"I have plenty of fatherly love to go around," Keith interrupted gently.
Tears pricked my eyes. "I'd really like that."
Suzy raised her glass. "I think this calls for a toast."
We all lifted our glasses of bourbon.
"To Ginger," Suzy said, her voice strong. "Who did her best with what she had. Who loved her daughter fiercely, even when she couldn't always show it."
"To Ginger," Keith and I echoed.
"And to Boyd," I added, my voice wavering.
"To Boyd," they repeated.
We clinked glasses and drank. The bourbon burned going down, but it was a good burn—the kind that reminded you that you were alive, and that you'd survived.
And it felt like the right way to end this chapter of my story.
December 31, Wednesday
case packingthe process of boxing bottles for storage or shipping
THE LAKEdock jutted out into the dark water, its weathered boards creaking under the weight of a dozen campers bundled against the chill. The Oneys had staked out prime viewing territory, spreading blankets and setting up folding chairs for the town's New Year's Eve fireworks display.
I sat between Tracy and Poppy, a thermos of hot chocolate warming my hands. This was my last night in Kentucky. Tomorrow morning, I'd point my van west and leave all of this behind.
The thought sat heavy in my chest.
"Best spot on the lake," Lou announced proudly, adjusting his camp chair. "Been coming here for New Year's for fifteen years."
"I hope they're good this year," Poppy said, "so you'll remember us, Bernadette."
I gave her a squeeze. "How could I forget you, Poppy?"
"Hey." A familiar voice came from behind us on the dock. "Can I crash this party?"
I turned to see Jett standing there, hands in his coat pockets. My heart jumped at the sight of him—I hadn't expected to see him again before I left.
"Sure," I managed, trying to sound casual despite the sudden acceleration of my pulse.
Lou and Tracy immediately made room, rearranging chairs with knowing smiles. Jett settled beside me, close enough that our shoulders touched, and pulled something from his jacket.
The bottle of Eagle Rare 25.
"You brought that?" I stared at the bottle we'd stood in line for hours to obtain.
"Seemed like the right occasion." He produced a stack of small plastic cups and poured a measure into each, then passed them around to the adults. Then he leaned close to my ear. "For new beginnings."
We sipped the bourbon slowly, letting it warm us from the inside. It tasted expensive and complex, layers of flavor I didn't have words for.
"I'm glad you came," I ventured.
"I came because I have a problem," Jett said quietly, his eyes on the dark lake.
"What is it?"
"I can't bear for you to leave." He turned to face me, his expression raw and honest. "I understand why you're going, but I can't stand the thought of you driving away tomorrow and never coming back."
