Gibson gave me the growly once over when my boots hit the ground. “I didn’t fall off of anything. I swear,” I sighed, punching him in the arm. He smelled like sawdust and stain.

Devlin climbed down after me. He looked considerably less green around the gills once his feet were on solid ground.

“Thanks for the rescue,” Devlin said to Gibson.

My brother, being a rude bastard, grunted. I kicked him in the ankle. “Ow! god damn it, Scarlett!” He gave me a shove and I laughed.

“I apologize for my brother being a crabby bastard, Dev. I interrupted him while he was workin’. He likes that about as much as when I interrupt him sleepin’.”

Gibson sighed. “It’s fine. I was done staining anyway.”

“Gibson here makes the finest cabinets this side of the state,” I told Devlin. “I’ve been after your granny to let him have a crack at her kitchen. I think I’m wearin’ her down.”

“You need anything else?” Gibson asked.

“You’re free to go,” I said grandly, dismissing him.

He started to walk away, grumbling about what an epic pain in his ass I was, but only made it a few paces. “Here.” He pulled a candy bar out of his back pocket and tossed it to me.

Say what you want about Gibson Bodine, but my brother has a heart of gold. It’s just under a whole bunch of thorns. And maybe some gargoyles and fire-breathing dragons. But it’s there, and it’s a whole lot bigger than anyone else knows.

“Thanks, Gibs,” I said, unwrapping the chocolate. Without another word, he jumped in his truck and left. At least he didn’t do a burnout in Granny Louisa’s driveway. He wasn’t a total Neanderthal.

“Let’s go get some lunch,” I said to Dev.

“Lunch?” he repeated.

“You know, the meal between breakfast and supper?”

“I know what lunch is.”

“I’m thinking Moonshine if you want to go.”

“You drink your lunch?”

“It’s a diner, smarty pants. Best open-face turkey sandwich I’ve ever had.” He still looked a little pale for my liking. I wasn’t about to leave a man in the midst of a crisis alone. And there was nothing Whit’s food couldn’t fix.

He didn’t look convinced.

“How many visitors you had today?” I asked, playing the ace up my sleeve.

“Counting you and your brother? Four.”

I nodded. “They’re curious about you. If you show your face in town, you won’t be the broody stranger. They won’t feel the need to come ringin’ your doorbell and handin’ you baked goods if you leave the house every once in a while.”

He didn’t look convinced. “You’re saying if I go into town, they’ll leave me alone?”

“Not entirely. But you won’t be getting near as many strangers on your doorstep.”

“I don’t know, Scarlett. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Man’s gotta eat. C’mon. I’ll buy.” I hooked my arm through his and gave him no choice.

The poor guy didn’t put up a fuss when I shoved him into the passenger seat of my pick-up. I’d seen that look before. That shell-shocked panic. Once, when we were younger and much, much dumber, the four of us were messing around on the ice. Jameson had fallen through. His eyes had the same stunned look as the ice gave way under his feet. We’d pulled him out as a sopping wet human chain. And then lay there on the ice shivering and laughing and half-crying. It’s what we did when one of us was in trouble. From the looks of it, Devlin didn’t have much of a human chain behind him.

I gave him the twenty-cent tour through town. “And those are the hot springs. They keep the lake nice and toasty and draw tourists like crazy. We’ve got a couple of spas on this end of town. And that’s The Lookout.” I pointed to the bar on the hill. “Did your gran tell you anything about the history of Bootleg?”

“She did not,” Devlin said. He scrubbed his palms over his jeans. His nerves were still evident, but at least he was progressing to full sentences.

“Well, Bootleg Springs was the most prosperous town in West Virginia during Prohibition.”

“Ah, hence the name,” Devlin said, catching my drift.

“My great-granddad Jedidiah Bodine was the first to set up a still, and his moonshine became infamous. Soon, the rest of the town was brewing, and every Thursday night, they’d load up boats with liquor. A watch was always stationed up at The Lookout. They’d cross the lake into Maryland where they’d hand off the hooch, and it was distributed to D.C. and Baltimore.”

Devlin made a non-committal noise, but I kept up my incessant chatter as I cruised down Main Street and pointed out more places of interest. The spot where Jedediah led the police on a merry car chase that resulted in the blowing up of his still. That event was still celebrated annually with an enthusiastic reenactment complete with pyrotechnics.

I eased to the curb half a block down from the diner. Moonshine took up the entire first floor of a three-story brick building. The whole block smelled like bacon and home fries. Leftover olfactory souvenirs from the breakfast crowd.

I led Devlin inside and slid into my favorite booth at the back of the diner. From this vantage point, I could see all the comings and goings of my neighbors.

Devlin eyed the greasy menu on the table with skepticism. I, on the other hand, didn’t need to look at mine. I always get the same thing.

“Well, hi there, Scarlett,” Clarabell the head waitress and proprietress of Moonshine said, plucking the pencil out of her brassy red beehive. She and her husband, Whitfield the short order cook, had been serving up plates of goodness for twenty-plus years now. “How y’all doing?”

“We’re doin’ just fine, Clarabell,” I said, ignoring the fact that Devlin had just had a rooftop freakout. “Thank you for the pepperoni rolls last week. That was real thoughtful of you.”

“You’re so welcome. I’m glad you enjoyed ‘em. Now, what can I get for you today?”

“I’ll have the open-faced turkey and a Pepsi,” I said, sliding the menu to the edge of the table.

Devlin looked up from the menu, indecision written all over his handsome face. “I’ll have what she’s having,” he said.

Clarabell gave him her trademark crooked smile and picked up the menus. “Sorry about your daddy, Scarlett,” she said before bustling off behind the counter.

It was a strange reality check, knowing that a week ago I’d been sitting in this very booth across from my father, trying to sober him up with coffee and home fries.

“My grandmother told me about your father,” Devlin began. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” I said, my voice gruff. I hadn’t had time to get used to the idea of life without him. Every morning, my first thought was how hard it would be to wake Dad up and get him ready for work if he was in any shape to accompany me. It was still my first thought, but now it was followed with the realization that it was no longer necessary. I remembered in exacting, painful detail walking into his bedroom and finding him cold.

It was a hell of a way to start every morning since. But if I kept busy enough, I could run from it until I could stand to face it alone. “It wasn’t much of a surprise,” I confessed. “Seemed like it was only a matter of time.”

I didn’t want to tarnish my daddy’s memory any further by rehashing all the ways he failed my family. Not to a man who’d never meet him.

“I’m sorry.” Devlin said it simply authentically sweetly.

“Thanks,” I said and changed the subject. “How you feelin’?”

Clarabell returned with our drinks and a wink. Devlin toyed with the straw she left for him.

“I feel like I owe you an explanation,” he said.

I watched his face. Even though his brow was marred by a frown, he wasn’t hard on the eyes. He had that square jaw thing going for him. And stubble. I was a sucker for a manly five o’clock shadow. His eyes were coffee brown and troubled. His hair was a cross between light brown and blond and currently only styled by the nervous fingers he shoved through it.

“You don’t owe me anything until I’ve done the work,” I said. If he wanted to keep this relationship strictly professional, that was an option. Though I admitted I’d be the teensiest bit disappointed.

“I’ve been going through something lately,” he said. “Nothing like losing a parent, though.”

“Let’s not play my pain is worse than yours,” I said, giving his hand a squeeze before picking up my soda. “Pain is pain.”

He grimaced. “I was married. Technically still am for a few weeks at least.”

“Divorce or plotting her murder?” I asked lightly.

The corner of his lips curved up. “I’ll let you know.”

“What happened?”

“I was under the misconception that we were partners. I thought we were building something, following the same path. I didn’t realize her path involved fucking someone else.”

“Ouch.”

“Sorry, that sounded harsh,” he winced.

“Did you know him?” Growing up in Bootleg gave all residents a leg up on interrogations. We knew how to pump the unsuspecting for details regardless of whether or not it was our business.

Devlin gave a sigh, weighing his words carefully. “You know, I think I might have known him better than I knew her. I worked with him. We were both legislators in the Maryland House of Delegates.”

“Were?” I pressed.

“We’re out of session right now, and I am on a leave of absence to get my shit together.”

It felt like there was a lot more to that story than he was willing to spill. I decided to be patient… for now.

“Did you confront her?” I asked, resting my chin on my hand.

“Not in any meaningful, satisfying way. I didn’t even know she was cheating. I had my eyes on a Senate race in a few years. Political careers are built decades in advance. It meant less attention on the present. Maybe I should have paid more attention.”

“Did she know about your career goals?” I asked.

“Of course.”

“Then it’s her own damn fault, Dev, not yours.”

“I could have tried harder, been more available—”

“Yeah and she could have not put someone else’s dick in her,” I said bluntly. “Don’t be looking for reasons why she’s right and you’re wrong. You didn’t make her go fuck someone else. So stop wasting your time being all ‘what if this?’ and ‘what if that?’ It’s a waste of time and energy. And it’s not going to make you feel better.”

Devlin blinked at my bluntness.

“You’re going to regret not confronting her,” I predicted.

“If I ask you something, will you give me a straight answer?”

“Sure.”

“What’s a pepperoni roll?”

“Are you fucking serious?” I gaped at him. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Clarabell, get this man a pepperoni roll stat!”