Page 94 of Blue Jeans in Low Beams

“Brandt’s gonna be cool with it…” Mell repeats, as if I just said the words in ancient Russian.

“Yes,” I defend.

Mell studies me for a second, and I let her, sure of my answer. I’ve thought about this, and I know my brother. We’re close. Sure, we’ve spent most of this summer playing phone tag and trading one-off texts rather than actually talking like we usually do, and sure, I lied to him when he asked about the photo, but that doesn’t change that I know him. And that I know that what he wants for me is to be happy. When he gets back to Hickory Hills and sees how happy I am with Milo, then he will be happy for us.

“You really believe that.”

“I do. Mell, Milo is his best friend. Has been his entire life. If there is someone that he knows, that he trusts, that he thinks is a good enough person to be his best friend and business partner, wouldn’t that person also be good enough to date his sister?”

“Can’t argue with that.”

Exactly.

I stab victoriously at a stray piece of omelet on my plate, popping it my mouth. The eggs have gone cold, but I swallow it anyway, washing it down with a long swig of coffee.

I need to change the subject. Only problem is, I don’t know to what. The only two things I can think of are the two elephants fighting for space in the room, neither of which we want to talk about—her leaving this afternoon and my relationship.

“Brenna!”

I perk up, never more excited to hear my name. I shift in the booth, my eyes landing on Doc Galindo, our local GP, smiling brightly as he approaches the table.

“Doc.”

“And MaryEllen,” he greets, tipping his pretend cap as he spins a chair from a neighboring table around and straddles it at the edge of ours. “Just the ladies I wanted to see.”

“I didn’t do it,” Mell quips.

“Fair enough, it’s more Brenna. But, I’m happy you’re here too, since I’m hoping maybe once you hear my pitch, you’ll take my side and we can gang up on her together.”

Gang up on me? I’m not sure I like the sounds of this.

“How can I help?”

A good-looking man in his late forties, Doc Galindo has been the town GP since I was little, having taken over from his father. Another one of the original Hickory Hills families, the Galindos have been in charge of the medical practice in town since before the Civil War, and if rumors are true, at least one of Doc’s kids plans on continuing the family tradition.

“Rumor has it you passed your boards. Congratulations.”

News sure does travel fast…

“Thank you.”

“Rumor also has it that Wally Hovland has been trying to get you to stay and take over the drugstore.”

I sigh. Here it is. The guilt trip. I have to admit, I didn’t see it coming from the doc. Others in town, sure. But not him. I’ve always liked Dr. Galindo. He’s gentle, caring, easygoing, and a really good listener. He’s never been one to dismiss someone quickly or tell them that something is in their head. Even a semi-hysterical teenage girl who is convinced she has an STD—even though she’s still a virgin—and it turns out it’s simply a bad case of ill-placed poison ivy.

Not that I know that last part from experience or anything.

“Also true.”

“And are you considering it?”

The hopeful look on his face is enough to make anyone feel contrite. Still, I can’t lie to him.

“I haven’t made up my mind about what my plans are, to be completely honest.”

“I need you to take it. In fact, I’m begging you to take it,” he says.

Begging. Wow. That’s a strong verb there. One that I’m not really sure what to do with.