed of that intel verges on creepy. The only people who know my plan are Mom, Delilah, E, and Lennon. Delilah’s for sure the weak link here, seeing as she’s best friends with Maggie, but the Lennon angle is too fun to let slide. “Did Lennon share that detail with you?”

“What? No.” Her face gets that hit-the-deck look Lennon acquires when he hears her name. “As I told you, I don’t talk to Lennon. I barely know the guy.”