“Doyle mentioned he had a sister,” Charlie said, his tone low and grouchy. “Didn’t realize she was the type to lurk in the shadows, breaking into places after hours.”
I straightened, lips parting, ready to fire back—but he kept going. “So. You’re crashing here for a while, figuring things out?”
It wasn’t hostile. Not really. But there was an obvious edge underneath it. A warning. Like,don’t come in here and blow up their lives.
Dig set his drink down with a little more force than necessary. “You make it sound like she crawled in through a window. Doyle invited her. She belongs here.”
Charlie’s brow ticked up. “Didn’t say she didn’t belong here. It’s just funny that Doyle left out the part about her proclivity for breaking and entering. Especially with a baby on the way.”
My pulse jumped. The sting hit quick—like someone squeezed lemon juice over an open cut.
I let out a dry laugh. “Well, sorry I didn’t introduce myself with a PowerPoint. Would you like a printed itinerary of all my failures, or should we go with bullet points?”
“Well, a PowerPoint would have been a hell of a lot neater than you attempting to break into your brother’s shop and then… well, you know the rest.”
Magnolia shot Charlie a pointed look but didn’t comment. Instead, she turned to me. “What do you do, Tally? If you’re looking for some temp work while you’re in town, I have a few connections.”
I hesitated. “I’m sort of… in between things right now.”
Dig rolled his eyes. “Don’t let her blasé tone fool you. She’s talented in that New York kind of way where she could doten things brilliantly but chooses to do one incredibly well and pretend it’s no big deal.”
He turned to Magnolia. “She’s a photographer—one of the good ones. The kind who sees people—like, really sees them. Even when they wish she wouldn’t.”
My throat tightened again, this time for a different reason.
Magnolia leaned back against the bar, tapping a finger to her chin like she was chewing on a thought. After a few beats, her eyes lit up.
“Lee’s playing at this charity gig his mom, Eunice, is putting on for the Daughters of Savannah Civic Society. I’m bartending, Charlie’s showing a piece, Doyle and Jordan are handling refreshments, and Sutton’s catering. A photographer is the missing piece.”
Beside her, Charlie groaned and dragged a hand down his face.
She shot him a look. “Not a word from you. Eunice owes me a favor anyway.” Then she turned back to me, eyes glinting. “You brought your camera to Savannah, I hope?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but Charlie beat me to it.
“Shouldn’t you run this by Doyle and Jordan first?” he asked, not unkind but cautious, like I needed permission to be alive.
My stomach twisted, and heat rose in my cheeks before I could stop it.
“Well,” I said, plastering on a brittle smile. “When you get in touch with my handlers, let me know. In the meantime, I have my camera. I always do.”
I turned on my heel, scooping up my bag. “Come on, Dig.”
He scrambled after me, clutching his drink like a talisman. “Wait up. You forgot your emotional support person.” He turned back to the bar, waving dramatically at Magnolia. “Can I get this in a to-go cup? Savannah’s open-container laws are the only thing keeping me upright right now.”
The door swung shut behind us with a bang that echoed louder than I meant it to.
Chapter Seven
CHARLIE
Thebardoorslammed,rattling the frame and the bell that was barely clinging to life above it.
Through the warped glass, I caught Dig—Tally’s pint-sized sidekick—planting himself in the window like a Broadway villain, both middle fingers raised in a curtain-call flourish. His grin was wide and feral, the kind that comes from equal parts drama club training and a lifelong commitment to petty vengeance.
Tally appeared behind him, catching his arm and hauling him back with a sharp tug. She lingered for a beat, long enough for our eyes to catch through the glass.
Her face wasn’t furious anymore. The anger had drained out, leaving only a hint of sadness in its place. Or disappointment—like I’d confirmed something she’d already suspected.
