“She looks like she just got a nice railing, honestly,” my mother says, as if this conversation needs interjection. “Are you feeling rested, Wynona?” she asks with a smirk playing on her red-slicked lips. “Or well worked?”
That gets her my leveling glare.Nice, Mom.I know she has to be clued into the fact that I was just passed out in Birdie’s solarium for hours. It’s a packed room with more faces than the usuals sitting around the table—because, of course, this moment needs an even bigger audience.
On the other side of my mother is my Uncle Tommy, who quietly observes the chaos around him. My father’s brother has been putting up with our family for my entire life. He made it his business to step up into the role our father stepped out on.
Next to him is my youngest sister Jo, as she adds, “Nobody cares about the boots right now, Stevie.” She smiles at me likethe damn Cheshire cat, knowing all too well that she’s going to badger me for details about what our mother is talking about later.
My sisters are good at getting details. But nobody at this table knows everything—only the pieces I’ve allowed. Stevie and Jo are aware of what happened to me, the abbreviated version, but they don’t know the timeline of it all. Julian knows the woman who built herself up and landed as someone else entirely. But now, in the aftermath of it all, there isn’t a single person here who knows my entire story. It’s safer that way.
Next to Jo is Jameson Bishop. My brother-in-law’s father and someone I know my sister trusts. Having a contact within local law enforcement is protocol for returning from WITSEC, and Jameson now leads the county sheriff’s homicide team. He knows the formalities, the details of what the U.S. Marshals and authorities filed about my case. He never asked why I didn’t return sooner. It’s one of the things that’s always been likable about Jameson; he observes and rarely judges.
“You alright, Wyn?” he asks, brow pinched.
“She’s fine,” Birdie says from the head of the table, sipping casually on a glass of red. “Got swept up with something or...” she pauses, seemingly to search for the right word. “Someone.”
And as if she summoned him, Julian walks up next to me with his hands casually slung into his pockets, his hair swept into a half-up man bun, wearing a too tight T-shirt withThe Whispering Foollogo splashed across the front of it. Goose bumps fly up my arms at his proximity. He’s tall and broad, which adds to the appeal, along with that sexy, smug look framed by his meticulously managed facial hair. A current of warmth runs through me and settles at my center.
Theo stands up and starts a slow clap. “Wyn, on behalf of all of us...”
“Jesus, Theo,” Jameson says to his son, trying to cover up his amusement.
But both of my sisters join in with the clapping and exchange wide-eyed looks.
Stevie turns to Theo and mouths,What the fuck?
I know!he mouths back.
Everyone’s attention is on Julian when he says, “I am, disappointingly, none of the things Birdie just listed off, but it is nice to meet you all.” With his hand to his chest, he says, “Julian.”
“My name is Nash Thomas Crowne. And I like your hair,” my nephew chimes in. “Did you do that bun yourself, or did my mom help you? She’s really good at hair.”
“Thanks, baby,” Stevie says to him, and then raises her eyebrows at me.
“She was going to be a hairdresser,” Nash says over a mouthful of meatloaf. “That was after she was a country singer, but before the bar entertainer.”
Jameson, who’s usually fairly quiet when he comes around, sniffs out a laugh.
Stevie isn’t going to let that go. There’s something about Theo’s dad that sets her off like nobody else. “I’m sorry, is something funny about a woman changing her career to suit her lifestyle?”
“Dad...” Theo tries to get his dad to hold back, but Jameson keeps his attention on Stevie when he says, “I just hadn’t heard the term ‘bar entertainer’ before.” He winks at Nash.
“I’m not sure you would know what entertainment looked like even if it was naked and prancing right in front of you.”
My mother claps her hands, because obviously there wasn’t enough attention on her.
“Next to me, handsome,” she says, patting the empty chair I started moving toward.
Why are she and Birdie allowing Julian to join family dinner?
I rub at my forehead and close my eyes, trying to navigate the varying levels of shit I’ve been dealt today. The last thing I need is my mom reading between lines, the way she so stealthily does. It annoys the hell out of me that she seems more impressed at the insinuation that I was with Julian than when I had earned my PhD.
“Not so boring, after all, apparently,” she says to me with a side-eye, drumming up a reminder of the argument we had last night.
I might kill her.
“Lu,” Tommy says with a shake of his head. He tries to be a buffer, but Tallulah Crowne can be a real asshole when she wants to be. My mom knows exactly how to wield her weapons. She declared to my sisters and me at a very young age that Crowne women have superpowers in the form of great tits, snarky wit, and a knack for speaking truths with facial expressions alone. But now, I don’t think she knows what to say to me. A part of that is my fault, for not trusting her with all the details of what happened to me when I was gone. The truth is, I’m not sure she’d be able to handle it.
Before Julian moves to sit, he says, “Nash, it’s nice to meet you, man.” He holds out a fist for Nash to bump. “To answer your question, I did my hair myself.” Then he nods to me. “But your Aunt Wyn likes to play with it. Mostly mess it up,” he says with an audacious fucking smile on his face as he glances back at me.
