Page 107 of Sundown Somewhere

“Really…” Gus says.

“Easy!” Anton notes.

“Easy?” Milo questions, drying a pint glass and then placing it on a stack. “Weren’t you just complaining that all the bridesmaids for said wedding were taken?”

Yes, yes he was. He lamented about the lack of “hot bridesmaids” for Dolly’s wedding too. He and Jace both. Small-town problems.

“That was a joke,” Anton defends.

“She has to be new,” I tack on, my ornery side rising up. Call it payback; call it something else. Either way, I can’t help but push back at the one who is always poking at us. “No asking Alice or Emily, or any one of the other girls we’ve been friends with for years.”

Or Dolly…

My heart clenches, the realization that I won’t be taking Dolly as my date to that wedding hitting me. All the little fantasies I’d had about dancing with her, teasing her about if she was going to try to catch the bouquet, and then taking her home and doing dirty, dirty things to her all fly out the window.

“Fine.” Anton grimaces. I can tell he’s not happy about the new stipulations, but he’s not one to back down. “Challenge accepted. Wait ’til y’all see what I make you do when I win.”

Cocky SOB…

Gus clears his throat. “You mean what each one of us makes you do when you show up to the wedding by yourself?”

Anton gives our oldest brother the single finger salute, something that should have me laughing my ass off. The thought of him failing—or if nothing else this is going to be hilarious to witness—would normally have me dancing in my seat. Tossing around ideas of what he has to do when he can’t hold up his end of the deal with my brothers. No doubt we’ll come up with something epic. Something that we’ll talk about for years to come.

Instead, the numbness inside starts to spread, sucking the joy out of it.

“Should I be worried that all my sons are in a bar this early in the day?”

Miss Belle’s sweet, almost soothing voice wafts through the air, surrounding us like a dense fog. A true Southern belle if there ever was one, she knows how to lay it on in such a way that no matter what she says, it can feel like both a warm hug and a slap in the face at the same time.

Which is exactly how this question lands.

“In my defense, I own the bar,” Milo remarks, shrugging a single shoulder.

“And the rest of you?” she inquires, sidling up to us, placing one hand on my shoulder and the other on Gus’s.

“Solidarity,” Gus answers.

“In a bar. At noon.” I shift just enough to see her judgmental expression take root, our mother not bothering to disguise her critical commentary. The lightness in her tone clues us in that she’s not pissed, but she’s certainly looking for answers. “I appreciate your commitment to the company, Gus, but I would like to think that at this point in his life, Milo has his business figured out enough that he doesn’t need the moral support of all five of you like this.”

“Who said we were supportin’ Milo?” Anton quips.

I take a long pull on my beer, silently wondering what got into him today that he feels like mouthin’ off to our mama is a good idea. I’m one thing, but her? Damn, dude. If he lives through this, we should consider trying to channel his feral middle child energy into something productive.

“Who said what you’re doing is being supportive?” Jace counters.

Mama squeezes my shoulder gently, distracting me from their antics. I take another sip of beer, trying to pretend like I don’t feel it, but she does it again, this time a little stronger, holding on for a beat or two more, letting me know she’s on to my tactics. So much for that.

“I hear your gift didn’t go over as expected.”

That’s an understatement…

“You could say that,” I grumble. “Of all the things I’ve done, all the shit I’ve pulled over the years, who would have thought that this would be what made her realize that I’m not good enough for her.”

The snap of Milo’s bar towel cracks, stinging my skin as it hits the side of my neck. The sharp pain is punctuated by a chorus of reactions from my entire family, the loudest of which echoes off the walls.

“Are you fucking out of your head?” Milo scolds.

“Are you stupid?” Anton asks.