Page 35 of Highball Rush
These people had kept hope alive for almost thirteen years. Left my missing-persons posters up long after the case had gone cold. Held onto the belief that I’d one day be found. This entire community had mourned when they’d heard I was dead.
It both broke my heart and made me furious at the Kendalls.
He stopped, although I couldn’t tell why. There was nothing out here. Just trees.
“Where are we going?”
“Secret hot springs,” he said. “I signed up for two hours, so we should have plenty of time.”
“You have to sign up to go to the hot springs?”
He turned off the truck. “This one, yeah.”
“Why?”
His eyebrows lifted.
“Oh,” I said, letting out a nervous—and unflattering—giggle. “I get it. To prevent interruptions. So I guess people will just think you and your secret girlfriend are getting serious.”
He grunted and opened the door.
We walked down a path in the woods, passing several largeNo Trespassingsigns. The air grew heavy with moisture, a thin mist curling between the trees.
Voices up ahead broke the enchanted silence of the woods. Gibson clasped my hand in his and walked in front of me, blocking me from view. My heart rate kicked into overdrive, but Gibson squeezed my hand, leading me forward.
“There you are,” a male voice said. “What in the hell are we doing out here?”
“Damn it, Gibs, you said there would be breakfast."
“I’m all for meeting your lady friend, but couldn’t we have done this at Moonshine?” That sounded like Scarlett. “Where there’s caffeine. And pancakes.”
Gibson stopped and, without letting go of my hand, nudged me so I’d stay behind him. “No, we couldn’t do this at Moonshine.”
“Okay, well, we’re all here.” The first voice again. Maybe Bowie? “You gonna tell us what this is about?”
He took a deep breath. “I do have a woman staying at my place, but she’s not my girlfriend.”
“You mean Maya who works for the fancy record company ain’t your girlfriend?” Scarlett asked.
“No, she’s not. And her name isn’t Maya. Well, it is now, but it didn’t used to be.”
It was as if the entire forest had gone silent. I didn’t even hear a bird chirp.
“Gibs,” Scarlett said, her voice tentative. “What are you talking about?”
Squeezing my hand again, he glanced over his shoulder and nodded. I met his eyes and nodded back. Here went nothing.
Gibson drew me out from behind him. I clutched his hand, suddenly afraid to let go.
Steam rose from the water of the nearby hot springs, shrouding the area with mist. A group of people stood, mostly in pairs, around the clearing. Most I recognized. A few were new faces, but it was easy to tell who everyone was. Gibson’s brothers, Jameson and Bowie, with Leah Mae and Cassidy. June stood in front of George Thompson. A man who had to be Jonah Bodine was on the end, holding hands with a woman I took to be Shelby. Scarlett was with her boyfriend Devlin. And giving me a reassuring smile was Jonah’s mom, Jenny.
All eyes were on me. I searched their faces for signs of recognition. Did they know me on sight? Would all of Bootleg know if I showed my face?
“Y’all, this is Callie,” Gibson said. “The real Callie.”
No one said a word. They stared at me, glanced at each other, and eyed Gibson with confusion.
“Bullshit,” Scarlett said, finally breaking the silence. “Since when did you get a sense of humor, Gibs?”
