“In May?”
“He always has a team thing,” Riley pouts. “I never see him anymore. Except in bed when he wants loving.”
“Ah, the sufferings of a star quarterback,” I joke. “He’s going to get drafted as soon as he declares.”
“I know. It’s all he talks about.” Riley looks at me. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks, Riles. You’re so sweet.”
“Can’t believe it about Logan. I don’t know, I thought you two—”
I shoot her a look, and she stops talking and reaches for my hand instead.
“Your nails look like crap. You should come by the salon and let me fix you up.”
“Just because you got a cosmetology degree doesn’t mean you know everything about what looks good.”
“I’m the top make-up artist at the salon,” she argues. “I can do your nails better than they’ve ever been done before.”
“And Mama’s thrilled that her two oldest girls are self-sufficient,” Free says, looking between Riley and me as we barely resist warring with each other.
Free’s finished the batter now, and she pours it carefully into each cup in the baking tin. She opens the oven door just as Ben walks into the kitchen and beckons me outside with him.
I follow him because I can’t wait to get away from Riley, but as soon as he and I get outdoors, I start walking quickly to my car. If I can just get my keys out of my pocket and get to the door—
“I tried to call you.”
I stop moving. “I know. I’ve been busy. I’m sorry.”
“Busy with the news?” he asks me.
“News?” I don’t know why I’m playing dumb. He’s about to say it anyway, and sure enough—
“That Logan’s engaged.”
Ben says the words I detest hearing out loud. At least, not until I’ve adjusted to them myself, which may well be never.
Before I can get away, Ben bends his head and looks at me. “You look pale, Mace.”
I look at my little brother, at his open blue eyes and short dark hair, and I resist the urge to cry on his shoulder. “Yeah, well, I just met his fiancée.”
“I heard she’s blond and model-looking. Alexis was in town earlier—Logan’s brother was talking.”
I set Ben and Alexis up over two years ago now. And they’re not engaged yet.
“She’s a goddess,” I say.
“It sounds like an awfully quick engagement,” he says. “Kind of weird, don’t you think? Are you two even divorced yet?”
“Basically.” I exhale and change the subject. “So are you happy to be done with your first year of college? You always were a whiz with computer stuff. And Daddy says you’re going to be working at The Cowherd this summer, to learn about running a business. I’ll be thrilled to have you there. You starting this week?”
“Macey.” He tries to take my arm.
“I know you feel like your college experience doesn’t count because you’re still living at home. But I can tell you a grade is a grade, and a credit is”—I’m running out of steam and I struggle to get the last words out without choking—“is a credit.”
“You’re not okay.”
“No, I’m not. But I will be. Don’t worry.” I tell him goodbye and jump into my SUV.
