“Always knew the poor Mothman was just tryin’ to help,” Rhett chuckled.
Beau had stopped staring at the chupacabra hunter, laughing softly at the rest of us as he sipped hiscoffee. As if remembering there was business other than cryptids to take care of, Delilah suddenly nudged Beau, almost knocking his coffee clean out of his hands.
“So,” Delilah said. “Now that Silas and June are officially engaged…I guess you’re next on the chopping block, huh?”
Beau rolled his eyes. “Why does everyone keep sayin’ that?”
“Because Rhett was first, Silas was second…you’re next,” Delilah shrugged. “Then Whit, if anyone would ever takethatproject on.”
Whit snorted. “Gee, thanks.”
Delilah smirked over the rim of her sweet tea. “I’m just saying. Some brave soul might be out there prayin’ for the strength to civilize you.”
“I’m extremely civilized,” Whit replied. “I floss.”
“Once a week doesn’t count,” Beau muttered.
Silas grinned into his mug. “Honestly, I think we’d have better luck marrying him off to Bigfoot. Less likely to sue for emotional damages.”
“I’ll have you know I’m very emotionally available,” Whit said. “I once cried during a Budweiser commercial. I even made Delilah a friendship bracelet last week.”
Delilah plucked at a beaded string hanging from her wrist. “He did—stopped by the library during arts and crafts day and ended up participating. It saysGet Wrecked.”
“In gold lettersand everything,” Whit winked. “You’re welcome.”
I exchanged a look with Silas, both of us quietly entertained by the familiar rhythm of it—Delilah pretending to be unimpressed, Whit pretending he didn’t care more than anyone else at the table. I’d only been part of this family a short time, but I already knew exactly how that story was going to go.
“You know,” Willow said, shifting Hazel to her other knee, “I think Beau’s lady is gonna be wild. Like…lives-in-a-truck, moon-worshipping, roadkill-collecting wild.”
“You say that as if you and June aren’t equally wild,” Rhett teased, reaching out to stop Hazel from diving headfirst into a bowl of grits.
Willow raised her eyebrows. “I don’t collect bones.”
I was about to interject and defend myself as well, but anextremelyloud growl of frustration distracted each of us—even Hazel, who looked out the window with wide eyes, mouth gaping. There was a dark-haired, blue-eyed girl outside looking desperately into the smoking engine of her car, her phone clutched in her hand like she was looking for a Youtube tutorial on how to get the fuck out of Willow Grove.
And on her bumper?
A sticker that said:
I WORSHIPPED THE MOON TODAY! THAT’S WHY THE SEA HASN’T CONSUMED US!
Beau didn’t seem to notice the sticker; he was already standing up, making Whit and Delilah move so he could help out.
“Y’all,” Delilah started, but Beau was already halfway to the door, playing mechanic.
Not knowing he might just be strolling right into fate.
“Do we think he’s going to help her fix the car or propose marriage on the spot?” Willow asked, sipping her coffee.
“Both,” Whit said, “in that order.”
Hazel banged her tiny fist against the table in solidarity.
We let Beau have his moment.
Or more accurately, we all leaned into the booth and pretended we weren’t watching him charm the girl with the moon-worship bumper sticker while she visibly questionedwhether accepting help in Willow Grove would result in a blood pact or a marriage license.
Delilah stole Beau’s abandoned biscuit and dragged it through the last of Whit’s gravy.
