Home safe.
Bronwyn considered that phrase as they ate. Granny had fried pork tenderloin and eggs, sliced tomatoes that had to have come from her garden, gravy, biscuits, and homemade muscadine jelly.
Home safe.
Had she ever been safe?
Had she ever been home?
She didn’t have answers to those questions. Or maybe it was that she refused to acknowledge the ones flittering around on the edge of her consciousness. Regardless, she set it aside for now.
This was her favorite meal. Did Granny know that? It seemed like the kind of thing Granny would have tucked away in her memory banks and pulled out now, when Bronwyn needed comfort in the worst way.
Food hadn’t always been her friend, but in Granny’s kitchen, even the food felt safe. She had seconds of everything as they caught up on all the family news, which some might wrongly call gossip, but she wasn’t one to judge.
Aunt Minnie blew through at one point with a big smile for Bronwyn and a long hug for Mo before she left to watch a show. She hadn’t understood the delay and had eaten before they arrived. As she watched a prince get tossed into the water on TV, her laughter made for a fun backdrop to their conversation—a conversation that painstakingly ignored several elephants in the room.
“We have to head into town.” Mo pushed back from the table and rubbed his stomach. “Gray wants to talk to us.”
“Dare say he does.” Papa Quinn took a sip of his coffee. “You got any ideas on who shot at you?”
“Got plenty of ideas, Papa,” Mo said. “The problem is figuring out which ones are the real problems and which ones Bronwyn can fix by firing their sorry selves.”
Papa winked at her. “Take it from an old man, sweetheart. Fire the ones that won’t work or make mistakes and pass the blame. Promote the ones that work hard as long as when they make mistakes, they own them.”
“I’d like to fire the lot of them.” Bronwyn refused to think about the possibility that her family was even now removing her from her position.
“Why don’t you?”
“I’ve been trying not to alienate my family.”
“How’s that been working for you?” Papa Quinn had never been one to miss an opportunity for a pointed discussion.
“Not well, sir.”
He leaned toward her and patted her hand. “That’s okay. You’re young. Plenty of time to get it sorted.”
“I hope you’re right.”
But she feared time had run out.
Thirty
Mo sat in the passenger seat of the Jeep and texted Aunt Carol.
How long until I can drive?
It wasn’t that he cared if Bronwyn drove his Jeep. Much. It was that he wanted to be the one behind the wheel in case some fool tried to run them off the road. Now that they were off Quinn land, his protective instincts were coming in rapid-fire, and he was not enjoying the experience.
They made it to the police station without any issues, and when they walked inside, Mo took Bronwyn’s hand. “You okay?”
She looked at the new arrangement of wooden flowers Meredith had made for the front office area. “Am I supposed to be okay?”
Fair enough. “I don’t guess so.”
Gray called them back then. He took one look at Mo and his eyes widened. “Whoa. I wasn’t expecting that, man.” He pulled him into a bro hug that carefully avoided putting any pressure on his stitches. Then he tugged on Bronwyn, and she went into his arms. He squeezed her close. “Meredith made me promise to give you a good hug. She’s up to her eyeballs in some kind of dentalemergency, but she says we’ll be at the firepit tonight and she’ll see you then.”
They both sat at the small table in Gray’s office. He joined them with a stack of files. “I’ve already spoken to Katrina this morning. She’s at work and says she’s okay but will be taking advantage of the spa’s hot tub and sauna this afternoon.”
