AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Jo frowns after her but doesn’t speak. I mentally high-five myself.
Seems Sandra’s rumors have taken hold. Over the coming days, more people will suggest to Jo that Jake and she are fated soul mates. Jo will forget the messy end of their relationship. She’ll remember how much she loved my brother and finally give him the second chance he deserves.
And I can dothis. Be friends with Jo. Hang out and chat easily. Manage my attraction to her, which is only surface chemistry.
Needing a break from broccoli, I lead us toward one of the picnic tables set up for the event. Jolene seems pensive, likely thinking about Mrs. Jackson’s love comment. It’s best if I change topics. My grand plan will only succeed through subtlety. “Tell me more about that great cookbook.”
We sit at the picnic bench, side by side, facing the broccoli booths and milling tourists. Delilah and E are at the broccoli Popsicle booth. Desmond is at the craft table with Sadie and their son, Max, making broccoli wreaths. All of them seem relaxed and happy, which makes me happy.
“The book was filled with gorgeous pictures,” Jo says, perking back up. “I can’t get into cookbooks without pictures, and I started experimenting with food more after that. Even thought about becoming a chef, which was silly.”
“If you loved cooking, it wasn’t silly. But I always assumed you’d get a job as a dragon slayer.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “I would’ve killed it as a dragon slayer, but no. My aunt started the Barrel. She was struggling a bit when she brought me on, and I was at loose ends, unsure what I wanted to do for work. Being a chef seemed daunting, and my aunt made it clear she’d love for me to take over the bar eventually since she never married or had kids.”
I think back to our youth, how kind her aunt was. More present than her hot-and-cold mother. “I always thought it was sweet that she came to all your track meets.”
Jo smiles. “She and my dad, yeah.”
“Are things still strained with your mom?”
“Yes and no.” She traces a carving in the picnic bench:Sam + Lily. “My mother still doesn’t have a real maternal gene, but we don’t fight like when I was a teen. We’re just not super close. And I had Aunt Becca,” she says with fondness. “If I was sick, she was the one who’d come over and bring me soup. She talked me through sad breakups and work stress and celebrated my small victories, like buying my first car.”
“She was always the cool aunt.”
“The coolest.” She blinks, her pensive expression both sad and happy. “Anyway, she started training me on the business side of the bar. I wasn’t sure if it was my calling, but then she got sick. Passed away from cancer a couple years ago. She wanted me to have the Barrel, and it’s been mine ever since.” Her voice dips at the end, filled with the weight of loss.
“I’m so sorry about your aunt, Jo. Hate that I wasn’t here to support you when she passed.”
She nods. “It was hard.”
A sad silence settles between us. History we can’t change.
“At least you have the bar,” I say. “A piece of her to keep alive.”
Like with her father’s accident, it feels good to offer my sympathies in person. I sent flowers and made a donation in Rebecca’s honor back then, but this means more. Unfortunately, the strained creases bracketing Jo’s mouth hint at a different stress.
“You don’t love running the bar?” I ask.
“Oh, no. I do.” She flashes me a grin. “It’s great. Her leaving it to me meant everything, and having the kitchen allows me to work with food in a roundabout way. What about you? I wasn’t surprised you got into construction, even though I had to take the lead when building our tree house.” She nudges me with her elbow, being cheeky.
Anyone else might buy her quick mood shift, but I know Jo’s false positivity. I saw how stressed she was at her bar. Something’s up with her at work.
I addFind out what’s stressing Joto my to-do list.
“You and I both know hammers and nails are not your friends,” I say, sticking to her subject change. “Without me, you’d have four fewer fingers and a nail permanently lodged in your hand.”
“Sure, but without me, who would’ve lip-synced to ‘Shake Ya Tailfeather’ while we worked, making you crack up so hard you nearly peed?”
I laugh at the memory. Watching Jolene attempt to shake her booty while singing into a hammer was too damn funny. But as much fun as we had building that tree house, she wasn’t the one who gave me the gift of my job.
“The start of WITSEC was obviously rough,” I say, getting back on topic. “I struggled a lot emotionally, but somehow graduated with a BA from a college in Houston. Lennon and E ditched the idea of school completely, and Jake never planned to go the college route. Des obviously flamed out of law school, but I got my degree, then I had no drive to do anything with it. Couldn’t fathom planning for a future with a fake name. Jake knew I was low. Came to me one day and told me we had to build a new dining table for Mom, even though she didn’t need one.”
“He knew the work would get you out of your head?”
I nod, so damn thankful for my oldest brother. “He took charge with all of us. Must’ve been wading through his own mental swamp, but he made sure we didn’t drown. Told Desmond to look after Mom emotionally, made sure E was drawing. Even came to me one day and shoved a newspaper in my hand. He’d circled an ad for camp counselors and told me to give it to Lennon, hoping it would get him out of the house.”
“Why didn’t he just give it to Lennon himself?”
