Page 44 of More Than My Hometown

She trails off, and I can see the words get caught in her throat. But what?

But Ewan spread me out on the kitchen counter and made me his meal instead? Licked me like he was searching for the center of the Tootsie Pop? All until I saw stars and screamed his name? Never mind what we got up to in the shower afterward.

Damn right she’s glowing…

I tell my brothers a lot, but that might be a bridge too far.

“Whatever the reason, I’ll eat them.” Milo shrugs, busting open the container and heading to the kitchen.

“Milo!” Brenna scolds.

“Someone’s got to before Dolly sees.”

“Before Dolly sees what?” comes a voice from the kitchen. Dolly’s voice to be specific.

My sister-in-law’s bright, bubbly, blonde head pops around the corner, her eyes going wide in an instant. Like a homing pigeon, she narrows in on the store-bought goods, their artificial goodness sending out radio waves alerting her to their presence.

“Are you really eating that in my home?”

“No,” Milo mumbles with a mouthful of brownie.

“I don’t remember anyone dying and making you matriarch. Or you taking over this house,” Jace hollers from the couch on the other side of the great room that blends into the kitchen. We make our way toward the group, cautiously joining the fray. “Wouldn’t that be Margeaux anyway, once she marries Gus?”

“When it comes to food, I relinquish that power to Dolly,” Margeaux comments from over toward the stove.

“See,” Dolly claps back.

“I’m not touching that,” I mutter, loud enough for only Maisey to hear as we join the group.

Gus, Hux, and Jace are seated on the couch and love seat, not paying attention to the baseball game they have turned on the TV, while Miss Belle and Margeaux move about the kitchen working on something. Dolly, looking like she just stepped out of a cooking magazine in her jeans, blouse, and frilly blue seersucker apron, smiles at us as she walks back to join them, nodding at Sawyer sitting at the counter, Anton standing behind her, holding up her end of the bargain of staying out of the way.

Shaking my head, I let go of Maisey, giving her hand a squeeze as I nod to the fridge, silently asking if she wants a drink. She nods, taking a seat next to Sawyer, and it’s like something inside me clicks. My insides swell, suddenly feeling very full as I take it all in. Everything about the scene feels exactly as it should be. Despite the gross, wet, rainy weather outside—or maybe because of it—everything in here is warm, sunshiny, and light.

This is what I want. I just hope it’s truly what Maisey wants as well.

“Milo,” Miss Belle says, looking up at my second oldest brother.

He stops, brownie midway to his mouth, still not bothering to look guilty. Dolly chuffs, shaking her head. Maisey hold up her hands in surrender, ready to take the blame. But Miss Belle cuts her off.

“Are you helping support someone new?”

“Huh?” he mumbles, mouth full.

“Your shirt. That’s not one of your brands. Is that a friend’s place? Someone local? I haven’t heard you mention them.”

I turn to look at Milo’s shirt, taking a moment to fully read the logo over his heart. When he walked in, I didn’t think twice about it—simply assumed it was a Southern Brothers shirt and that was that. But now that I look at it—the perfect cerulean color of the shirt, with the massive circular logo, a large, overflowing barrel of apples in the center, with the words Cummins Cider around it—that isn’t a Southern Brothers brand. In fact, I’ve never heard of Cummins Cider.

Cummins Cider.

Come inside her.

O..M…F…G

I choke on my laugh, trying to stop myself, immediately turning to the fridge so my mama doesn’t see. Milo has always been the sassy brother and loves his punny, borderline inappropriate shirts. But that one…wow. He’s brave to wear that one in this house.

“No, Mama, it’s…”

“Cummins Cider,” Miss Belle says. “Cumm⁠—”