Page 39 of An Uphill Battle

“I recommend our BBQ pork nachos,” Kasey tells me, a crimson blush staining hercheeks.

“Kasey,” I tell her, holding her eyes. Eyes that I’ll never be able to get lost in because they’re like deep pools and not vast forests. “That sounds perfect.” She jots my order down with a little wink before she dashesaway.

“Dude, the hell are you doing?” Cash asks, his fists clenched tight, resting on thetable.

“Look, AzzyJo’s made it perfectly clear where things between us stand, and I’m not gonna sit around and wallow, feelin’ sorry for myself when she certainlyisn’t.”

“Clear?” Cash snorts. “Clear as mud,maybe.”

Simon regards us over the rim of his glass. “Well, I think it’s a great idea. You’ve been wrapped around Azalea’s little finger for almost a decade. I mean, hell, you’ve dated—what? Three other girls in that span, and not a one of them was anything serious. Don’t think any but Kelly have met your parents, and Brent is who introduced her, not you. So do you, brother. See what’s out there—fish in the sea and all thatjazz.”

Before any of us can say anything else, Kasey approaches our table, expertly balancing the tray holding our food. “Here you boys go. Gimme a holler if y’all need anything else.” She sets a stack of napkins in the center of the table before pulling a folded one from her apron. With a shy look, she slides that napkin just under the edge of my plate and murmurs, “And you gimme a holler anytime,sweetie.”

She saunters away, and Cash lets out a harsh exhale. “Let the record show that I think you’re making a hugemistake.”

“Noted,” I tell him. “Now, let’seat.”

21

Azalea

Idon’t remember gettingin my bed last night, or even getting home, but nevertheless, it’s where I wake up. My head is pounding, and my mouth feels like it’s been stuffed with a million cotton balls. I try to sit up, only to be overcome with an aching wave ofdizziness.

Retreating to the safety of my fluffy covers and pillow, I snuggle down and will away the feelings of sickness. And it works until the events that led me to this predicament start to trickle in. Drake with Kelly. The stranger at the bar. Hitting on Brent. Drake telling me to go home. Kelly at his house. And then I’m dashing from the bed to the bathroom, where I hit my knees and pray at the altar ofregret.

“Never drinkin’ again,” I mumble to the empty room, my head resting on top of my hands on top of the toiletseat.

“Sure, sure,” comes Myla Rose’s voice from behind me, causing me to jump and smack my head on the cabinet next tome.

“Holy bologna! Where’d you comefrom?”

She grabs a washcloth from my linen closet and dampens it at the sink before placing it against my forehead. “Magnolia let mein.”

Peeling the cloth back, I give her a blank stare. She sighs and shakes her head at me. “Yes, Az, Magnolia. You had quite the night last night, and thankfully, she was able to come over here and sit with you. How much of what happened do youremember?”

“Now? Pretty much all of it. Ugh.” I drop my head back down onto my hands and let the tears fall. Myla Rose crouches down and rubs my back for a few minutes before she straightens back up and starts theshower.

“Let it all out, sister-girl, then get showered and meet us downstairs. You didn’t let me sit around and sulk, and I’m not about to letyou.”

“Us?”

“Yes, ma’am. Mags and Seraphine are currently laid out on your couch watching some Netflix Original about two brothers and their ranch. Now, dry up them tears and get ready. We haveplans.”

I go through the motions of getting ready—tossing my hair into a messy bun and applying a light dusting of makeup with the grace of muscle memory. Thankfully, Myles laid out clothes for me, because God knows, I don’t have the energy to care what I look like. I’d probably end up throwing something together that screamed heartbreak andremorse.

As ready as I’ll ever be, I trudge down the steps and into my living room, where Myla Rose, Seraphine, and Magnolia are all waiting for me. “Oh, good, you’re ready!” Myla exclaims when she notices me. “I’ve only got a babysitter for so long, so let’sgo!”

“Where’re we going?” I ask, slightly nervous, because the chance of running into Drake in a town the size of Dogwood is pretty darnhigh.

“Don’t worry, AzzyJo. Drake’s with the guys.” Swear to God, Myla Rose has telepathy, because that girl can read mymind.

We all gather up our purses and sweaters and pile into Myla Rose’s beast of a Land Cruiser and head off to wherever she’s taking us. “Hey, Myles, where’d you say we weregoing?”

“I didn’t.” I catch her eye in the rearview mirror, and she just smirks. I hate surprises, and she freaking knows it.Lovely.

Ten minutes later, we’re pulling into the small parking lot for our “downtown” area—and I use that term loosely, because “downtown” is about two blocks in the middle of town, sprinkled with a handful of boutiques, a couple of restaurants, Dream Beans—our favorite coffee shop—and Southern Roots,oursalon.

“So, now ya wanna tell me what we’re doing?” I ask as we collectively make our way down MainStreet.

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