Page 177 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

Carson

Don’t repaint them.

His answer came instantly.

Beau

Wasn’t going to.

He understood without asking.

Carson

Clean them. That’s it.

Beau

Yes ma’am.

Where are you?

I glanced toward Rosie.

Carson

Tavern.

Beau

You’re voluntarily socializing?

Carson

Don’t ruin this for me.

Beau

Proud of you, sweetheart.

I rolled my eyes, yet my heart skipped a beat at the stupid nickname, and butterflies erupted at his little text that shouldn’t have meant a damn thing, but did.

I hated how much I liked that.

Gerald Parker’s truck was parked beside Meme’s Camry when I got home. I smiled before I even reached the porch. Gerald had been one of Pops’s oldest friends and had somehow become Meme’s unofficial keeper in the years since we lost him.

He fixed things she didn’t ask him to fix. Brought vegetables from his garden. Appeared every Thursday for coffee.

Meme insisted they were friends. I believed that about as much as I believed Rosie hated Jax.

Outside, through the kitchen window, I saw them at the table. Gerald said something. Meme laughed and touched his forearm. I stopped. There was something sweet about seeing her like that. Not replacing Pops, but living again.

I thought about Rosie’s words in the bar.

Sometimes the life I thought I’d settled for became mine.

Maybe I’d spent too long believing happiness only counted if it looked like the version I’d imagined before the accident.

Gerald noticed me through the window. “There’s my girl.” He stood and wrapped me in one of his ridiculous bear hugs after I made my way inside. “You smell like a bar.”