Gin Fling (Bootleg Springs, #5)(8)

“You might as well confess,” Devlin warned me. “They’ll just pull out the single lightbulb, bag over your head routine otherwise.” He sounded like he spoke from experience.

But I didn’t like talking about Rene. It opened up too many feelings that would never have closure. “You guys don’t really want to hear about this,” I insisted.

“Now we really do,” Gibson insisted. He took one of the chairs in front of the jewelry case and spun it around backward, planting himself on it to wait me out.

“Her name was Rene,” I said reluctantly.

“Did she dump you for your best friend because she was pregnant with his baby?” Jameson asked.

“No. I mean, she did dump me, but she didn’t dump me for someone else.”

“Ouch. That’s the worst. Was it the whole ‘I need to focus on myself’ speech?” Bowie asked.

“No. She uh… we’d only been dating a short time when she found out—”

“That she was actually a man in a woman’s body?” Gibson filled in. “That did happen to me once. We didn’t sleep together, in case you were wondering. Just had a few drinks.”

“How is Tony?” Bowie asked.

“Doin’ great. Lives in Boise. Fishes every weekend. Two kids. Still get a Christmas card every year.”

“Back to Rene,” Devlin said, guiding us back to the topic I’d rather avoid.

“Can we come back to Tony?” I asked.

“Why’d she dump you?” Jameson asked.

“We’d only been dating a couple of weeks, and she found out she was sick.”

“Like a head cold or maybe herpes?” Bowie asked hopefully.

I shook my head. “No. Like cancer.”

“Shit,” Gibson said succinctly.

“Said she didn’t want me to have to take on her illness,” I said, trying to shrug off the memory. “Said she’d feel better if she didn’t have to worry about me worrying about her.”

“Man,” Jameson said.

“You never tried to talk to her after?” Bowie asked.

I wet my lips, hating this part of the story. “She, uh… she died. Five months to the day of our first date. We didn’t live together or anything. Didn’t even say I love you. But I really thought there was a future there, you know?”

They all nodded somberly.

The jeweler blew her nose noisily behind the counter. “I’m sorry for eavesdroppin’, y’all. But that is the saddest story.”

“I just haven’t felt like getting to know anyone since. I’m waiting ’til I feel better about it,” I told them.

There was more to it. My anger at her shutting me out. The helplessness at not being able to do a goddamn thing. The fact that the only thing I could do was respect her decision. The last time I saw her was for coffee right before her first last-ditch treatment. She’d held my hand and wished me “luck with everything” like I was little more than a stranger to her. The next time I’d laid eyes on her, she was in a church looking like she was asleep.

Two weeks later, I’d seen Jonah Bodine’s obituary, and Bootleg Springs started to sound like a good idea.

“Can we get back to buying rings?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

Devlin gripped my shoulder. Jameson punched me in the arm. Bowie pulled me in for a one-armed hug before releasing me again.

Gibson gave me a tight nod and some advice. “You might not want to tell Scarlett any of that. She’ll get it in her head that you need a woman.”

They all shuddered. “If she even gets a whiff of you being this sad, loveless puppy, she’ll be throwing every bachelorette in town at you,” Bowie agreed.

“I’m not a sad, loveless puppy,” I argued.

“Do you want to go grab a drink?” the jeweler asked me, her eyes glistening behind her glasses. “My place is just a couple blocks away, and I have a real nice box of wine.”

“Uh, thanks. Maybe some other time?” I told her.

Bowie took pity on me and changed the subject. “Jame, you want in on this action?” he asked, waving a hand toward the rings on the counter.

Jameson shrugged. “Nah.”

“You’re not thinking about proposing?” I asked, surprised. The way he looked at his girlfriend, Leah Mae, suggested otherwise.

“Oh, I’m proposing. And I’m doin’ it better than these two rookies. I’ve been working with a goldsmith. She’s helping me custom design a ring. I’ll actually do some of the work.”

“Well, fuck me,” Bowie complained. “Can we get some bigger diamonds here?”





*



Q. During a party, do you prefer to be in the center of the room or on the perimeter?



Opal Bodine: Depends where the bar and snacks are.





5





Jonah





“Hey, Mom,” I answered the call, steering my car into the town limits.

“Well, if it isn’t my long-lost son finally answering his phone,” my mom teased through the car speakers. She hadn’t been exactly thrilled with my sudden desire to move across the country to meet my half-siblings. But her desire to support me won out. She’d accepted my move reluctantly, but I’d been here so long she was starting to make noises about me coming back.