Enough
Chapter fifty-five
Lani
Eyes bounce off me the second I step into River’s Edge Pub. Small towns love a good piece of gossip until it belongs to someone they know. I keep my spine straight, my expression neutral as I weave through the tables. Betty, Lou, and Dotty sit waiting by the patio.
Todd, the establishment owner, appears before I even settle into my seat; his hulking body towers over me as he glides a chair out for me. “You’re such a gentleman, Todd.”
“Only for you, Lane.” My smile comes naturally at the nickname he’s called me since we were kids. The pitcher of frozen margaritas is plopped down between us without asking.
“Figured y’all might need reinforcement tonight,” he says dryly.
“Bless you, Todd,” Betty says immediately.
His eyes flick briefly toward the room before landing on me. “Ignore the vultures.”
“If only they made it easy,” I mutter.
Across the pub, Jordan sits surrounded by church women and tight smiles, basking in attention like a cat in a sunny window. Every now and then, someone glances my way and whispers behind a hand.
Cowards.
“It’ll die down,” Dotty says gently.
I look at her. “Will it?”
The table quiets.
“Because Fallon hasn’t stepped foot off that porch in days. Cyrus is worried sick. Those kids hear more than people think they do.” My throat tightens. “And half this town is celebrating their names being dragged through the gutters.”
Betty’s mouth pinches hard.
Todd quietly places a basket of burnt ends in front of me before moving off again, though not before squeezing my shoulder once.
Soft support. No pity. That’s Todd.
“I just don’t understand it,” Lou says. “Fallon’s done more for this town than most of the people talking about her.”
“That’s the problem,” I say bitterly. “People love supporting women until the time comes to support women.”
A hush drifts across nearby tables. Jordan laughs loudly from across the room, clearly performing now. Betty leans toward me. “You want me to throw a roll at her?”
Despite myself, I snort.
Tempting.
Instead, I lift my margarita slightly and say, just loud enough to carry.
“Imagine being so miserable you spend your free time rooting against two people finding their way back to each other. Celebrating tragedy and obstacles that both of them have overcome, because your own life has never challenged you.”
A few heads duck.
Jordan stiffens.
Lou hums into her drink. “Hit dogs holler. Is what my momma used to say.”
Dotty nods toward the church table. “Funny crowd to judge Fallon considering half this town’s secrets were born after too much tequila and poor decision-making.”
Now THAT gets a few choked laughs.
Jordan finally turns around. “Some of us just care about morality.”
The pub stills.
I smile pleasantly. “Oh, honey, if morality were the requirement for living in this town, River’s Edge would be empty by six. And your fiancé wouldn’t have run off with his intern.”
Even Todd barks out a laugh from behind the bar.
Jordan’s face tightens.
And because I’m tired—because Fallon is home hurting while these women treat her life like serialized gossip—I set my glass down carefully.
“My son loves her,” I say simply. “Those children love her. And if any of you spent half as much energy protecting families as you do tearing women apart, this town might actually deserve people like Fallon. Both my son and Fallon have had to survive things that would have made grown men welting under. Jordan, the only thing you’ve ever had to survive was a bad hair day. ”
Silence.
Forks scrape against plates.
An uncomfortable truth settles over the room
Dotty plops a bite of burnt ends in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “You know, I think Todd may be the only man in town who knows what women want.” My brows raise over the rim of my margarita in question.
“He plies us with margaritas, stuffs our face with his,” she waves a piece of BBQ around, “meats, and sends us home.”
Todd, the man in question, coughs uncomfortably somewhere behind me. Betty slaps Dotty’s shoulder. “Well, butter my biscuit, we can’t take you nowhere.”