Kess went quiet and I glanced over my shoulder. Sure enough, he was listening in on our conversation.
Not that it was any of his business, but I raised my voice when I answered her. “No, sweetie, I don’t have a date. A friend of mine needs a little help, that’s all.”
“Oh. I hope everything’s okay.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Another lie.
“I hope it goes okay, but you owe me, like, twenty bucks for the swear jar,” she said, smirking. “Because you were cussing the whole time you were putting in that lantana.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, even as my chest ached from the thought of Kess seeing other men. It was impossible to be in a bad mood when Stevie was around.
We’d retired the swear jar when she realized how much she enjoyed cussing, but, for old times’ sake, I grabbed my wallet out of my back pocket, slid out a twenty, and handed it to her. “Thanks for making me laugh, sweetheart. I needed it.”
“No problemo, Uncle Rowdy,” she said, snatching the bill from my hand. “Thanks for sponsoring my next T-shirt.”
Dusting myself off, I handed her the hoe and gave her another hug.
“Keep an eye on this city boy, Stevie-girl. Don’t let him go up any ladders.”
She giggled. “There’s zero chance of that happening. Kessie’s afraid of heights, didn’t you know?”
I smiled. “I did know.”
She leaned in conspiratorially. “He once tried to help Dad with Christmas lights and freaked out just four rungs up,” she said, not bothering to lower her voice.
“This disloyalty is noted,” Kess called out.
I pulled out my wallet again and gave her another twenty. “Worth every penny.”
Taking a deep breath, I turned to Kess. “I need to go into Austin.”
“You going to see Skylar?”
I shook my head. “Just a friend who needs help.”
“No worries,” he said, seemingly more careful with his words. “Stevie and I have it from here.”
I saluted them and headed across the way to my truck. As I was backing out of the driveway, I pulled up a call on Bluetooth.
“Oh God, Rowdy. Thank you for calling me back.”
Sadie was the mother of a kid I’d been mentoring through the youth program, and her text made me wonder if any of the things I’d discussed with her son had penetrated that thick skull of his.
“Has Jaxon been arrested?”
“Not yet,” she said, her voice falling apart.
“Let me speak to the manager.”
“Okay.”
“Hello?” a man said a few seconds later.
Something in the tone of his voice gave me hope.
“Hey, I know this is a shitty situation. I’m an hour out—can you keep him there if I promise to pay for the shoes?”
After a bit of a hesitation, the man said, “I haven’t put it into the system yet. If you’re not here in an hour, I’ll have to do it.”
