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What the hell, Rusty? Do you still have all your teeth?
Rusty laughed out loud, and then groaned from the pain of movement, took a selfie of her face, and sent it to Liz.
For your eyes only.
Liz sent back a series of emojis registering shock, tears, and added an eye roll for good measure.
Oh. My. God. You freaking rock. Love you. Oh. You’ll be proud of me. I’m interning with the event coordinator at the hotel. Don’t tell anyone, but I love it. Even getting up early to go to work. You were a terrible influence on me. I have become an adult.
Rusty sent her a big heart emoji that ended their conversation, but it felt good to have their family connection again.
There were things she had to do to cut her last ties with the past, and one of them was closing up her apartment. But she had friends in high places and numbers to all the good moving companies and considered that inconsequential. What she did want was the rest of her clothes. She’d only packed for a quick trip, not for the rest of her life, but that was all for another day. Today was for ice on her face, and soup in a bowl, and snuggles beneath the blankets and quilts from the generations of Popes who’d come before.
It was daunting to realize she was going to become part of the history of this place. That she and Cameron would be adding to the next generation of Popes on Pope Mountain. She’d always wanted to leave her mark on the world in some way, but she’d never thought her red hair would be part of her legacy. Redheaded babies on the mountain were going to shine like new pennies, considering the number of people she’d met with Indian black hair and dark eyes.
She took the ice pack to the kitchen to refreeze it, then went back to the living room, crawled back beneath the blanket, and closed her eyes.
She was almost asleep when she heard Ghost’s nails clicking on the floor, felt his nose against her sore cheek, and then a gentle lick.
“Thank you, buddy,” she murmured.
She didn’t know when Cameron came in to stir the fire, or that it had started snowing again. And for the first time in her adult life, she was not on alert for sounds that didn’t belong. She would never have to call for backup or put herself in danger to right a wrong again. She had a one-man army and a Ghost, and they’d given her a home.
***
Rusty’s first meeting with Cameron’s family came with a black eye and a bruise on her face the size of B. J. Kelly’s fist. Once word got around that Cameron was marrying a fed, they all made excuses to come meet her. Back in the day, they’d hidden their stills of moonshine from federal agents, and the old ways of distrust still ran deep.
Until they saw her.
She delighted them and then entranced them. She’d been a real-life, gun-toting warrior just like Cameron, only prettier. And now she was marrying into their family and becoming a Pope.
And as Wade Morgan said when he met her, “New blood makes the bloodline stronger. Can’t wait to see the first redheaded baby.”
Every day after that, someone found a reason to come to Cameron’s place. And every day, Rusty met another uncle, or two sets of cousins, or someone’s grandma twice removed. She’d given up trying to remember how they were all connected. All she knew were their names and that Cameron belonged to them, which meant she would, too.
Annie Cauley, Cameron’s aunt, stopped by on her way home from the bakery one evening with an apple tart. She trudged through the snow to the front porch with it still warm in the box and beamed when Rusty came to the door.
“Evenin’, honey. I’m your Aunt Annie. Cam and Rachel’s mama was my oldest sister.”
“You have the bakery in town!” Rusty said. “Come in out of the cold.”
Annie wiped her feet and handed over the tart after Rusty closed the door.
“We’re in the kitchen,” Rusty said, and led the way.
Ghost was lying against the back door like a guard doing sentry duty. He wagged his tail when he saw their guest but didn’t bother getting up.
“Hi, Auntie,” Cameron said. “What did you bring?”
“Apple tart, but now that I see your girl’s poor face, I should have brought custard,” she said.
“No, no. I’m not so sore now. It looks worse than it feels,” Rusty said. “This is much appreciated.”
Annie Cauley paused, giving Rusty a long silent look, and then nodded approvingly.
“You have grit, girl. I can see it in your face. You don’t look away from someone staring, and it’s apparent you don’t run from a fight. I see your heart.” Then she shifted focus to Cameron. “It took you forever. We were beginning to think you were gonna let the Pope name die.”
Cameron grinned. “Thank you for your candor.”
