Page 78 of Already Callin’ You Mine

“We’ve managed to put aside our…” I trail off, not quite sure what it is that we put aside. Our differences? Our mutual dislike of each other?

“Past?” my mother offers. Yeah, that works.

I nod, smiling. “Grown-up Jace is different.”

“I told you,” Dad says. We walk toward the haunted house, which is housed in the field house, following the increasingly creepy signs pointing the way. “And Otis is a good judge of character.”

“Maybe. He’s certainly taken with Jace.”

“And are you?” Mom asks.

Wow, way to come right out with it.

“We’re…”

“You two were in the truck for an awfully long time the other night, and he spent that whole weekend at your place⁠—”

“Barb,” my dad warns.

Mom brushes him off. “All I’m sayin’ is that you don’t find folks like that often. Especially ones as good-looking as Jace Hayes.”

Or as good of a kisser…

I keep that addition to myself. No need to let my parents in on that knowledge. Mom was already digging for something with the truck comment. I don’t need to fuel her curiosity.

“We’re exploring a friendship.” There. That works.

“One that has benefits, I hope.”

Christ, Mother…

“Presley!” Margeaux calls as we reach the field house, saving me from having to dignify my mother’s comment with a response. The line to get into the haunted house is a decent length, but seems to be moving pretty quickly. Margeaux doesn’t let us join it, though, grabbing my hand and pulling us toward the table she’s manning. “Where are Woody and Buzz?”

“Are they not here yet? I figured they would be back by now.”

“I haven’t seen them, but⁠—”

“Mama!” Otis runs up to me, doing his best to tackle me, my underskirts softening the hit to my shins. Despite his small stature, the force knocks me back a step, his giggle ringing out into the night air.

“There you are. I was wonderin’ if y’all got lost.” I kneel down, taking in his even more chocolate-smeared face, now accompanied by matching fingers. “And just how much candy have you had?”

Bouncing up and down, almost vibrating, Otis’s eyes get wide. That’s all the answer I need. Too much—that’s how much candy he’s had. I give him ten minutes at this point—maybe fifteen if we’re lucky. I wonder how easy an exit we can make.

“Uncle Antwan lemme dwive!” He continues to bounce, like an overcaffeinated squirrel, jonesing for another espresso bean.

“He let you what?!” I exclaim, ignoring the uncle part of that sentence. My heart leaps straight into my throat, mind running wild. I know they start them young around here, and kids operate all sorts of farm equipment, but Otis is three. Three! How is he even beginning to reach what’s needed?

“Dwive!”

“He got to put his hands on the steering wheel and sit in Anton’s lap,” Jace explains. “I was right next to him the whole time.”

My pulse slows, the chaotic whirlwind of my brain going with it. That makes more sense. Frankly, I should be ashamed of myself for thinking anything else—of course that’s what they meant. To be fair to myself though, if we’re still living here in a few years, I don’t put it past Otis to try and hijack said tractor. It’s the next level of being a runner.

“Drive…wow, buddy.”

I stand, sighing as I take in Jace. He’s relaxed, happy, and looking rather proud of himself. Looking like a⁠—

Nope, not going to say it.