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“Nice. I’ll check in with you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

Mina collects her things and hurries out the door.

Half an hour. I think I won the boss lottery.

But now I’m alone with my thoughts. I haven’t looked at my phone all morning, afraid of being thought of as a stereotypical, social media-addicted Gen Z. I pull it out.

Jenna has texted asking if I want to study with her for our racism class. I respond with a yes.

Friends are hard to come by. I shouldn’t let one go easily. Jenna is good. But Bailey is always going to be involved with the Pickles.

I don’t bear any illusion that her marrying into the family means I might ever run into Diesel again. He was clearly determined to avoid them all.

No. He’s gone, gone, gone.

An Insta notification pops up, so I click through.

It’s a message request.

When I see who it’s from, I grip my phone. Greta Packwood-Jones.

That’s Diesel’s sister. Her son was the ring bearer at the wedding.

My finger trembles as I click on it.

Greta: Symphony, I tracked you down from the wedding photos. I’m hoping you can help me find Dean. Diesel. I need him.

My chest tightens. Is something wrong?

Me: I haven’t talked to him since everything blew up.

I almost say more. Tell her they were going to re-enlist. But I hesitate. What if this is a ploy by the Pickles to find them again?

Within seconds, a message buzzes through.

Greta: I haven’t heard from him since the wedding! I’m in a tough spot. I came to their bar, but it’s boarded up! When did that happen?

She’s in Florida?

Me: I thought you lived in Jersey.

Greta: I flew down. I thought they’d be here. Everyone said they were here. But they don’t respond to calls or texts.

I tap the top of the table anxiously. I don’t know what to tell her. That her dad and uncle showed up and pissed off her brothers?

That Merrick and Diesel are probably already back in the Army?

Me: The bar got shut down.

Greta: Shit. Shit. Shit!

I shouldn’t get involved. I have nothing to do with the Pickles anymore.

Me: Bailey and Rhett are back from their honeymoon. They can help.

Greta: I don’t want them! Only my brothers will understand what I’m going through.