Page 67 of Property of Bones

“Was he the one in the bar fight?” I ask, my heart tugging.

Daddy’s been gone three years. It’s been hard on Mama. After forty years with him, learning how to be alone hasn’t been easy.

I glance up at Jack and wonder what we’ll be like in forty years. Just imagining losing him now hurts. I don’t even want to think about what’ll happen if he goes before me.

“Nope,” she says cheerfully. “But he finished it.”

Jack chuckles, eyes full of something that looks dangerously likeaffection. For both of us.

“So,” Mama says, casually buttering a roll like she’s not about to commit emotional homicide, “how long do I have to wait for my first grandchild?”

I drop my face into my hands with a groan. “I should’ve just stayed on the porch.”

“I disagree,” Jack murmurs beside me, not even trying to hide the smile in his voice. “You’re Ma is amazing, baby.”

“Not helping,” I mumble into my palms.

“Oh, I think he’s helping just fine,” Mama grins. “Now, Susannah Mae, do you want a baby shower theme that’s sweet and southern or something a little more modern?”

“Kill me now.”

“Well,obviouslyit’ll be a biker baby with a god complex and adorable dimples. I just need to know if we’re doing sunflowers or skulls.”

“I’m moving to Canada.”

“No you’re not,” Jack says, leaning closer, voice low enough to be just for me. “You’re stuck with me, remember?”

I peek through my fingers to glare at him. He just smirks.

Mama hums. “Oh yes, I like this one.”

***

“How was it?” Riley asks the moment I walk through the front door of Jack’s house. Either they have keys or Jack just leaves his door unlocked. I don’t mind though. I need some girl time while Jack meets with his brothers about club stuff.

“AbsolutelyMORTIFYING,” I announce, throwing my bag onto the couch like it personally betrayed me.

Abby perks up from the recliner, grinning. “Tell useverything.”

I flop down dramatically, the universal signal forbrace yourselves.Which hurt like crap, but right now, the pain eases some of my embarrassment.

Over the next several minutes, I recount the entire evening. Every eyebrow-raising, soul-searing moment with no mercy andmaximumdramatic flair. From Mama asking Jack about his scars like it was a job interview, to her full-blown“when you marry my daughter”declaration… and of course, the final blow:

“She asked about grandkids, y’all.”

Riley gasps.

Abby cackles. “Already?! Dang, she’s not playing.”

“I’ve known the man for like, what, a week and a half?”

“Ten days,” Riley says helpfully.

“Not helping.”

“Did Jack faint?” Abby asks.

“No,” I grumble. “He just smiled. Like heenjoyedit. Like he’s already picked out nursery paint and baby names.”

---