“Let’s go,” my mother says. I turn to walk away, and then I feel his hand on my arm. I know it’s his hand because I would know his touch in the dark. Glancing down at his fingers, I stand here for longer than I care to until his hand drops, and my mother looks back at him.

“What detective?” he asks. I take a deep breath and turn. No matter how many times I thought about this moment, no matter how many times I role-played when I was drunk, nothing could have prepared me for being so close to him.

“This doesn’t concern you,” I say. “Nothing about me or my life concerns you.” It’s his turn now to take a step back, and I turn and walk out of the shop with Olivia by my side.

“Holy shit,” Olivia says from beside me. “Holy shit, did you just tell him to fuck off but in a nice Southern way?”

“I have no idea what I said. The only thing I was trying to do was block his smell.”

I pull open the truck door while my mother jumps into the front and makes sure we are all in before she pulls out of the grocery store parking lot. “We need to call your father,” my mother says as she speeds through town, and all I can do is close my eyes. Close my eyes and hope to God that it’s over, and I can leave here. That I never have to be that close to him again.

When we pull up to the house, my father and brother are walking around the house. They both look as if they are going to war with shotguns by their side.

“Oh my God,” Olivia says from the back, “is that a shotgun?”

“No,” I say, looking at her, “that’s two shotguns.”

I get out of the truck and wait for Olivia, who is still shaking. Trying to walk on the gravel in her heels, she almost trips, but surprise, Casey is there to catch her. “Careful, darlin’.”

“Oh, would you please put that shit away?” I look at him. “You can’t flirt with her. She’s not in her right mind.” I walk to the house, opening the door, and go straight to the cabinet in the living room where I know my father keeps his whiskey. “I need a drink.”

My mother, Olivia, Casey, and my father watch me unscrew the bottle and take a pull from it. The amber liquid hits my tongue and then burns all the way down. I cough after the second gulp, and I think I might actually get sick.

“Okay, if you gals don’t tell me what is going on, I don’t know if I can calm this one down.” My father uses his thumbs to motion to Casey, who stands there with his hands in his back pockets.