He reached over, laced his fingers with mine, and squeezed.
And for the first time, I felt like we might be all right.
Chapter 20
Arsenal
Pearl’s Bar & Grill looked like a place that had been born old and gotten better every year since. Yellowed glass, battered wooden door, a crooked neon sign in the window that read “Open ’Til the Cows Come Home.” It sat right off the Dairyville courthouse square, the same place it had been since before the first Iron Valor patch got stitched. The parking lot overflowed with pickups and battered imports and one ugly, sky-blue Harley with a cartoon octopus on the tank—Gunner’s latest Frankenstein project.
The second I opened the door, the world hit me in the face: the tang of hickory smoke, fried onions, and a low, throbbingmix of country radio and football highlights. Friday night at Pearl’s meant every square inch was packed, but in the far corner, a long row of tables had been bolted together. That was us. The pack.
Bronc and Juliet sat at the head, Juliet’s hair a waterfall of gold, her belly round and radiant in a black cotton dress. Bronc had his hand on her back, thumb idly tracing the curve of her spine. I caught his eye, and he raised two fingers in greeting before pointing me to the empty seats halfway down. Wrecker and Parker were already parked across from them, Parker’s “Spicy Book Club” hoodie nearly glowing in the dim light, leggings stretched over the kind of ass that made a grown man lose a step mid-stride. Parker had her feet up on the seat beside her, a glass of whiskey balanced on her thigh. Wrecker, the contradiction; a monster of a man who’d rather read than fight, but he could kill you with his bare hands.
Big Papa and Aspen took up the next slot, Papa in his usual black thermal, Aspen in a sleeveless turquoise dress and a white cardigan she kept pulling over her hands. Oscar, the prairie dog familiar stood guard at her feet, only his inquisitive nose and two black eyes visible above the lip of her purse. Doc was next, crisp as a new scalpel in a checked shirt and jeans, his glasses catching every stray bit of light. Gunner sat between Doc and Bronc, a wolf among wolves, his boots caked in the mud of whatever field he’d run through on the way here.
Harper hesitated just inside the doorway, shoulders pulled up like she expected someone to lob a grenade at her. I felt it in my teeth—the old ache, the one that wanted to snap at anyone who looked at her wrong. I touched her elbow, soft. “They’re all glad you’re here,” I said.
She nodded, but her hand had a tremor in it as she tucked her hair behind her ear.
I guided her through the crowd. There was a beat where all the conversations at the table paused, every face tracking us in that hypervigilant way only a pack could. Then Parker called out, “Well, look who finally decided to show up!” and the table erupted, the tension snapping like an old rubber band.
We wedged in at the only open slot: Harper to my right, Doc to my left. She perched on the chair, ankles crossed, making herself smaller. I kept my arm over her chair-back, not touching, just staking the ground.
Menus got passed like hand grenades, drinks ordered by the pitcher. Pearl herself strolled over, hair in its usual silver helmet, and banged down two Mason jars of sweet tea. “I put the order in already,” she barked, “so don’t go messin’ up my system. And I want to see every plate clean, or you’ll have to answer to me.” She winked at Harper. “You too, sweetheart.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Baucaum,” Harper said, voice so pretty and careful it made Pearl beam.
“You got a good one here, Arsenal,” Pearl said, not bothering to hide it from the table. “Pretty and polite. About time you brought home something worth showing off.”
Wrecker snorted. “Yeah, we were starting to think he liked his rifles more than women.”
Parker poked him in the ribs. “He still might. You’ve seen the way he oils his barrels?”
There was a round of groans and laughter, and the table broke into the easy chaos of family—everyone talking over each other, stories and jokes ricocheting around like spent casings. Bronc kept a hand on Juliet, always. Aspen leaned into Papa, her hair blending with the plaid of his shirt. Gunner made a show of draining half a pitcher of Shiner, then offered some to Harper. She took a sip, face twisting, and set it down.
“How’s the bakery?” Parker asked Aspen, voice pitched to reach over the noise.
Aspen’s face lit up. “It’s been so busy I haven’t had time to catch my breath. Every Friday, the high school football team comes in and buys out the cinnamon rolls before ten. I have to hide an extra pan in the back for Oscar.” She looked at the prairie dog, who gave a solemn little bow.
Parker beamed. “That’s what you get for being the best in three counties.”
Harper smiled, the real thing this time, and I felt the win deep in my chest. Every time she let herself belong, I wanted to howl it from the roof.
Bronc raised his beer, voice carrying down the table. “Quick announcement before Pearl brings out the feast.” The table went still. “My son finished his service last week. Tyler’s coming home.”
There was a thunder of applause and a chorus of “Semper Fi!” from the old Marines at the other table. I saw the flicker of pride on Bronc’s face; the way Juliet leaned into him, eyes shining.
“That’s wonderful,” Harper said, soft. “You must be so proud.”
Bronc grinned at her, warm. “We are, ma’am. It’ll be good to have the whole family together again.”
Pearl returned, three pack members in tow, arms loaded with platters: brisket, sausage, fried catfish, mashed potatoes drowning in brown gravy, platters of biscuits. They stacked the table high, then vanished as quickly as they’d come.
The next fifteen minutes were all eating, hands and forks and stories of old times. Harper tried everything. She picked at the sausage, then went back for seconds, then thirds. She laughed at something Doc said, and for a moment, she leaned into my side, just a brush of skin, but I could have died happy.
Gunner gestured at Parker’s shirt. “Is that new?” he asked, mouth full.
She glanced down. “Yeah, ‘Spicy Book Club.’ Got it at the gas station in Amarillo. You like?”
