“That’s who I am on the outside.” Nessa waited until April was in the passenger seat and then rounded the back of the SUV and got into the driver’s side. She closed the umbrella, shook as much water from it as she could, and then put it on the back floorboard. “I’m as big of a mess on the inside as you are. I just hide it better.”

“Want to talk about it?” April asked.

“Not today. We’ve had enough cousin therapy for one day. Let’s go by the pizza place and get a couple to take home for supper, and maybe find a convenience store with a drive-by window to get a six-pack of beer to go with it,” Nessa said.

“Nanny Lucy will for sure claw her way up out of the grave if we take beer into her house.” April’s tone was dead serious. “But that sure sounds good.”

“Shhh . . .” Nessa put a finger over her lips. “I won’t tell if you don’t, and if Flynn does, we’ll make him sleep in the cellar tonight.”

April’s frown turned into a smile, and a tiny weight lifted from her heart.

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Flynn woke up on Friday morning with the covers pulled all the way up to his chin, and it felt so good to be breathing cold air after nights of sweltering heat. Waylon was lying on the pillow next to him, evidently trying to stare him awake with those big, green, unblinking eyes.

“Good mornin’.” Flynn yawned. “Kind of nice to wake up in a cold room, isn’t it? Is that where you slept when Nanny Lucy had this room?”

Waylon’s meow sounded like he was saying yes.

“Don’t you lie to me,” Flynn chuckled. “I remember Waylon number two very well, and Nanny Lucy made him go to the garage when it was bedtime. You are a con artist.”

Waylon meowed pitifully, got to his feet, and then jumped down off the bed and stood by the closed door.

“Guess that means you’re hungry or that you need to get to the litter pan, right?” Flynn tossed back the covers and shivered as he made his way over to the air conditioner and turned it down to a low setting. He opened the door, and the smell of coffee and bacon wafted down the hallway.

The cat took off in a black-and-white blur.

“Guess he’s in a hurry for his breakfast.” Flynn chuckled as he got dressed in faded denim shorts and a stained T-shirt. Today he had plans to start painting the house when they finished their time in the quilting shed. He looked at the calendar on his phone and smiled. “I’m one week sober today.”