Page 6

He nods. “Did his charming mood have anything to do with Chief Hawkins coming out your front door?” he asks, leaning against my car with his arms crossed over his chest.

I give him a kiss on the cheek as he takes my shoes and makeup bag from my hands. “Griz, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He gives me a yeah, right lift of his eyebrows.

“Said he’d meet us at the river. Figured he either had something happen at the distillery or you got under his skin again.

” He raises his hand, waving at Skip from the bait and tackle truck.

Griz is never too busy to say hello to people.

The two old timers exchange a few niceties about where the fish are biting lately, and then he and I make our way out to the river.

Griz smiles with his eyes closed as he casually leans back into the plush leather seats of my 1969 Mustang. “Can I tell you something without you speeding up any higher?”

“That doesn’t really feel like the start of a good conversation, Griz,” I tell him with a chuckle.

“I’m going to say the thing that everyone says you’re not supposed to say.

” He looks ahead at the familiar road leading to one of the few secret places still left in this town.

“I thought I’d be dancing at your wedding long before I was ever going to dance again at one for Lincoln or Grant.

I’m happy seeing them happy, don’t get me wrong, but I thought you would have sorted things out by now. ”

My throat is suddenly dry. His disappointment at the fact that I’m not married hits my chest in a way I wouldn’t have expected.

Griz is the only person—well, maybe not the only person—but one of the most important opinions that matters to me.

He’s been the voice of reason for most of my adult life.

The patriarch to a family I wanted to be a part of and who folded me in without batting an eye.

“Griz, you, of all people, should know that getting married is just an agreement to love someone. Feels like paperwork for promises that can be made without it. I don’t know if I want to make a business deal out of my feelings.

” But even as I say it, I hate it. I’ve been leaning into this single and powerful persona for so long, that it’s started to feel like a lie.

I hate that women are painted into these corners, that you have to be one versus the other.

A part of me craves to prove it all wrong.

“That’s not how I meant it, kiddo,” he says more quietly as we pull down the dirt and gravel road.

“I just thought that you—” he cuts himself off, making my eyebrows pinch.

Redirecting the conversation, he says, “You are as much mine as the rest of my boys. Maybe not by blood, but by everything else that matters. Loving someone isn’t a weakness.

You can be exactly the woman you are—strong, smart, sassy as all get-out, and still give in to it. ”

I glance over at him as he stares out the window at said boys, seemingly unfazed by the words that just affected me deeply.

Lincoln’s smiling and yelling something to Grant, who simply nods with a twitch of his lip.

In the distance stands Ace. The oldest who always seems to be a little bit farther away than the rest—watchful and protective.

I sit taller in my seat, pushing my shoulders back and readying to mask the affection I can’t seem to shake for that man.

“Maybe I just haven’t met the right person yet,” I add with some attitude.

Griz lets out a soft grunt, like he heard the punchline to an unspoken joke. “Maybe so. But I see plenty of what goes on around here—more than most. Have for a long time.”

The truth is, I want to be loved out loud. Choosing to marry a person is just about as loud as it got. That seems like something I could only witness, not participate in. I watched Lincoln find it with Faye. I witnessed Laney arrive as a stranger and pull Grant out of despair.

Love has transpired around me in intensely epic ways, which means I have to believe in it.

I just stomped it out of my own reality.

For years, my father ingrained in my mind that marriage for our family was a business deal.

Then one day, he quit pushing it. I somehow earned the freedom to find it and chose myself instead of looking for happiness with anyone else.

The world tells you to be kind, then to be selfish, then to share it with someone.

To have mind-blowing sex, then to find your best friend.

To depend on yourself, but to lean on others.

Truthfully, it’s exhausting—all the convoluted hypocritical messages that, in my mid-thirties, are altogether paralyzing.

“Griz,” I exhale, giving him a lazy smile. “Life is complicated right now. I can’t think about folding someone into my mess.” It’s an excuse, but a good one at that.

He nods to himself, knowing those words quite simply mean to back off.

I cut the engine and look out at the three Foxx brothers wading out in waist and thigh-high waters, casting their lines. From this angle, they all look like the boys I knew growing up. The bourbon boys who fueled gossip the same way these flies and feathers lured fish.

There’s something poetic about watching them in the morning light. Affection for people who only cared to see the best in you can quickly turn a person into something entirely new. I would always be grateful to them for that.

Griz interrupts my reminiscing with a pat on my leg. “You practically raised yourself, Hadley Jean, but the little part I played in that, I never once told you it’s okay to not go after what you want in this life. It’s too damn short to sit here and watch.”

As he stands out of the car, I hear Lincoln shout, “Griz, did you white knuckle it the whole way over?”

Grant’s next. “You’re lucky there’s not a patrol ticketing this early.”

I flip him off, just as my phone buzzes again.

“I drive like the goddesses intended,” I shout back to them both.

“How’s that, Hadley? Like there are no rules?” Linc laughs.

I smile, pulling on my galoshes. “Fast, flawlessly, and instilling fear in overly confident men.” I look out to the center of the river. “You too scared to hitch a ride this morning, Ace?”

He doesn’t answer. His wide stance and strong arms move effortlessly, casting the way Griz taught all of us years ago.

I inhale the morning smells and brush off being ignored. “River’s high today,” I say to Griz.

He adjusts his hat, crossing his arms and looking out at the view. The side we’re on is much calmer than the other. But today, they both look high and ready for a good showing.

“You know the routine.” He nods toward where Ace is standing. “If it gets too rough, or you lose your footing, find the center—the limestone plates that cut the river are shallow enough to keep you from moving to that far side and under. Find the center.”

As I get into my flow of fly-fishing, laughing along with the boys, my phone buzzes, instantly sobering me all over again.

UNKNOWN

Miss Finch, my patience is wearing thin. I expect payment and penance. Do not push me.

It’s a new number, but with a similar tone of threat. And there isn’t a single thing I want to do about it. If people my father had worked with are looking for payouts, I’m not going to be the one to do it. Everything he was involved in makes me sick to my stomach.

Over the past year, I’ve been dodging one problem after the next.

There were side-eyes and snarky comments, simply for being my father’s daughter.

There’ve been plenty of threatening messages, property damage, letters, and social media canceling that came with it.

Today isn’t going to be the day to deal with the barrage of bullshit.

Swallowing my nerves, I pocket my phone.

When I look up, Ace is watching me. The tendons in his neck flex and his jawline tightens, like he’s pissed that I caught him looking. I give him a taunting smile and wiggle my fingers at him.

This weekend, my best friend in the entire world is marrying the love of his life, and despite the texts, and nudging of marriage, or the brooding oldest Foxx brother, I’m ready to celebrate.