Riley: Nothing.

Me: Get your mind out of the gutter, pervert.

Riley: It just sounded like you were talking about something else . . .

Me: I was.

Riley: OMG BYE.

Laughing, I drop my phone to my chest and get back to zoning out on SportsCenter.

Nine Days Later

I PULL INTO the parking lot surrounding McGill’s Pub and find a spot open next to Beth’s silver monster truck, which isn’t exactly what it is but I call it that considering how big the tires are and how much of a running start Beth needs to get herself up into that thing.

She loves it. I don’t blame her. It really is fun to ride in.

Plus, you do feel kind of badass when you’re sitting up that high. Especially when a guy pulls up next to you and you get to look down on him.

Seeing little Beth behind the wheel usually gets some curious looks.

Reed bought this truck for her last year when Beth left her car in Kentucky. Surprised her with it and had it modified to fit her, so he says.

Now they have matching trucks and matching last names, which I think is super cute.

I’m not sure how practical it’ll be if they have any kids though. You can’t exactly toss a baby up into that thing.

After turning my car off, I grab my keys and my phone, leaving my wallet in the backpack I carry around with me for class since I’m not staying long. Then I lock up and head inside.

McGill’s is your typical small town bar. Warm atmosphere. Great tasting food. Friendly service. And killer tunes always playing overhead. A sweet mix of rock-n-roll and country, which is exactly how I’d describe myself if someone was curious enough to ask.

I’ll listen to Led Zeppelin and The Stones any day of the week, grew up on it and can belt out the tunes right along with my daddy, but I’m a southern girl down to my bones and true in my heart. I’ll never let go of my roots.

It’s nice to get a taste of both when I come around here.

I don’t get to frequent much due to my school schedule and the hours I need to set aside for studying, but I imagine a lot of people do, making McGill’s a second home to some.

I know Reed is one of those regulars. The rest of the guys? I’m not sure of, which is why I have my eyes on high alert as I make my way toward the bar after spotting Beth behind it.

I do not need to be running into CJ right now. Not with my main reason for being here.

I gotta share some things. Need to. There's just no holding it in any longer, and having CJ as an audience will make sharing this information that much harder.

I can't have him smiling at me and radiating that easy, downhome charm the way he does while looking the way he does, fully developed in all areas and more developed in some, with that wide chest and his thick muscles and those big, rough hands he'll use to fix every appliance in my house before suggesting he bang me all over it.

No way. He can't be here for this. I’ll turn into a speechless freak and spend my entire time here staring.

“There’s the sister I always wanted and finally have,” Beth announces when she sees me claiming a stool, doing this after visually clearing the room of large, manly objects.

She smiles big, walking over to stand across from me in her worn Van Morrison tee and waitress apron tied around her tiny waist. Her long, dark hair is down and looking extra wavy, her skin is glowing, her finger is sparkling from the new rock decorating it, and she’s got this cool double-winged thing going on with her eyeliner, which is a look I’m totally stealing.

“Your eyes look awesome like that,” I share, never feeling the need to keep a compliment inside when it has potential to brighten someone’s day.

Beth drops a coaster down on the bar, smiling at me. “Thanks,” she says. “You want something? It’s on the house. You know, since we’re family and all.”

“You love saying that, don’t you?” I ask, wearing my own smile and not being able to help that one bit.

I love Beth Davis from McGill’s. I love her even more now that she’s Beth Tennyson and looking like the happiest girl in Ruxton, Alabama.

She shrugs, admitting, “Maybe a little.” Then slides the coaster closer to me. “Drink?”

“No, thanks. I can’t stay long.”

I watch her slide the coaster away and add it to a small pile, noticing how dark the skin on her arm has gotten since I last saw her.

“So, how was the honeymoon?” I ask. I haven’t spoken to Beth since I called right after breaking the news to CJ. I didn’t want to bother her and Reed anymore. “I see my brother untied you long enough you were able to lay out a little.”

Beth’s eyes go wide before quickly cutting away. “I can’t believe I told you he does that,” she murmurs to a spot on the bar with the reddest cheeks I’ve ever seen. She looks at me again, quickly stressing, “On occasion.”

“Right. And by that you mean, every day that ends with a ‘y’?”

She squints, lifts her eyes, and begins ticking off the days of the week in her head, by the looks of it, nodding through the process. After finishing up on Sunday, I guess, she focuses on me again.

“The honeymoon was everything I could’ve hoped for. Let’s just leave it at that.”

Laughing, I prop my elbow on the bar and rest my chin on my fist.

“Hey, Riley Girl,” Ms. Hattie says, walking behind Beth and smiling at me. “You want anything? Something to eat?”

Hattie is Beth’s aunt and owns McGill’s with her husband, Danny. She’s crazy sweet.

“No thanks,” I reply. “I’m not staying.”

“You sure?” She comes up to stand beside Beth. “Got Big Jon back there whipping up some of that tasty macaroni salad you liked so much last time you came `round. Fresh batch.” She smiles when I shake my head, then gives me a wink. “All right. You change your mind, you just holler out.”

Hattie moves down the bar, grabbing a bottle on her way.

“I’ll never look at all that rope in the bed of my brother’s truck the same again,” I tell Beth when her aunt gets out of earshot, just because I can’t help myself and I’m dying to say it.

Beth makes a face.

I make one back.

“How’s it going with Richard?” she asks after tossing a balled up napkin at my head. “Are you guys happy now that you’re back together? Or,” she tilts her head, “since you didn’t really break up, I guess I should say, now that you’re still together? Whatever. Are things better now?”