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Things We Never Got Over(30)

Author:Lucy Score

“I’d pay to see that,” Waylay mused.

“Me too,” Knox and Nash said together.

The corner of Liza’s mouth lifted. “I think you’ll fit in just fine around here,” she predicted. “Even if you do talk like a dictionary.”

“I take it that means you’re lettin’ them stay,” Knox prodded.

“I am,” Liza confirmed.

I didn’t miss the quick flash of relief that played over Waylay’s face before her mask returned.

One less thing to worry about. A nice, safe place to stay.

“You boys know our Naomi here’s a runaway bride?”

“She left some guy standing in a church and stole his car!” Waylay announced with pride.

I picked up the bottle of wine and topped off Liza’s glass and then my own. “You know, where I’m from, we mind our own business.”

“Better not be expecting that in a place like Knockemout,” Liza advised.

“What did he do?” Nash asked. But he wasn’t asking me, he was asking Waylay.

She shrugged. “Dunno. She won’t say. But I bet it was something bad. ’Cause that was a real nice dress she ran out in. It would take something pretty damn bad to make me run away instead of showing it off to everyone.”

I felt the heat of Knox’s gaze on me and shriveled like a raisin. Waylon must have sensed my desperation because he lay down on my feet under the table. “How about we talk about something else. Anything else. Religion? Politics? Blood-thirsty sports rivalries?”

“Sure nice havin’ you boys at the table at the same time,” Liza said. “This mean I don’t have to do Thanksgiving in two shifts this year?”

“We’ll see,” Nash said, eyeing his brother.

I could feel the tension between them.

Not wanting to have dinner end in a wrestling match, I desperately changed the subject. “You know, I didn’t actually steal the car.”

“That’s what Knox said when Mrs. Wheelan down at the Pop ’N Stop caught him with a pocket full of candy,” Nash said.

“Not all of us were born with Dudley Do-Right shoved up our ass.”

“For God’s sake, Knox. Language.” I elbowed him in the arm and pointed at Waylay.

She flashed him a toothy grin. “I don’t mind.”

“Well, I do.”

Fireflies winked in and out of existence in the dusk as Knox and Waylay pitched pebbles into the creek. All three dogs took turns dashing into the creek, then turning around to shake themselves dry on the bank.

Waylay’s giggle and Knox’s low murmur echoed off the water made me feel like maybe today wasn’t the worst day ever.

I had a belly full of sloppy joes and a cozy house to return to.

“Doin’ okay?” Nash came up next to me on the grass. He had a nice, calming presence. I didn’t feel the exasperation around him that I did with Knox.

“I think so.” I turned to look at him. “Thank you. For everything. It’s been a stressful day. You and Liza and I guess even your brother made it better for Waylay and me.”

“Way’s a good kid,” he said. “She’s smart. Independent. A lot of us in town know that.”

I thought about the scene in the grocery store. “I hope you’re right. And I hope I can do right by her until we get things figured out.”

“That reminds me. I brought this for you,” he said, handing over a brochure that it was too dark to read. “It’s about kinship custody arrangements.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“Basically, you’re looking at an application process with a few legal hoops to jump through. If all that goes well, you’ll have six months to decide if you want to make it permanent.”

Permanent? The word sent me reeling.

I stared unseeing as Waylay and Knox took turns throwing a soggy tennis ball for the dogs.

“I asked around about Tina,” Nash continued. “Rumor has it she got herself a new man a few weeks back, and there were whispers about some big score.”

A new man and a big score were both painfully on brand for my sister. “Do you really think she might not come back?”

Nash edged into my line of sight and dipped down until I looked him in the eye. “That’s the thing, Naomi. She does come back, she’s in a lot of trouble. No court’s gonna be thrilled with the idea of letting her retain custody.”

“And if it’s not me, it’s foster care,” I said, filling in the unspoken blanks.

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