Chapter 29
Twenty-Nine
Mo’s phone beeped with an incoming text. He stared at it in shock.
Bronwyn, eyes puffy and bloodshot, blinked a few times. Then his mom’s voice came through the phone. “I did not say that. I mean, I did. Look, I’m tired, and this has made me very emotional, because it’s not every day your son calls to say he’s been shot.”
“Thank goodness for that,” his dad said in the background.
“But I’ve been praying for so long for the two of you to have some kind of reconciliation, and listening to you over the phone . . .”
“She’s crying again.” Dad blew out a breath and was back to business. “I assume Gray is all over this.”
“As far as I know. It was a long night. We got up a few minutes ago and there’s been some drama with Bron—” He stopped himself.
He’d almost said Bronwyn’s family, but they didn’t deserve that title right now.
“With the Pierces, so we haven’t talked to him yet.
We’re supposed to have brunch with Papa and Granny in a little while. ”
“Your granny will want to see you for herself,” his father said.
“Just like your mother will be banging on your door as soon as we roll into town tomorrow.” A loud airport announcement paused all conversation.
“We need to board. We don’t want to miss our flight.
They’ve changed our itinerary again.” He sighed heavily.
“I’ll forward you the new flight schedule when we settle.
And we’ll call when we reach our next stop. And, Mo?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Good job, son. Couldn’t be prouder.”
And now Bronwyn was crying again. Shoot. He might join her if his dad didn’t hang up soon. “Thank you, sir.”
“We love you both so much,” his mom said. “Please be safe. Be careful. And, Bronwyn, I need to see you with my own eyes too.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Bronwyn’s response overlaid his.
“Love you, Bronwyn.” His dad’s response caught Mo off guard, although he wasn’t sure why. Especially after what he’d learned this morning.
“Love you too. Both of you.” Bronwyn swallowed hard and swiped at a tear. “Be safe. We’ll see you soon.”
They disconnected the call, and Mo turned to her. “That was . . .”
“Yeah.” Bronwyn looked around the room for a tissue. “Um, are we in trouble with Granny now?”
“No.” Mo rubbed a hand over his stubble. He needed to shave. “I texted them and Aunt Carol while you were, um, indisposed.” He’d hoped she hadn’t noticed and apparently she hadn’t.
“Oh good. What’s the new plan?”
“The new plan is that you take a quick shower here. I’ll run to my place and shower and shave.
” And find some dry clothes because his tear-soaked shirt was starting to annoy him.
“I’ll let Aunt Carol know she can come on over.
When she’s done with us, we’ll let Granny know.
She said she’d hold off on the biscuits until we were en route. ”
“Do you want to let Meredith and Aunt Carol know that your parents know? Or should I do that?”
“I’ll do it. Won’t take but a second.” He looked around the room. “Are you okay for me to go? I can wait.”
She swiped a tissue and blew her nose. “No, go on. I’m okay. You have this place locked down like Fort Knox. We’re safe here. And if we get ready at the same time, we can go to Granny’s and then move on with the day.”
“Okay.” He hated to walk away from her. But she was right. And the sooner he got himself pulled together, the sooner he could be back with her.
And, yeah, he knew how bad that sounded, even in his own head. He knew that he and Bronwyn should take things slow, but he didn’t seem to be capable of that. He was in big, big trouble.
Bronwyn kept both hands on the steering wheel of Mo’s Jeep as they drove to Papa and Granny Quinn’s. Her head hurt. Her heart hurt. Her eyes—there was no hope for them. They looked like blistered tomatoes.
Mo pecked away on his phone as she drove. “Okay, everyone’s been notified. Gray says for us to come to the police station after brunch. Meredith says we took one for the team and she’s proud of us. Cal says Landry needs to see you so we’re to let them know when we’re done at Gray’s.”
“Why does Landry need to see me?”
“I would assume for the same reason everyone in my family needs to see you. To confirm that you’re alive and unharmed. Or, well, uninjured. Wrong words. Not shot.”
“I wasn’t harmed or injured. Why didn’t those words work?”
“I’m sorry. I . . . you have been harmed. Maybe not physically. But emotionally. I didn’t want to gloss over that.”
She blinked a few times. “Do you suppose Granny has any eye drops?”
“Probably.”
“I should have asked Aunt Carol if she had any in her Mary Poppins medical bag. I think she could do surgery out of that thing.”
Mo chuckled. “I’m just glad she didn’t try to make us stay home today.”
They drove in silence for a few more minutes. “Mo?”
“Yeah?”
“Never mind.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I mean, this isn’t the time and place.”
Mo tapped the armrest, then twisted in the seat. “No. I don’t like this. We need to not do this. If you have something to say, say it. And I’ll do the same. We can’t move forward into . . . eh . . . anything good if we don’t communicate.”
“It’s not anything bad. I started to say it and then thought it would be better to say it when I’m not driving. You know, face to face.”
“Maybe it would be, but now that you’ve started . . .” He let the sentence hang, and she caved.
“Fine. I wanted to say thank you for taking those bullets for me, and for calling your parents, and for . . . letting me cry on you. You’ve been very kind to me. Thank you.”
In her periphery, she could see Mo relax in his seat.
“I’m not sure what to say to that. ‘You’re welcome’ seems a bit out of place.
‘My pleasure’ makes it sound like I jump in front of bullets on the regular or that I think crying women are fun.
” He held up a hand. “To be clear, you can cry on me anytime. In fact, if you’re going to cry, I think it should be on me. No one should cry alone.”
If he didn’t stop being so sweet, Bronwyn was going to be in serious trouble. They were friends. Good friends. Right? Or, whatever. They were becoming something. But . . . she realized he was waiting on her to respond. What had he said? “I can’t promise that, but I’ll do my best.”
“Fair enough.” Mo fiddled with his phone. “While we’re saying thank yous, we need to discuss how you tried to take a bullet for me first. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you ran at me when what you should have done was hit the ground immediately.”
He glanced over in time to see Bronwyn narrow her eyes at him.
He kept going before she could respond. “Thank you for trying to protect me. For talking to me and for trusting me to protect you. I’m even feeling glad that you made me call Mom and Dad, because you were right.
If they’d come home and then Mom saw me like this?
” He pointed to his face and grimaced. “I might not survive the tongue-lashing that would surely be coming my way.”
They continued the ride in silence. Bronwyn didn’t think it was awkward, but what if Mo thought it was? How did anyone know if a silence was truly awkward, anyway? What were the rules? At what point did it go from comfortable to awkward?
She was happy to simply be with him. Despite the chaos and turmoil in her life, she felt safe and .
. . complete. Yes, it was a corny sentiment, but it wasn’t like she was going to tell him he completed her.
He didn’t. It was more that this resolution of their drama felt like a decades-long wrong had finally been righted.
Which was good. Because she didn’t think she could manage multiple dramas at once, and her family would be a nightmare.
She pulled into the driveway and turned to Mo. “Are you okay? How’s your head?”
He tapped it. “Hard as usual. Don’t move.” He hopped out of his side of the Jeep, then walked to her side, opened the door, and extended his hand. She took it.
“Thank you, kind sir.”
“You’re welcome, good lady.”
They were both snickering like children when they walked into the house.
Papa and Granny were in the kitchen, and they turned when they entered. “Lawd have mercy.” Granny flew at Mo and hugged him tight, then turned to Bronwyn and pulled her close. “Oh, my precious girl. I’m so glad you’re home safe.”
Home safe.
Bronwyn considered that phrase as they ate. Granny had fried pork tenderloin and eggs, sliced tomatoes that had to have come from her garden, gravy, biscuits, and homemade muscadine jelly.
Home safe.
Had she ever been safe?
Had she ever been home?
She didn’t have answers to those questions. Or maybe it was that she refused to acknowledge the ones flittering around on the edge of her consciousness. Regardless, she set it aside for now.
This was her favorite meal. Did Granny know that? It seemed like the kind of thing Granny would have tucked away in her memory banks and pulled out now, when Bronwyn needed comfort in the worst way.
Food hadn’t always been her friend, but in Granny’s kitchen, even the food felt safe. She had seconds of everything as they caught up on all the family news, which some might wrongly call gossip, but she wasn’t one to judge.
Aunt Minnie blew through at one point with a big smile for Bronwyn and a long hug for Mo before she left to watch a show.
She hadn’t understood the delay and had eaten before they arrived.
As she watched a prince get tossed into the water on TV, her laughter made for a fun backdrop to their conversation—a conversation that painstakingly ignored several elephants in the room.
“We have to head into town.” Mo pushed back from the table and rubbed his stomach. “Gray wants to talk to us.”
“Dare say he does.” Papa Quinn took a sip of his coffee. “You got any ideas on who shot at you?”
“Got plenty of ideas, Papa,” Mo said. “The problem is figuring out which ones are the real problems and which ones Bronwyn can fix by firing their sorry selves.”
Papa winked at her. “Take it from an old man, sweetheart. Fire the ones that won’t work or make mistakes and pass the blame. Promote the ones that work hard as long as when they make mistakes, they own them.”
“I’d like to fire the lot of them.” Bronwyn refused to think about the possibility that her family was even now removing her from her position.
“Why don’t you?”
“I’ve been trying not to alienate my family.”
“How’s that been working for you?” Papa Quinn had never been one to miss an opportunity for a pointed discussion.
“Not well, sir.”
He leaned toward her and patted her hand. “That’s okay. You’re young. Plenty of time to get it sorted.”
“I hope you’re right.”
But she feared time had run out.