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“Thanks,” I said, giving him a sincere smile. He didn’t need to take my shit, but I was glad he did. I couldn’t do half of what I did at the Tavern and Meadery without his help.
As soon as we arrived at the salon’s parking lot, where Alden’s Mini Cooper sat waiting for us, Alden shot me an evil grin. “Guess what I heard?”
“No,” I said, holding up a hand as soon as I slid into the little car. “No salon gossip about JT. Please.”
“Who said it was about JT?” he asked innocently. But I knew my brother better than that.
“I did. And I don’t want to know.”
“Suit yourself,” he said with a sniff. We rode in silence for a minute before pulling up in front of the General Store, where Pop was already waiting on the bench outside.
I moved to the back seat so Pop could take the front. Once he was settled, Alden turned toward the Retreat. “Pop, you’ll never guess what I heard at work today.”
Shit.
“If it was about Redmond Wellbridge, save your breath,” Pop said. “I already heard the news.”
Alden got really quiet and glanced over at Pop, opening his mouth and then closing it before looking back at the road ahead. It was clear he didn’t know what Pop was talking about. If he wasn’t going to ask, then I was.
“What about Redmond?”
Pop shrugged. “Not important. The real hot gossip is the one about a certainFrogsneaking down the alley behind the Tavern very early this morning. Might you happen to know anything about that?”
Heat flooded my face while warmth flooded my heart.
He’d stayed.JT had slept in my bed all night. My throat suddenly felt tight, so I cleared my throat. “What? Who? No. What?”
“Smooth,” Alden muttered. “It couldn’t have been that early because Prissy Newton was out for her chai latte whenshesaw him, and she never leaves the house before seven.”
I needed a change of subject ASAP. “Have either of you heard from PJ? He’s been awfully quiet lately about how art school is going. I’m starting to worry.”
Castor’s twin brother had always had wings on his feet, so I’d done everything I could to help him fly. PJ was a talented painter, and he wanted to see the art of the world—Florence, Paris, Berlin, London, Vienna… His bucket list was never-ending, and I hoped his education would give him the start he needed.
But my brothers and Georgia and I had been a unit for so many years it was strange to go more than a week without at least getting a funny text or picture from each of them.
Alden flapped a hand over his shoulder. “I’m sure he’s fine. He’s been dreaming about going to MassArt for years. Now thanks to you, he’s living the dream, and he’s having too much fun to call home. Stop worrying already.”
Pop was conspicuously silent.
“Pop, what do you think? Have you talked to him?” I asked.
“I don’t like the kids he lives with,” Pop grumbled. “It’s not a good environment for studying.”
Alden laughed. “I’m not sure it’s called studying in art school. Maybe he just needs a nice place to splatter paints against a canvas.”
Pop gave Alden a harsh look, which wasn’t like him. Alden immediately made a sound of apology.
“I just wish there’d been room in the dorms, that’s all,” Pop said finally. “I’m sure he’ll find his way.”
I didn’t tell him there’d been plenty of room in the dorms. That hadn’t been the problem. The problem had been the fourteen grand price tag in addition to the three grand needed for his health insurance. It wouldn’t have left him enough money to buy art supplies. Thankfully, he’d found a group of students to live with off campus. It meant sharing a tiny room with three other kids in bunks, but it also included a kitchen where he could save money by cooking at home.
Before I could worry too much about another one of my brothers, Alden pulled into the Retreat and parked the Mini next to a familiar convertible sports car.
“Fucking Christ,” I muttered. “Why is Frog here? I swear to god, if Willow invited him again…”
“Hush.” Pop opened the door to climb out. “I asked him. Huck wanted his thoughts on sustainable packaging.”
“Packaging for what?” I blurted, hopping out and turning to scan the family group for the familiar stylish head of hair. Sure enough, he was standing there yucking it up with my father, who was looking at him like he was the messiah. I walked over to eavesdrop.
