“I don’t think that made it better,” Kory mutters.
“Don’t be inappropriate in front of kids,” I mutter back.
“I’m not a baby,” June’s whispering to Maisey. “I know what innuendos are. Dad makes them in front of me all the time, and he’s been letting me watch R-rated movies since I was seven.”
Maisey’s smile is turning brittle. “He shouldn’t do that either. I’ll have a talk with him.”
“Like it matters. You’re never going to let me see him again.”
“Junie.I would never keep you—”
“You a senior this year?” Kory interrupts to ask June.
“Junior.”
“Ever do drama?”
“I play soccer.”
Fuck.
Kory’s gaze slides to mine once more.
Everyone’sgaze is landing on me.
Even the people in the tavern who are too far away to hear. They know a bomb just dropped.
“You any good?” Kory asks June.
She whips out her phone, and thirty seconds later, she’s shoving a video at us. “That’s me. Number forty-three. I have a kick that doesn’t stop, and I’ve terrified goalies in six different states.”
“As soon as we get Junie registered at the high school tomorrow, we’re finding the soccer coach to ask about tryouts,” Maisey says.
Kory looks at me.
I don’t look back.
June looks down at my shirt.
Jersey, to be more specific.
I don’t look at her either.
Or at Maisey.
Fuckagain.
“Bison burger, Flint?” Regina Perez asks as she pauses at the edge of our table. Her family’s been running Iron Moose since before Hell’s Bells was big enough to be a dot on the map. Dated her once upon a time for about five minutes my senior year of high school, but that didn’t work out.
She’s married with three kids now, and she picks up shifts here to get out of the house.
“Yeah. Onion rings, too,” I tell her.
“Oh, do you always get the same thing?” Maisey asks, either oblivious to the tension or willfully ignoring it. “We could’ve ordered for you if I’d known. I love little towns. And regulars. And everyone knowing everyone else.”
“Nope,” Regina answers for me. “He just gets this look when he wants a bison burger.”
“I do not.”
