Lucky’s had been in operation when Gabriella lived in Heartache, but at that time, there hadn’t been any “Back Porch” events. As she neared the park that backed up to the store, she could see kids running around on the playground near the gazebo while moms clutched disposable coffee cups. A bunch of white lights hung from low tree branches, and a handful of patio heaters lined the tables on the wide deck. No doubt those would all be in use after sunset, but right now her phone weather app showed sixty-four degrees.
A handful of musicians joked around on a sound system, running mic checks and tuning instruments. She thought she recognized one of the Finley brothers—Mack, she guessed—helping haul a large amplifier out of a pickup truck bed and into position near the temporary dance floor set up on the grass. Someone else jogged out to him with a long lead cord, and as soon as that was hooked up, the sound check became clearer. The musicians cheered, breaking into a spontaneous bluegrass riff to celebrate.
“Gabriella!”
Hearing her name called from the direction of the main building, she peered through a small crowd setting up foodstands. More pickup trucks were parked there with tailgates down, spilling out cases of beer and soda, stacks of rolls, paper goods and coolers. Overhead, she spotted a handmade banner reading Happy Reunion Hasting Family strung between two tall trees, but didn’t see anyone she knew.
Until a pair of khaki-clad legs climbing down a ladder turned into a whole person.
Her brother, Zach.
She quickened her step toward him and he did the same, artfully dodging a couple of people who shouted greetings his way and looked like they would have stopped to talk.
No surprise to her, Heartache’s mayor was a popular guy around here.
“Hey, sis.” Reaching her, he pulled her in for a hug and tugged her ponytail as if she was twelve. Not that she minded. She had always adored her big brother. “It’s the first time all week I’ve seen you without a certain someone glued to your side. Figured I’d better get my hug in fast.”
“I couldn’t hold Sam’s hand anymore, now could I? Amy Finley would have my head,” she joked, linking arms with Zach and strolling with him to a quieter part of the lawn outside the setup frenzy. Of course, her long-ago crush on Zach’s best friend was hardly a secret. “Clay has been really good to be with me through this whole week of court.”
She’d gladly accepted a role in helping him get to know Mia in exchange for his company during the trial, welcoming Clay into the in-law accommodations each day even though he could have stayed in the main house. They’d fixed dinners together. Laughed together.And after Mia went to her room for the night…they’d wound up in Gabriella’s bed more evenings than not.
“You didn’t have to attend the trial, you know,” Zach reminded her.
“Yes, I did.” She understood that more with each passing day of testimony against Jeremy Covington, with each exhibit showing how he’d targeted young women, but also accessible women who wound up in his quarry alone at night. “I wish I could have spoken out against him in court, but at least my testimony is on file. Part of Exhibit 3-A, right?” She squeezed his arm lightly. “I need to see him convicted. Close up.”
They paused at a random picnic table someone must have dragged too far to one side of the park area. They took a seat beside each other so they could face the reunion proceedings.
“I wish you didn’t have to go through any of it, but I’m glad it sounds like you’re doing okay during the trial.” Zach’s jacket fell open as he took a seat, because—true to his well-dressed nature—he wore khakis and a navy blazer while the rest of the world was in cargo pants and long-sleeved tees. “And I was only teasing about Clayton. I couldn’t be happier to see him beside you in court every day. No one should have to go through this without as much support as possible.”
“How’s Heather doing?” she asked, curious about the hint of sadness she heard in her brother’s voice.
“She’s handling it well mentally and emotionally.” Gently he pounded the heel of his hand against the wooden bench as he spoke, a soft thump that reverberated through her. “Physically? She’s going through a rough patch with the autoimmune stuff.”
Zach’s fiancée had been diagnosed with rheumatoidarthritis—or rheumatoid disease—Heather had told her in an email recently when she explained more about it. The condition had hit her fast and hard.
“I’m so sorry to hear it. No matter how strong she is emotionally, the physical part has to be really draining.” She covered Zach’s hand—the one closer to her—with hers.
“She wanted to be here today. Was hoping to play a set this afternoon, in fact.” He pounded harder against the bench before releasing a breath. “But she’s exhausted and her fingers are flaring up so it hurts to play guitar. I didn’t want to leave her, but?—”
“I’m sure she wanted you to be here.” Gabriella hated to think of Zach’s vibrant fiancée hurting like that. It seemed so unfair to have a disease that compromised her ability to play an instrument when she was so incredibly talented. “And maybe it’s easier for her to sleep when she’s on her own.”
“I ended up getting us a house in Franklin for the rest of the week, hoping she’d be more comfortable.” He shrugged and looked more lost than she’d ever seen him. “I hate not knowing how to help.”
Touched, she tipped her head to his shoulder and wished there was something more she could do. Anything. But there wasn’t. Sometimes comfort and support had to be enough.
“Of course you do.” She thought about how many times he’d taken care of her. “You’re the best at fixing things for me. The older I get, the more I realize how kick-ass you were to get me out of Heartache and…make sure I stayed safe.”
Not just from Jeremy Covington. But from herself. Her despair.
None of which she had to spell out for Zach. He understood her like no one else.
Wordlessly he kissed the top of her head. She smiled for a moment, until it occurred to her that he was comforting her—again—when she needed to step up and comfort him. She straightened. Held his hand while the band on stage warmed up their vocals with an acapella tune that traveled over the sound system.
“If you could fix me and all my issues when you were barely eighteen, then I promise you, you’re going to be everything Heather Finley could want in a supportive partner and more.” She gripped his shoulders when he didn’t look at her after her declaration. “Zach, I mean it.”
“She’s not like you, Gabby. She’s so damn…independent. So tough to accept help.”
Ouch. And double ouch.
