Holler Ever After

Boti

Being divorced was a whole lot less tragic than folks made it out to be.

Nobody cheated. Nobody threw anybody’s clothes onto the porch or went at ’em with a kitchen knife. Alonzo didn’t magically turn into an asshole after fourteen years together, and I sure as hell didn’t wake up one morning hating the boy I’d been loving since high school.

We’d just stopped being husband and wife somewhere along the way. Took us a while to admit we’d been holding on mostly for the kids, but once we did, staying married just to say we were married didn’t make a lick of sense.

So we became friends instead.

We separated on good terms and figured out how to raise our twins without making each other miserable. And I may or may not have kissed Alonzo’s new girlfriend, Thyrza, during one particularly dreamy night on the town.

Divorce was funny like that.

⊹ ─── ♡ ─── ⊹

It was Alonzo’s weekend with the twins, so I handed him a checklist.

“Camp starts next week. Make sure you get the youngsters their supplies, and then we’ll be straight.”

He looked down at the paper, then back at me.

“Why ain’t you gettin’ ’em this shit, Boti? You’re the mama, ain’t ya?”

“You’ve got an extra set of hands. I don’t.” I tipped my chin toward Thyrza, who smiled at me from behind her heart-shaped glasses.

“I reckon that makes sense, but I had a whole game plan. I was fixin’ to take Emmitt fishin’, then take Emmeline for ice cream.”

“So take ‘em both for ice cream after you get their supplies. The fish’ll still be bitin’ this evening, and I’m sure Thyrza’d gladly keep Emmeline company while you boys go.” I shooed him toward the door. “Now get goin’. I’ve gotta get to work.”

“I still ain’t know why you work there. You don’t need to. Family business is doin’ just fine.”

“I know.” I grabbed my checkered bag off the back of the chair. “I just need to do this, alright?”

“Let the girl explore,” Thyrza said. “Won’t take her long to remember she hates working and go right back to selling those little keychains she makes.”

I pointed at her.

“See? Thyrza gets it.”

“Alright, kids, let’s get to groovin’,” Alonzo called. “Your mama’s gotta get to work!”

He whistled, and the twins came to join him, each stopping to squeeze me tight before following him out.

“Love y’all!” I called from the porch as they climbed into Alonzo’s truck.

Thyrza lingered beside me, waiting until Alonzo turned his back before shooting me a look.

“Is he watching?”

“He’s busy loadin’ up the truck. Why?”

She stepped closer and kissed me before I could get another word out.

“Have a good day at work, Boti.” She smiled, then put her bubbalicious back in her mouth. “I’ll keep Alonzo and the kids in line.”

Then she hopped off the porch, her flowy skirt catching the breeze, and hurried up behind Alonzo barefoot. She caught his arm and tugged him around for a kiss while the twins waved at me from the back seat.

I waved back, grinning.

Now, I’m sure you’ve got questions, and truth be told, I didn’t care much for putting labels on any of it. We worked as one family unit, and that included Thyrza, too.

So, yes, I swung both ways. And yes, Thyrza was gorgeous. I could damn well see why Alonzo chose her, and I reckon it wasn’t hard to understand why I liked her, too.

Their relationship was theirs, though. Established. With the kids around, we kept things simple. No sense confusing Emmeline and Emmitt just because the grown folks in their lives liked colouring outside the lines every now and again.

With the twins going away for the summer, though?

Well.

We were free to do whatever the hell we pleased.

Folks would talk. Folks around here always talked. Give ’em half a reason, and they could make a whole afternoon out of somebody else’s business.

As far as I was concerned, they could mind their own.

There wasn’t any bad blood between Alonzo and me. Plus, I couldn’t picture him with anybody better than Thyrza, and I meant that. She fit him. She fit us, too, in her own bizarre little way.

That didn’t mean I never got lonely.

Some nights, I’d crawl into bed by myself, stretch one foot across the cold half of the mattress, and remember that my ex-husband had himself a beautiful woman curled up in his.

And yeah.

Sometimes that stung a little.

But then I’d think about how I was free now. Free to experience life. Free to enjoy all those little things I never got the chance to do.

I was a wife before I was twenty-one. Hell, I’d never even had a drink at a club because I was pregnant two weeks after getting married. Alonzo was all I knew. I had no experience outside of him.

So maybe I needed to be taught a thing or two.

That didn’t bother me none.

I had a whole lot of love to give, and I tried my damnedest to be a kind, caring person even when my world felt like the pits.

But I got up every day anyway.

Did my thing.

Kept moving.

And I reckoned that was alright.

I locked the trailer behind me, keys jingling in my hand, then climbed into my yellow Volkswagen Golf Cabriolet.

Top down, I backed out and headed toward work, letting the Appalachian wind whip through my hair as I followed the dirt road.

⊹ ─── ♡ ─── ⊹

Fifteen minutes later, I pulled into the Bloodroot Grill & Taphouse and parked my ass in the Employee of the Month spot I’d rightfully earned.

Once the Cabriolet’s top was back up and the doors were locked, I grabbed my bag from the back seat and my giant mason jar of pickle lemonade.

I clocked in and was about to set up the pickle lemonade when Solana caught me at the kitchen doors.

“You’ve got eight through fifteen. Yonna’s on one through seven, and Zora’s got sixteen through twenty-two.”

I nodded, placed the lemonade on the counter, tied up my hair, put on my apron, and headed for my first table.

The man and woman sitting there looked like they’d gotten into a tiff about five minutes before I walked up.

“Hey, y’all. I’m Boti, I’ll be—”

“Bet you like looking at that waitress, don’t ya?” the woman muttered under her breath.

I halted, pen poised on my notepad.

The man closed his eyes for half a second. “Woman.”

Then he looked up at me. “Could you give us a minute?”

“No,” she snapped. “She’s here to take our order, and if I’m being forced to spend time with you, I’d like to get this done and over with.”

Well, alright then.

She looked at me. “I’ll have a lemon water. He’ll have a beer.”

I glanced at him.

He looked like he wanted something considerably stronger.

“What are your specials today?” he asked.

Apparently, that was the wrong question, because his woman lost her shit.

I excused myself to the back to grab their drinks, but before I could make it across the floor, a fella walked in.

He moved slowly, almost prowling, like some lone wolf that’d wandered down out of the mountains. Long, coppery hair swept back from his face and fell past his shoulders, framing a harsh jaw and a porny little mustache that had no business looking that sexy on him. His boots thudded against the oak floorboards as he crossed to the jukebox, slipped in a dime, and headed for the pool table.

Lord have mercy.

Holy Water by Bad Company poured from the speakers.

I had no earthly idea how long I stood there staring.

Long enough, apparently.

His icy blue eyes found mine from across the room, and I swear my heart dropped straight out of my ass.

He cracked the smallest smile.

Then he bent over the table, lined up his shot, and sent the cue ball cracking into the others.

Well, shit.

“Hey, Boti, can you help me run this to table two?”

Yonna’s voice snapped me back to reality.

She stood beside me, balancing two trays despite her very pregnant belly.

“Sure. No problem.”

I forced my eyes away from the hunk at the pool table and took the heavier tray from her, giving her belly a little pat as I did.

“Your mama stresses me out,” I told the baby.

Yonna laughed as we headed toward table two, where a group of college-aged boys were crowded into a booth.

One of them looked up at her. “Shoo, Yonna, you’re about to bust. Why’re you still workin’ this far into your pregnancy?”

“Somebody’s gotta make money while my man’s in college.”

“Ain’t you wanna go to college?”

“I do, but I ain’t here to give y’all a TED Talk.” She shifted the tray against her hip. “Tip good, use protection, and enjoy your meals.”

Then she looked at me.

“Burger goes to the brunette. Tenders to the redhead.”

I passed out the plates, then remembered I still had a table waiting on drinks.

Shit.

I broke away from the budding conversation and headed toward the back, sneaking another glance at the pool table as I went.

Empty.

Well, damn.

I grabbed the lemon water and beer, carried them out, and found the unhappy couple clearly done with one another for the evening.

“That’ll be all,” the woman said. “Just bring us the check.”

I blinked.

“Sure thing.”

I handed it over, they paid, and I was headed toward the bar to pick up Zora’s order when I spotted him again, sprawled across one of the stools like some god.

He lifted two fingers to get Bart’s attention.

Bart slid a whiskey his way, then went right back to flirting with the group of moms posted up at the other end of the bar.

And against my better judgment, my eyes wandered right back to the stranger.

He was trying to whistle Bart down again, but Bart was too busy damn near sliding himself across the bar, spilling half a drink down his shirt in some sorry attempt to squeeze a bigger tip out of those women.

I reckoned it was the male version of that Coyote Ugly bar-dancing scene.

The stranger whistled again.

Nothing.

So I sighed, set my tray down, and wandered over.

“Somethin’ wrong with your drink?”

He held the glass out toward me. “Yeah. Asked for whiskey, but this shit tastes like piss.”

I took it from him and sniffed it.

Mostly water.

“Lord.” I rolled my eyes toward Bart. “He’s cheap as hell. Won’t open a fresh bottle till he absolutely has to. Just keeps watering ’em down and hoping folks are too drunk to notice.”

His brow lifted.

“Seriously?”

“Unfortunately.”

I ducked behind the bar, snatched a fresh bottle from the shelf underneath, cracked the seal, and poured him a proper glass.

“There.” I slid it toward him. “On the house.”

He took a sip.

This time, the corner of his chops curled up.

“Better.”

“Figured.”

His icy gaze held mine for another second before he picked up his glass and wandered back toward the pool table without another word.

And there I stood.

Tray in hand.

Grinning like some bashful little dumbass.