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I wished she’d ask them.
“I’m sorry,” she said lightly, laughing in a self-deprecating sort of way. “None of that is any of my business. Please, don’t answer that.”
“No,” I answered. “It doesn’t apply to me.”
Quietly, she said, “Maybe it should.”
I was snared in that thought when the song ended, and we came to a stop, motionless for a protracted moment, our bodies pressed together. Daisy stepped back, and I felt the space between us with every nerve.
The request for another dance brushed my lips when I saw her family heading for the stairs, their eyes on us, approving smiles on their faces. Jo called her name, and she turned to the sound before looking back to me with a smile, stepping backward in their direction.
“Thanks for the dance, Keaton.”
I nodded. “Pleasure was mine.”
She turned for the stage, and I stood there like a fool and watched her walk away, finding my feet before she caught me looking. I bid them to turn me toward my brothers, who watched with smug looks on their faces.
And I fought every urge to look back at her, unwilling to give them the satisfaction.
Unwilling to give it to myself, either. I was too broken to get close to anyone no matter how I might want to. My edges were jagged and dangerous, likely to cut up anybody who dared get close. And I couldn’t bear hurting someone I cared for. Including her.
So I packed up any illusions of hope I had and locked the box up tight, convincing myself it was better this way.
But it didn’t work.
12
IT’LL BE FUN, THEY SAID
DAISY
I felt Keaton’s touch long after we parted, felt his gaze from the crowd all night, though I didn’t see him again. It was late when the dance ended, and I guessed they took Sophie home to get her in bed at a decent hour.
But oh, how I wished Keaton had stayed.
I didn’t hear from him or see him until Monday morning, and the next few days passed without incident. There was something behind his eyes that hadn’t been there before, something dark and quiet, but he had such a tight hold of it, there was no other indication of change. He’d mastered himself, leaving me feeling like the conversation had never happened, if not for that roiling darkness he tried so hard to hide.
As for the site, after the first protest, we were able to feed the whole crew, thanks to Bettie and her biscuits, and by the time everyone left, Doug and his gang had left the premises. Finally, after a long day of them yelling and us turning up the Kenny Rogers.
The next morning, there they were again, and though they didn’t cause any actual trouble, their presence was felt deep and wide. Tension was thick enough to swim through—the crew had one eye on the commotion beyond the gate all day. And the day after that. And so on.
But tonight, my family and I were set to have dinner in San Antonio to celebrate our progress on the shelter. It’d all happened a little last minute, and since they had shopping they wanted to do beforehand and I had work to finish up, they left before I was home. So I got myself ready alone, even did my hair up and put on my fancy earrings, since we had reservations at one of the nicest restaurants on the Riverwalk, perfect for a little black dress and heels.
The note on the counter said to take Grant’s Audi, and if it wasn’t written in his hand, I never would have taken the infernal thing. That car cost more than anything with wheels I’d ever driven, but Jo had made us all learn how to drive it, I suspected because she reveled in our discomfort. She knew the feeling, I guess. There was a time she’d cursed that car and contemplated sugaring his its tank. Boy, how things had changed.
Some days, it felt like everything was different. The town had stumbled into a wood chipper and was left unrecognizable. Some people had moved away, some had moved back. Jo had gone off and found herself someone to love, and that maybe brought the biggest change of all for us. For the first time in more than fifteen years, a man lived on the premises. A good man, one we were glad to have. But it had shifted our dynamic, and like Mama had said—Jo went from barking every man off the front porch to nudging us all into suitors’ arms.
The pact we’d made after Drew died had lost its weight. At the time, promising not to date until our mother did was insurance that we wouldn’t have to. We could hide behind silly curses and unrealistic promises made because it was too scary to think about loving someone and losing them.
