It was strange to miss someone I’d known only a few weeks and weirder still to do so when she’d left my bed this morning and I’d be in hers tonight. But Scarlett had that kind of effect on me. She’d not only brought me back to life, but she’d started to drag me even further into the world of the living. I couldn’t remember ever feeling this light, this unencumbered.

When I tried to explain it to her, she claimed it was the hot springs. The hot springs were Bootleg’s answer to everything. Cold cured? Hot springs. Little Freddy finally stopped biting at day care? Hot springs. Won the lottery? Hot springs.

But I knew the truth. It was Scarlett Bodine that had me musing about my life on the new deck with a view of the lake and plans for take-out and a bonfire tonight.

My cellphone rang on the table next to my laptop. The dread I felt now whenever the phone rang dissipated when I saw the caller ID. It was hard to face discussions with my parents and our publicist and attorneys when I wasn’t feeling particularly bad about what I’d done to Hayden Ralston. However, my grandmother wasn’t calling to update me on my old life.

“Gran, how are you?”

“Well you certainly sound cheerful,” she said shrewdly.

“I’m sitting on your deck catching up on some emails in the sunshine. What’s not to be cheerful about?”

“Hmm,” she said in her you’re-not-fooling-me tone. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you found a nice girl.”

I sighed. The Bootleg grapevine obviously had offshoots that extended to Europe.

“I might be enjoying my time with someone,” I hedged.

Gran hooted. “He’s seeing our Scarlett, Estelle.”

“About damn time,” Estelle called in the background.

“Don’t listen to her,” Gran said fondly. “She had her money on y’all getting together a lot earlier. Sometimes you’re too stubborn for your own good.”

“Tell me there wasn’t a pool on me and Scarlett,” I sighed.

“If you want me to lie to you, I will,” she said cheerfully.

I swiped a hand over my beard, not nearly as annoyed as I should have been.

“If it makes Estelle feel better, I was ready earlier than Scarlett was,” I told her.

“That’s my boy,” she said cheerfully.

“Where are you two globe hoppers today?” I asked, changing the subject.

“We’re enjoying the late afternoon sun and some tea at a rooftop restaurant in Malta in our new hats,” my grandmother announced.

The corners of my mouth lifted, picturing Gran and Estelle tearing up the island nation with their antics. “How did you end up living this life, Gran?”

She laughed. “You mean, how did I escape?”

I laughed ruefully. “Your life looks nothing like Mom and Dad’s.” Or mine.

“And thank God for that. Listen, Devlin, and listen good. You only get a set number of days, a limited number of sunrises and sunsets. And it’s up to you to make sure you’re taking full advantage of them,” Gran announced.

“It’s not like I’ve been wasting my life,” I began defensively. I was in public service. Politics was an honorable pursuit. I wanted to work for my country, serve my people.

“I didn’t say that you were. But I’d look real hard to see if that’s your calling or if you’re just walking the path your father set out for you. Because I can see how you’d confuse one with the other. He’s been grooming you since you were born.”

This was the part of Gran that drove my parents nuts. They loved her, of course, but they didn’t understand her.

“What else would I do with my life if I wasn’t walking that path?”

“If you ask me, I think it’s high time that you figure that out. I’ll say this because I love you. I didn’t see you happy. Not when you were elected, not when you married that shithead Johanna. I saw you following through on a purpose and setting and meeting goals, but I never once saw you happy.”

That familiar anxiety settled like a block of ice in my gut. I knew now that I hadn’t been happy before, but I’d had a purpose. Sitting here around Bootleg feeling lighter, feeling happy, but not having a purpose wasn’t much—if any—better.

“Maybe not everyone is made to be happy. Maybe some of us have to find other things to feel.”

“That sounds like some kind of bull that your father would spout about duty and honor and service. If you love being a lawmaker, if it makes you feel good—not important, but good—then stick with it. Be that. But I want you to decide, not your parents and sure as hell not that crappy ex-wife of yours.”

“Gran, why did you come to Bootleg?” I asked.

She sighed. “It’s the realest place I’ve ever been,” she said. “It’s not some political epicenter where everyone is constantly scheming. Bootleg lets you know where you stand. People care about you. They’re not just calculating what they can get out of being associated with you.”

I thought about the casseroles and the cards and the neighbors popping in on the Bodines. Hell, Millie Waggle had showed up on my doorstep with a pan of sticky buns for Jonah when word spread that he was Bodine blood. Sure, he was the bastard half-brother no one had ever met before, but he was still family and a Bootlegger by association.

The Bodines had a support net in place in their friends and neighbors.

Who had been there for me when Johanna had left me? Who had stood by me during the ensuing scandal? They’d shipped me off like a pariah and left me to grieve my life on my own. Until Bootleg. Until Scarlett.

* * *

My afternoon passed with a few hours of research on court precedents. I packed it in and went for a run along the lakefront trail. My pace was faster than it had been when I first came. I hoped I’d be able to regain what strength and speed I’d lost in another few weeks. And I vowed never to let something level me like that again.

“How was the run?” Jonah asked when I got back to the house, winded and sweaty.

“Not bad,” I said, filling a glass from the tap. “Not bad at all.”

“Your phone was blowing up,” he said, nodding to where it charged on the counter.

I picked it up and eyed the grilled chicken salad Jonah was assembling. I needed to learn to cook. A quick swipe of the screen and my good mood vanished. I felt a wave of anxiety wash over me just seeing her name.

Johanna hadn’t reached out since my showdown with Ralston. And at that point, she’d left a chilly voicemail telling me she was disappointed that I didn’t seem capable to handle our situation maturely and professionally. The only communication we’d had since had been between our attorneys.

I considered ignoring the text, but that was the chickenshit way out and not the Mona Lisa McNugget kind.

The Bodine brothers wouldn’t hide from their past. Hell, Gibson saw his horrible ex on an almost daily basis. I tapped the message.

Hell. No. I didn’t have anything left to say to her. Had she sent this text a few weeks ago, when I was sitting in a strange town in a dark house, I would have had a litany of topics to discuss. But now? Everything was different. I was different.

I swiped back to the messages and Scarlett’s name popped up on the screen. My heart soared, and I marveled at the difference in my reactions to the two women.

“Oh, shit.”

Jonah’s head swiveled in my direction. I dialed Scarlett’s number and made a grab for my car keys. “Where’s Judge Carwell’s house?” I asked when she answered.

“Oh, thank God! I thought I was gonna die under this rotted out lumber.”

“I’m on my way as soon as you tell me where you are.”

“I’m on Rum Runner Avenue. Blue house, black shutters. My truck’s out front.”

I heard a weird growling noise in the background. “What’s that?”

“I’ll explain when you get here. Please hurry, and don’t you dare say a word to my brothers.”

“I’ll be there in five.” I hung up and headed toward the door.

“Scarlett emergency?” Jonah asked from the kitchen.

“I’m not allowed to tell you. But if I can’t fix it, I’ll call you,” I said, pushing through the screen door.