Page 130 of Bourbon Bliss
I nestled against him, loving the way I felt. Drifting in bliss. “Me neither.”
He kissed my forehead and squeezed.
This was it. I’d done it. Not only had I engaged in mutually satisfying sex with George, I’d broken through the barrier I’d erected in my mind. I could have an intimate relationship with him—both emotionally and physically. We’d just had an amazing sexual experience, but it had gone so far beyond that. We’d connected.
We’d bonded.
This was what I’d been so afraid I couldn’t have. But it had just taken the right man—this wonderful, beautiful man—to have enough patience to show me the way.
41
June
Hundreds of candles flickered in the cool night air. Most of Bootleg Springs filled Lake Drive, from the beach all the way to the library. It had been closed to traffic, although that had been an unnecessary precaution. No one was around to drive. They were all here, standing side-by-side, candles in hand.
Candles to honor Callie Kendall.
I’d gone to Cassidy with the DNA evidence that proved Abbie Gilbert wasn’t Callie. At first, Cassidy had lectured me on leaving things to the authorities, proper evidence gathering, and admissibility in court. But she’d also acknowledged that it was best the truth came out.
Our dad had been the one to break the news to Judge and Mrs. Kendall. He’d said they’d been understandably shocked. The next day, they’d issued a statement, saying they were deeply wounded by Abbie Gilbert’s actions. We hadn’t yet heard if they planned to press charges, and so far, they hadn’t been seen in public.
Once the story had gotten out, the news sites and blogs had eaten it up. There were as many theories about how Abbie had pulled it off as theories about what had happened to Callie.
Mom had called a public town meeting where she stood with my dad and they told the town the truth. The news that someone had impersonated Callie had been met with gasps of shock and calls for Bootleg Justice. But peacemaker that my father was, he’d calmed the crowd. He’d channeled the anger everyone felt toward Abbie into compassion and hope for Callie Kendall.
Her missing persons case was officially reopened. The Bodines seemed unsurprised, but resolute, at the news. Questions about their late father’s involvement were still unanswered, thrusting them once again in the middle of the mystery.
The next day, Millie Waggle and Dottie Leigh had blanketed the town with fliers.Candles for Callie, they called it, and tonight everyone was here.
Pride in my town filled me as I stood next to George, holding my candle. This was who we were. We had a free-range chicken roaming our streets, our town pastime involved home-brewed liquor, and bar fights were as common as rain. But we stood by each other. Cared for each other. This was home. A home where even the weird girl had a place, among people who believed the best, and always held out hope.
The Bodines were all together, showing a unified front. Bowie stood with his arm around Cassidy. Scarlett and Devlin held hands, Scarlett’s usual fire subdued. Leah Mae had her arms around Jameson’s waist, her head on his chest. Jonah had a candle in one hand, his other stuffed in his pocket. He stood next to Gibson, who looked angrier than usual. He glowered at anyone who made eye contact, as if daring people to bring up the fact that his father was still a person of interest in Callie’s case.
George and I stood with the Bodines. More than ever, I felt the connection between our families. Not just because my sister was on her way to becoming a Bodine in the not-too-distant future. Because, more than any other two families in this town, we were linked, the Tuckers and the Bodines. Linked by shared history and friendship, and by a belief that the past didn’t have to write our futures for us.
Shelby, George’s sister, was on his other side. She’d been here, in Bootleg Springs, last year at the tail end of the media circus. She’d come back this morning. I hadn’t had a chance to speak to her much, past our initial introductions. But she was here doing research of some kind. I was interested to find out more.
Scarlett and Jonah both gave her the side-eye, but I wasn’t sure what that was about. In fact, a few people eyed her with suspicion. Perhaps they didn’t remember her, and they wondered why she was here, on a night that was so personal to our town.
I glanced across the street and noticed Henrietta VanSickle. She glanced across our group, her gaze intense. I hadn’t seen her in town in months. She was a hermit who lived outside Bootleg Springs. Rumor had it that she’d taken a vow of silence. I’d certainly never heard her speak. There’d always been something slightly appealing about Henrietta’s life, quiet and alone in the mountains.
But imagine the things I would have missed if I’d have withdrawn so completely like she had. I’d have missed George. And that would have been a tragedy.
When the vigil was over, the crowd started to break up. George and I said goodbye to his sister, who was staying in a B&B down by the lake. Cassidy asked the rest of us to meet her at the Red House in half an hour.
I directed George to the little rental house Scarlett owned. It was a cute little cottage, secluded from most of the other rental properties around the lake. The long drive was lined with cars when we arrived.
Everyone shuffled inside. The businesses in town had all been closed, but someone had managed to rustle up pepperoni rolls and sandwiches. Someone else had brought beer and lemonade.
Everyone who wanted food or a drink got it, and we settled in the small living room. Jameson and Scarlett sat at the tiny table, picking at a donut. Leah Mae sat on the couch next to Gibson. Jonah stood, and I wondered if he was subconsciously keeping himself separate from his half-siblings. Devlin sat on the hearth in front of the cold fireplace, and Bowie sat in an armchair.
George and I found a spot on the floor. He put his arm around me and scooted me closer.
Cassidy stood and glanced around the room. “Thanks for coming. I figured we were all in one place, so might as well get things out in the open.”
George shifted next to me. “I can go if…”
“He can stay,” Gibson said, his voice gruff.
