Page 60

Mom always says you can’t live your life based on what other people think. If they really loved you, they’d want you to be happy, no matter what that looks like.

And she’s right. If these people really cared about me—if they were truly my friends, my community—they’d be celebrating the fact that I’m here, whole and breathing and ready to rebuild my life, instead of picking apart who I choose to rebuild it with.

I squeeze Brax’s hand and lift my chin. Mom emerges from the house carrying a platter heavy enough to require its own zip code, her graying brunette hair escaping from its ponytail in the humid morning air. Dad takes it from her, and she starts to turn to tell him off for treating her like she’s fragile but stops when she spots me. She takes us in and then her entire face transforms. Brax and I make our way over to them.

Mom looks giddy, my dad on the other hand, he has that serious look where a hard line embeds itself right above his nose. Nerves tangle in my stomach.

“Morning, baby girl!” Mom pulls me into one of those bone-crushing hugs that only mothers can give.

I melt into her embrace, breathing in her familiar scent. All the anxiety, all the worry about what everyone else thinks melts away in my mom’s arms.

Knox and Jax finish setting things on the table and join us. She pulls back, cupping my face in her hands. She searches my face with that maternal intensity that sees everything. That deep-seated fear that she’ll be ashamed of me. “Oh, honey. I don’t care if you date one man or ten men or no men at all. I don’t care what anybody in this town has to say about it. All I care about is that you’re home and you’re happy.”

Tears prick at my eyes. “Mom.”

“None of that.” She smooths her thumbs over my cheekbones. “You’ve got good men looking out for you, and that’s all that matters.” She glances at Dad. “Right, honey?”

Dad crosses his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed. “Are you boys taking care of my daughter?”

“Yes, sir,” they say all at once.

He hums. “You know I taught your daddy how to clean his guns, right?”

“Henry!” Mom scolds.

“Yes, sir.” Knox is staring at him with the utmost respect. “We won’t hurt her.”

“Again you mean,” Dad says.

Knox dips his head. “Yes, sir.”

“And you two?” Dad demands of the twins.

“Dad,” I complain, trying to save them, but Knox tugs me into his side.

“Let him have this,” he murmurs to me.

Nodding, I press my lips together and watch the interrogation play out.

“Sir, Callie has been my whole world since we were kids. If I hurt her, I’ll let you shoot me.”

“Jaxon,” Mom chastises, but my dad nods at him.

“Deal. And you, Braxton?”

Brax glances at me, a smile tugging at his lips. “Your daughter means more to me than the whole world. More to us, sir. There’s nothing we won’t do for her, and I hope we can show you that we’re serious.”

Dad sizes each of them up, eyes narrowing more on Knox, but after a moment, he relents. “If Sally Mae is okay with it, so am I, but so help me god, if you make her cry, I will make each of you eat lead.”

“Jesus, Daddy! You’re from Big Ridge, you’re not in the mafia!”

He pins me with a look. “I’ll be the mafia if they hurt you.”

My heart squeezes, and it’s hard to be mad at him when he’s protecting me. “No shooting anyone.”

“I’m not promising that.”

Mom sighs. “You’re letting the food get cold. You three understand what my husband is telling you?”