Gin Fling (Bootleg Springs, #5)(27)

My headlights caught the ghostly skeleton of construction. “Look at this,” I said.

Bowie and Cassidy reluctantly unlocked their lips in the back seat.

Under the light of the moon, we could see the beginning of a real house. The basement was poured, and the first floor was already partially framed. The bonfire was just getting started down on the shoreline. A dozen pickups and SUVs were already there. People were carting food and chairs and even a keg down to the fire. Music played through someone’s portable speakers.

When we parked, Shelby peeled off to talk to Hester Jenkins and Penny Waverly while Scarlett and Devlin gave the rest of us the grand tour.

“This here’s where we’re going to snuggle by the fire in the winter,” Scarlett said, pointing at the plywood. She grinned up at Devlin, who leaned in to wrap her up. Their future shined so bright. And again, I felt that sharp reminder that I was missing out on something. That I could have had something like this but it was taken away from me.

They’d positioned the house to take advantage of the lake views. What would be tall windows looked out in all directions, framing in trees and water and rolling hills. I could imagine them here. Could imagine Kitten Jedidiah skidding on the hardwood of the first floor in his reign of terror. I could see Christmas mornings here and birthday dinners.

Would I be here to see them?

Would Rene have liked it here? With her brunches and her cycling classes. Her art gallery visits. Would she have been happy here with me? With my family?

My throat felt tight.

While Gibson admired the quality of the construction, Jameson and Leah Mae asked a dozen questions about the floor plan. Bowie and Cassidy made out in a dark corner. Making up for lost time, I guessed.

I took the opportunity to slip out. I was happy for Scarlett and Devlin. Really happy. But I was also aware how far away I was from a future like this.

The night air was cooler now and scented with the hint of wood smoke.

I wandered in the direction of the flames, the chatter. Tried to find the party mood again.

I spotted her. Even in the dark, I could pick her out.

Shelby was standing on the outskirts of the fun, observing.

“Hiding out?” I asked, stepping up next to her.

She startled and slapped a hand to her chest. “Are you professionally trained as a ninja?”

“Order of the silent-footed,” I said seriously.

She nudged me with her shoulder. “Funny guy.”

She still looked tired.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

She lifted her lips in the ghost of a smile. “Everything’s just about perfect,” she confessed. “I really like this place.”

I crossed my arms so I wouldn’t give in to the urge to pull her into my side. Apparently, I was a mess of feelings today.

“It’s one-of-a-kind,” I commented.

“I think I like it so much I’m avoiding my dissertation. I have all the research I could possibly need. The survey answers are pouring in. The outline and hypothesis are set in stone. But every time I sit down to write it, I get wrapped up in the fun of collecting the information.”

“What are you going to do when you’re done with it?” I asked.

“I’m not really sure. I’m hoping to get a research job with a university or some academic organization.”

“Will you go back to Pittsburgh?” I pressed.

“I hope so. But I’m open to someplace new if the job fits. I don’t want to make any plans until I know where the job is, what the work is. What about you? Are you sticking around here?”

“I was just thinking about it. I haven’t decided. I have family here. But I don’t know if that makes it home.”

“What makes a place a home?” she asked.

“Are you analyzing me right now?” I teased.

“Aren’t you adorable? I analyze everyone.”

I nudged her, and we started for a pair of chairs on the edge of the action. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense, doc.”

“Don’t even jinx me like that, Jonah. That doctorate is within reach, but I sure as heck don’t have it yet.”

“Stop stalling. Tell me everything that’s wrong with me.”

She snort-laughed, and it chased the shadows out of my chest.

“First of all, there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re remarkably normal.”

“Considering?” I prodded.

“Considering that you grew up without a father,” she said.

That was probably high praise from someone with a background in psychology.

“Judging by how you interact with women,” she continued. “I would guess that your mother was strong, independent, but also loving. She taught you respect and didn’t let you feel like you were missing out on too much. How am I doing so far?”

I nodded slowly. “So far pretty spot on.”

She smiled smugly. “I thought so. Now, let’s dig below the surface.” She was warming to the topic.

“You show up here a week after the funeral of Jonah Bodine Sr., which suggests you were peripherally aware of him. Which in itself suggests you weren’t interested in developing a relationship with him. However, you were very much interested in meeting your half-siblings.”

“I spent most of my life hating Jonah Bodine,” I admitted. “In my mind, he ruined my mom’s life. She was working toward a degree. She could have had a career. Met a nice psychologist or lawyer or bartender. But he took that away from her.”