Before I can say anything, Fallon speaks: “Yes! Your idiot brother is driving drunk Gatlins home from the bar. Oh, and volunteering with them for the food drive.”
Roni looks to me, confusion in her eyes. “What is she talking about?”
I shrug. “Fuck if I know.”
That pisses Fallon off more. “Ugh! You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
I go about the barn, doing the things that need to be done as Fallon fills Veronica in on everything she knows about last night. Giving a lot of details that I don’t know how she’d already have, since I haven’t talked to anyone. Probably Mary Lou—she and Fallon are friends, so I’m sure she called her this morning.
I snort a laugh at the one part that is completely untrue, causing them both to stop and stare at me. “What? I didn’t dance with her.”
“No?” Fallon asks, reaching into her back pocket for her phone. She scrolls and pulls up a photo, then shows it to me.
“Oh, that was a barn dance.”
“The worddanceis in it, brother,” Veronica informs me.
“Did you hear that?” I ask.
“Hear what?”
“I think Sadie’s calling me. Bye.”
I walk out, leaving them both to stew.
Chapter 12
Lark
“Ugh, the sun is so bright,” I complain, my head on the dining room table as Momma moves around in the kitchen.
“The sun is bright because you were doing stupid things last night,” she fusses at me.
“I didn’t do anything stupid, Momma.”
Now, had I kissed Tristan, like I was going to, that would’ve been stupid. Thankfully, that didn’t happen, and I can go about my life without that being on my conscience.
“Lark,” she bristles, and I lift my head to see the censure in her eyes. Should’ve kept my head down. “You cannot be alone with that man.”
I drop my head back down, too tired to keep it upright. “Okay.”
She’s right. I can’t be alone with Tristan because when I am, I make poor decisions. I let him get in my head, and now he’s settled there.
All the time.
It’s rather annoying, if I say so myself.
“I mean it,” she warns.
“I get it.”
“I don’t think you do, love.” She sits beside me, brushing my hair back. “You know the history, and your father can’t handle it. He’s grateful that you made it home safe, which is why he didn’t yell, but…”
But he’s a Stone. He’s not supposed to be a man I even look at.
When she doesn’t continue, I peek up at her with one eye. “I understand, Momma.”
She smiles softly and runs her fingers through my hair. “All right. Do you want anything to eat?”
