Page 6 of Chasing Callie

My stomach flips at the mention of the brothers. “We were kids.” I take another step back.

The vein in his forehead bulges. He fires a shot. I scream, heart threatening to jump out of my chest. Luckily, the bullet goes wide and hits a bag of chips. Either he sucks or he’s trying to scare me. He’s doing a damn good job of the latter. I throw the sour candies at him before racing out of the store. I yank the pump out of my car.

He runs out, gun in hand, the fucking psycho. There are cars zipping by, but I don’t trust him not to fire.

“This isn’t over!” he screams.

“Fuck you, Larry!” I hop in my Rav-4 and peel out of the parking lot.

I steady my racing heart then take a deep breath before chuckling to myself. Jesus Christ, this place is already bad news. I head into the heart of town, already bracing for the rumor mill. In a place like this, news—especially the bad kind—travels faster than light. By sundown, everyone in town will know I came crawling home with maxed out credit cards and already picked a fight with Larry.

Coming back is quickly turning into a disaster, but Big Ridge is the only place that makes sense. The only place, despite all the gossip and craziness, that I’ll feel safe.

The mountain road curves and winds around slopes covered in tall trees fighting for their life against the Virginia creeper. The vines crawl up the trunks, coil around the branches, slowly choking the life out of the trees. Kind of like Theo did to me.

I tap my finger as I wait for the procession of cars to move forward, counting as many as I can, grounding myself in the moment and not in the past. It would be easier to forget everything if I wasn’t stuck in barely moving traffic. Tourist season means a typical five-minute trip could take anywhere from fifteen minutes to an hour or more. Depends on how stupid people from the city drive on the treacherous mountain roads. Most are overly cautious and that’s almost worse than them driving fast.

Nothing like plowing into the back of an SUV going fifteen in a forty-five.

“Come on,” I grumble as the sign for Maura’s place comes into view. I need a job and fast. Not only did Theo steal my art, but he also racked up debt on all my credit cards. Something I didn’t realize until five minutes ago when traffic came to a complete halt and I had time to check my banking apps. Somewhere between me leaving New York and reaching the Smoky Mountains, he decided to royal fuck me over.

Charge after charge that I didn’t make. Shopping, payments to his friends, porn site charges. I stupidly programmed my cards into his phone because it was easier if he had access to them. I forgot all about that in my rush to leave NYC. I really hope Theo gets crushed by a falling piano.

God, I was so dumb. Yeah, he was hot, but I let him strip me of my identity and use me all because I was so desperate to belong to someone, to have that same sort of bond I had with the Williams brothers before everything went to hell.

The traffic surges forward, and I follow, jerking the wheel to the right and pulling into the parking lot. I get out and stretch, taking in the handful of cars parked in front of the rustic, log cabin building. The Bar is notorious for three things: good beer, amazing food, and even better music. It’s a tourist trap through and through. Designed to deliver exactly what they want.

Small town, country vibes complete with employees wearing checkered shirts and boots. It’s obnoxious in a way, but everyone knows The Bar is where the money’s at. I head inside, pausing to let a delivery driver with a dolly full of cases of beer enter first. The guy nods at me, does a double take, and whistles long and low, stopping right at the threshold.

“Dammmmnnn, Callie. Looking good.”

I squint and take him in. Crooked nose. Lopsided grin. “Emmit?” The compliment from him goes further than he probably knows. Theo sure did a number on my confidence. Fucking asshole.

“Who else?” he asks with a wink. “The boys know you’re back?”

My pulse jumps. Relax, Callie. Maybe you won’t even run into them. I shrug. “I suppose they will now. Still have a big mouth?”

“No bigger than yours when you talk shit.”

Grinning, I shake my head. “How’s your granny?” She always made the best lemonade and chocolate chip cookies.

He blinks and his smile falls a little. “She passed away last April.”

Shit. I’ve missed some things while I’ve been away. “I’m so sorry,” I say quickly. “She was amazing.”

“She really was,” he says, sighing and looking through the door. Maura is shouting some orders, not because she’s mean, simply because that’s how Maura talks. “I guess I should get to it before the boss lady notices I’m slacking.”

I chuckle. “Just smile and she won’t be mad for long. It was nice seeing you.” I mean it. Not everyone in Big Ridge is on my shit list. It’s actually pretty short: Larry, Penelope, and the Williams brothers. I follow after Emmit, watching as Maura and her line cook bicker back and forth before they notice they have company.

Maura spots Emmit first and smirks, eyes shifting toward me and immediately widening. “Hot damn! Who’s this hottie? Don’t tell me this is your girlfriend, Emmit. She’s too pretty for you.”

“Oh, come on, Maura. I’m not looking for a death warrant,” Emmit grumbles. There are only three reasons he’d be worried about what she said.

Knox, Jax, Brax, and all the trouble that comes with messing around with what they consider theirs.

As far as I’m concerned, me and the guys are nothing, so I feign ignorance.

Maura takes me in from behind the bar. There’s a backlit mirror behind the shelves of liquor that changes color. The red light switches to pink, making Maura’s graying blonde hair look pink, too.