“You’ll have to forgive my mom. She’s from New England, where people are kind, but they aren’t nice.”
Jackson lifted an eyebrow in question. And I had to admit, I didn’t understand what Colleen meant either.
“How can you be kind but not nice?” I asked.
Colleen chuckled. “In New England, if you get a flat tire, people will stop and help you change it, but they’ll tell you how stupid you were for running over a nail in the first place. They’ll give you the shirt off their back to make sure you’re dressed but criticize you for not bringing an extra.”
I smiled at her analogy. “I guess that means Southerners are nice but not kind. ’Cause they are sweet as pie when they say,‘bless your heart,’knowing damn well the second you turn your back, they’ll take the knife they cut that pie with and stab you with it,” I added.
“Exactly,” Colleen said, pointing her finger at me.
Jackson chuckled, but Maureen was still watching him.
“Maureen?” I poked her arm to get her attention.
She sat back. “I’m sorry, there’s just something familiar about you. Where are you from?”
“Tennessee,” Jackson answered, clearly uncomfortable.
“And your parents?”
“Mom, leave the man alone.”
“I’m sorry.” Maureen shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts or knock loose whatever was nagging at her. She stood up from the table and went to the refrigerator to grab the tea.Filling a glass, she set it in front of Jackson. He looked at the glass and then at Maureen.
“It’s sweet. I don’t know how you all drink that shit. Fucking diabetes in a glass.”
I couldn’t help it; I threw my head back and laughed at the look on Jackson’s face. The door opened, and King walked in, sobering me up in an instant. I stood up from the table and moved to the far side of the room.
“Grace, can we talk?”
“Fuck you, King.”
“Grace,” he groaned. “It will only take a minute.”
“Sorry, I promised Colleen I’d get a coffee with her.” I glanced over at Colleen.
She must have seen the look in my eyes, because she added, “That’s right. She promised. She’s always working, so we haven’t had a chance to get to spend time together.”
“Johnny is still at the hospital,” King said.
“I don’t need a fucking babysitter.”
“Yes, you fucking do,” he countered. “And so does Colleen. I promised Duncan I’d keep her safe.”
“Then someone else can go with us.”
“Grace,” he growled.
“I’ll go,” Jackson offered.
“You’re fucking hurt. You aren’t going anywhere.”
I pulled out my phone and sent a text. When it beeped, I smiled. “Indie is going with us.” I grabbed Colleen’s arm and dragged her through the door of the kitchen before King could say another word.
As we left, I heard Maureen snap, “What the fuck did you do now?”
Colleen and I drove to Audrey’s coffee shop, with Mimic and Indie on his bike behind us. Colleen, Indie, and I went inside, while Mimic leaned against his bike outside watching the street.
