Leah Mae seemed to go into hiding. I texted her a few times to see how she was doing. Asked if she wanted to get together, maybe take her mind off things. But she said she was busy taking care of her dad. I happened to know from Betsy Stirling that Clay Larkin was doing better. Leah Mae was just using him as an excuse to hide out.

Not that I blamed her. There was a lot of gossip flying about with her name attached to it, and none of it was good.

I hadn’t been watching Roughing It. I’d stopped after my scuffle with Rhett. Felt wrong to watch it, like I was supporting something unsavory. But I’d heard the talk and knew what the show had portrayed.

All those people talking shit about her on the internet didn’t know her, and they certainly didn’t care about her. They wanted their juicy story. Wanted to make themselves feel better about their lives by putting someone else down. Tearing a pretty girl off her pedestal.

They’d torn her down, all right.

I’d spent the last week with my hackles up, ready to defend her. Turned out, it wasn’t necessary. The entire town was outraged. The general consensus had already been that the show was a crock of shit, given how she kept being made to look like she couldn’t take care of herself. No one who’d grown up in Bootleg Springs would ever be as helpless as they made her out to be.

And since she’d been back in town, people had taken to her like she’d never left. She was just Leah Mae, Clay Larkin’s daughter. None of this Leah Larkin, fashion model and reality TV star stuff. They saw her for who she was and embraced her as their own.

Nicolette had declared she’d no longer air the show at the Lookout. The people who’d been hosting viewing parties either canceled or found other shows to follow. I’d even heard a few people talking at Moonshine about how they’d been commenting on articles online, calling out the show as being faked. Millie Waggle, who hardly ever raised her voice or said an unkind word about anyone, had gotten spitting mad when Rhett Ginsler had tried to tell her reality shows were real, this one included. She’d dumped his dinner right in his lap and walked away.

The urge to fix this for her—or at least make her feel better—was strong. But there was a line I couldn’t cross, and I wasn’t quite sure where it was.

Since she’d been back, things between us had felt a lot like old times—like those summers she’d spent living with her dad. I felt as comfortable with her as I ever had. Like she was my best friend again.

But I was nursing a bit of a crush, if I was being honest. I’d been reluctant to admit it, even to myself, but it was hard to deny how I felt when I was around her. She lit me up in ways no one else ever had. It wasn’t right, and I certainly wasn’t going to act on it. But it made what I was feeling for her now—that drive to protect her—complicated.

It wasn’t my place to act like her boyfriend—to be the man in her life. I needed to keep treating her like a friend, no matter what the rest of me wanted. So I asked myself, what would a friend do?

A friend might just have a little surprise in store for her. Something to show her she didn’t have to hide out. Not from Bootleg, at least.

Scarlett was having people over tonight for a bonfire, and I decided to see if I could coax Leah Mae out of hiding. I let my sister know what I had in mind, and of course she was in. No need to convince her. We came up with an idea to make Leah Mae feel better—show her we were all on her side. All I had to do was get her there.

I didn’t bother texting, or even calling. I’d tried that already. Invitations were easier to refuse over the phone. Claim you had things to see to, whether or not you really did. She wasn’t at her cabin, so I drove on out to Clay Larkin’s place to fetch her.

The gravel crunched beneath my tires as I pulled up to the house. Dusk was falling, but the porch light was on. I got a bit nervous, looking up at that front door—wondered if I was doing the right thing in coming. But I hated the idea of Leah Mae sitting in there afraid to come out and face the world.

I went up to the door and knocked, then rubbed the back of my neck and shoved my hands in my pockets. Nervous habit. Leah Mae answered, her eyes widening when she saw me. She was dressed in a pink short-sleeved shirt and skirt with flowers all over it.

God, she was pretty.

“Jameson,” she said.

“Hey, darlin’.” I shouldn’t have been calling her darlin’, and I knew it. But it just rolled right off the tongue. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Thought I’d stop by and see how you are.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I’m okay, I guess. Do you want to come in?”

“Sure.”

I followed her inside and nodded to her dad. He was sitting in his recliner and gave me a nod in return.

“Jameson Bodine,” he said. “How are you, son?”

“Can’t complain, sir. I thought I might see if Leah Mae here wanted to join me down at my sister Scarlett’s place. She’s having a bonfire by the lake.” I turned to Leah Mae. “What do you think?”

Leah Mae twisted her hands together and drew her eyebrows in. “I’m not sure.”

“Be good for you to get out,” Mr. Larkin said.

I met her eyes. “It’ll be good. Trust me.”

She favored me with a little smile and nibbled on her bottom lip. Good lord, I wanted to nibble that lip myself. I cleared my throat and resisted the urge to rub my neck again.

“All right, but just for a little while,” she said. “Are you okay for tonight, Dad?”

“Course I am,” he said. “You have a nice night, sweetheart. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She kissed her dad on the cheek and went to get her coat. I gave Mr. Larkin another nod and left out the front door with his daughter.

We got in my truck and started toward Scarlett and Devlin’s place. I could tell Leah Mae was nervous. She held her hands in her lap and watched out the window as I drove. I would have loved to touch her—hold her hand or rub her thigh—but I kept my hands on the steering wheel where they belonged.

“I know you’re worried,” I said. “But I’m telling you, it’s okay. You don’t have to be nervous about going out.”

“Everyone saw,” she said, her voice quiet. “And the things people are saying…”

“You should quit reading what those idiots on the internet are saying about you.”

She cast me a sidelong glance. “Yeah, but half the town has been watching the show. They all saw that episode.”

“I reckon it’s more than half,” I said. “But trust me on this, darlin’, Bootleg ain’t that gullible.”

I pulled up to Scarlett’s house and parked among the rest of the cars and trucks. Music played, and someone had built a mighty impressive bonfire. Dev stood next to it with Scarlett in his arms, her head resting against his chest. All the regulars were here. My brothers, including Jonah. Cassidy and June. There was Nash, and Buck, and Opal Bodine, and a dozen or more other Bootleggers, clutching beers or plastic cups. Talking, dancing, laughing. Just another Bootleg summer night.

Scarlett spotted us as we approached the crowd, her face lighting up. I winked, and she grinned back at me.

“Hey, y’all,” she said, her voice carrying above the music, “look who’s here.”

Leah Mae froze in her tracks.

I put my hand on the small of her back and leaned close to speak quietly in her ear. “It’s all right, darlin’.”

“Hey, there!” came the shouts from the crowd. People raised their cups and bottles to us.

“I got something for all y’all,” Scarlett said. “Just hang tight.”

Scarlett went inside while I nudged Leah Mae toward the fire. She kept close to me and it was all I could do to keep from putting my arm around her shoulders.

“Cut the music for a minute,” Scarlett said, emerging from her door with Devlin just behind. The music quieted. She and Dev had trays with shot glasses lined up in neat rows, each topped with a dollop of whipped cream. “We all know what that piece of crap show did to Leah Mae here. So, to show that we stand in solidarity with our Bootleg sister, we’ve got blow jobs for everyone. Shots, that is!”

The crowd cheered, the noise erupting into the night. Leah Mae laughed and the sound of it was like music.

Scarlett brought the tray to her with a smile. “You first, Miss Larkin.”

Leah Mae took one of the shots and held it up, casting a quick glance at me. Her green eyes shone in the firelight.

“Bottoms up,” she said, and brought the shot glass to her lips. Tilting her head back, she swallowed the shot, then raised the empty glass above her head.

Everyone cheered again, whooping and hollering. Leah Mae laughed as she put the glass back on the tray. She had some whipped cream on her lip and god, how I wished I could lick it off.

Damn it. I had to stop thinking like that.

“You’re next, Jameson,” Scarlett said.

I took a shot and people gathered around to get theirs. When the trays were empty, we all held them up. I wasn’t one to speak up like this on most occasions, but this was different.

“To Leah Mae,” I said, lifting my glass.

“Leah Mae!” everyone replied.

We all tossed back our shots. Leah Mae watched me with a smile on her face. I put the glass down and licked my lips. That whipped cream got everywhere. She still had a little bit of it on the corner of her mouth. Knowing I probably shouldn’t, I reached over and rubbed her lip with my thumb to get the last of it.

She bit her lip and touched her mouth with her fingers. “Thanks. You, um… you have a little bit here.” And then it was her thumb sliding across my lip. That little touch made my heart race and a rush of heat hit my groin.

The music started again, and Jonah handed us each a beer. A few couples started to dance, and someone called for another blow job, earning laughs from the people standing nearby.

Cassidy and Scarlett pulled Leah Mae over to the other side of the fire. Talking girl stuff, I reckoned. I hung back and sipped my brew. Watching.

A new song came on and I cringed. It was Brock Winston. I could tell by the look on Leah Mae’s face that she’d noticed. After the first few lines, the rest of the party seemed to realize who it was, too. A chorus of boos rose up, drowning out the music. Leah Mae laughed again and met my eyes. I gave her a little wink.

By the time the boos stopped, someone had changed the song. Gibson sat near the fire and strummed along on his guitar. Bowie sat near Gibs, staring across the way at Cassidy Tucker. As usual. I shook my head, but I wasn’t one to criticize. I was the one stupidly falling for a girl who could never be anything but a friend.

Figured. I’d kinda wondered if I was too broken to love someone. Maybe I’d done such a good job keeping people out, I’d never left a space to let someone in. Too bad the first time I thought it might be worth the risk, the girl belonged to someone else.

I watched her over by the fire, a beer in her hand. The light of the flames reflected off her smooth skin. Flickered in her eyes. She smiled, and my chest felt like it might collapse in on itself. She was just so damn beautiful. It wasn’t fair. I’d never had a chance with her—not really—so I shouldn’t go beating myself up over not being the one who got to be with her. But staring at her across the way, watching the firelight dance in her eyes, made my soul ache something fierce.

It made me wonder, if I ever did have a chance with her, would I take it? If she told me tomorrow that her engagement was over, the ring was gone, and she was staying in Bootleg, what would I do? Would I step up and take the risk? Tell her how I felt?

I wanted to think I would. That I’d be man enough. But years of hearing my dad tell me I was too sensitive, too soft, too scared, had taken their toll. I’d retreated inside myself, and tried pretty damn hard to stay out of everyone’s way. Be invisible. My art was the only place where the real me showed true. I reckoned that was one reason I hadn’t turned out like Gibs—angry at the world. I had a good outlet. But it hadn’t made me any better with women than he was—not really, at least.

Scarlett appeared at my side and nudged me with her elbow. “How you doing, Jame?”

“All right,” I said. “Thanks for this.”

“Sure,” she said. “It was fun. I hope she got the message.”

“I think she did. Loud and clear.”

“You know, you should just go for it.”

“Go for what?” I asked.

“It,” she said, emphasizing the word, “with Leah Mae. Lord knows you like her, and she obviously likes you back.”

I took a swig of my beer and glanced at Leah Mae again. Thought about denying how I felt. There wasn’t much point in it, though. Just like there wasn’t much point in having a crush on a girl I couldn’t have. Didn’t matter that she was here, in Bootleg Springs, standing by my sister’s bonfire. She might as well have still been off in L.A. Didn’t change the facts.

“Can’t,” I said.

“Come on,” Scarlett said. “Yes, you can.”

I hated saying it out loud—made the ache in my chest hurt worse. “She has a ring on her finger, Scarlett. And it ain’t mine.”

Suddenly, I didn’t much want to be here. I wasn’t going to leave Leah Mae, but I didn’t want to keep talking to my sister, either. I took my beer and walked down by the water, putting distance between myself and the crowd. Felt better that way. Safer. Where no one could see the hurt that lived inside me. Where I could be alone for a spell, and just feel what I had to feel.

There was nothing else for it. Leah Mae couldn’t ever be mine.