“And I was dead wrong. I’m fucked, Shelby.”
“Okay, what’s the plan?” She sat up straighter. “What’s your first step?”
“I’m meeting with my lawyer today.”
“You fired Andrea already, I assume.”
“Yeah, but it gets worse. I don’t have proof she did it yet. It looks like she did from everything my attorney and I have found so far. But we don’t have enough to nail her. And since the story leaked to the press the other day, and they’re mentioning her, she’s suing me.”
“What?” she practically shrieked.
“Yeah. She hasn’t served the lawsuit yet, but her lawyer sent what he called a courtesy warning to my lawyer this morning.”
“This is unreal. She steals from you, completely screws you over, and now she thinks she can sue you?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, wincing at the headache I’d been fighting for days. “Yep. That’s where my life is right now. Aren’t you glad you came over?”
“Come on, don’t be like that. You don’t have to deal with this alone. You have a family, and friends. You have a community behind you.”
“I kinda do have to do this alone. I’m paying the price for trusting someone else too much.”
“But that doesn’t mean you don’t have people in your corner.”
Mellow hopped into the kitchen, so I scooped her up and set her in my lap.
“Why is Mellow here?” she asked. “I thought you had her at your place in Bootleg.”
“No, I moved back here until I get this mess straightened out.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “You were about to sell this house and move out there. I get that this is a big deal, but do you really need to be in Philly to handle it?”
“My lawyer is here.”
“Sure, but it’s not like you’ll be in his office every day.”
“Why are you grilling me about where I live? I have to put things on hold until I get through this.”
“Like your relationship with June?”
“How did you…” I glanced away. It drove me crazy how my sister could read me.
I wasn’t sure where things stood between me and June. I knew she hadn’t wanted me to leave Bootleg. And she was upset that I hadn’t told her what was going on. We hadn’t exactly parted on good terms. “Yes, like my relationship with June. I can’t pull her into this.”
“But she knows, right? You were honest with her about what was going on and why you had to leave?”
“Yeah. I mean, eventually. I told her yesterday.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Oh, GT.”
“What?”
“You just told her yesterday? I thought you two were serious.”
“We are. Or we were.”
“If you were serious, why did you keep this from her?”
I blew out a long breath and pet Mellow between the ears. “I told you, I didn’t want her getting mixed up in my shit.”
“That’s a relationship, GT. You get mixed up in each other’s shit.”
“It’s not like there’s anything she could do.”
“That’s not the point,” she said. “Look, the fact that Andrea screwed you over is horrible. But that’s not a reason to push everyone else away. And don’t even tell me that’s not what you’re doing.”
“It’s not what I’m doing.”
“Yes, it is. You’re going through the biggest crisis of your life on the heels of your football career ending prematurely. And you come back here, where you have no support? Why would you do that?”
“Because it’s my problem,” I said. “This isn’t June’s fight, or my family’s fight. It’s not Bootleg’s fight. It’s mine.”
“GT, don’t even get me started on our family. We love you. You don’t need to shut us out. And as for Bootleg, I’ve seen that town come together to protect their own. From everything you’ve told me, they embraced you. Those friends you made would have your back right now if you let them. And if June is a woman who deserves you, she would too.”
“Her deserving me is not the issue,” I said. “It’s the other way around.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t assume that because you made a mistake that you’re not good enough. Everyone makes mistakes, GT.”
I shook my head. “Not everyone makes mistakes that could land them in prison.”
“Well, you’re not in prison now. If June is the one, she’ll stand by your side through this.”
I knew she would. That wasn’t even a question. I just didn’t want her to have to. “I know.”
“So let her.”
“You don’t understand,” I said. “June’s the smartest woman I’ve ever met. She even had suspicions about Andrea, and I ignored her. I don’t know why I thought I could keep up with her. I’m just a dumb guy who used to be able to catch a ball.”
Shelby’s eyes looked stormy. “Do not talk about yourself that way, GT. You’re not dumb, and you never were.”
I felt dumb. How much intelligence did a guy need to play a game? And would a smart man have let himself get in trouble with the IRS like this? I doubted it.
Shelby’s expression softened. “I’m sorry, GT, I didn’t come over here to get bossy with you. But I’m looking from the outside in. Just a couple of weeks ago, you were calling me all excited because things were getting serious with June. You’d put your house on the market and were moving to be close to her. Your voice… It was amazing. I don’t remember the last time you sounded so happy.”
“I was.”
“So lean into that,” she said. “If she’s as good for you as you seemed to believe before this happened, you need her by your side right now.”
I rubbed my finger between Mellow’s ears again. Damn it, she was right. Everything seemed exponentially worse since I’d left Bootleg Springs. Since I’d told June I didn’t need another accountant. Guilt washed over me. She’d been trying to help and I’d thrown it back in her face. Again. That had been a shitty thing to do.
“Maybe I do need her. But I didn’t exactly part with her on good terms before I left.”
“Are you still trying to convince yourself you aren’t pushing people away?” she asked, her tone wry. “Call her. Let her in.”
“All right.” I stared at the table. “I’ll call her after my appointment with Marc.”
“Fair enough. And call me, too. I want to know how it goes.”
“I’ll keep you updated, don’t worry.”
“I’m your sister, of course I’m going to worry,” she said. “But GT, I really believe this is going to be okay.”
“Thanks, Shelby.”
“Plus, I liked the idea of you moving out to Bootleg Springs. It’ll give me a more permanent place to stay when I come back. I like that crazy little town.”
“Me too.”
35
June
The sound from the TV drifted past me, largely unnoticed. Even ESPN couldn’t hold my attention. The usual comfort I got from sitting on my parents’ couch, watching sports with my dad, was noticeably missing. Instead of focusing on the latest news in the sports world, my mind drifted, replaying what had happened with George.
I didn’t know what to do with my feelings. There were so many of them. Bright, their colors harsh and glaring. They bounced through my head, leaving messy splotches all over my brain, like splashes of neon paint.
I’d thought about eating my feelings this morning. But Jonah had come downstairs and told me about a new study that had recently been published in the Journal of Sports Nutrition. Hearing about macronutrient ratios and intermittent fasting while Jonah made himself a protein shake had dampened my craving for carbs and fat. So I’d decided to go to my parents’ house.
It was my dad’s day off, so he was dressed in civilian clothing. In fact, it was early enough in the day that he hadn’t yet changed out of his shirt and pajama pants. My mom wore the matching pajama top as she walked around the house, watering her plants, hum
ming to herself. She walked by Dad and gave him a little caress on the cheek before moving on to the next room.
My parents were the picture of a happy marriage. I’d always taken their relationship for granted—never put much thought into what made it special. Or even the fact that it was special. Looking back, it was an odd thing to have missed. I’d grown up with the Bodines, their family dynamic a sharp contrast to the life Cassidy and I had lived within these walls.
But I hadn’t been paying attention. Relationships had confused me, made me uncomfortable. So I’d ignored them unless forced otherwise. I’d always loved my parents, and cared about them. My sister as well. But I felt a twinge of guilt, now, at how easily I’d taken them for granted. Their place in my life was important—vital, even. It had taken meeting, loving, and possibly losing George to make me see it.
I supposed it was better late than never.
“You and Mom have always set a very positive example as to what a healthy marriage should be,” I said. “Thank you.”
Dad looked at me, his brow furrowed, his white mustache twitching. “You’re welcome?”
“I’ve never told you what a good role model you’ve been. So I’m telling you now.”
He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, thank you, June Bug. Truth is, your mama makes it easy. I’m just lucky she’s put up with me all these years.”
I was about to reply when something on TV caught my attention. Had they just said GT Thompson?
“The former all-pro receiver could be facing charges of tax evasion. Thompson retired after his second ACL tear midway through last season. Now, he’s being investigated by the IRS, and his assistant, Andrea Wilson, is allegedly complicit in the fraud.”
Dad muted the TV and looked at me, his eyebrows lifting. “Did you know about this?”
“It’s not his fault,” I said. “His assistant was underreporting his income and stealing the money she should have been using to pay his taxes.”
Mom stood in the doorway, still holding her green plastic watering can. “Oh dear. June Bug, invite him over for dinner tonight. He probably needs a good meal.”
“He’s not here. He went to Philadelphia.”
“Well, when he gets back, then,” Mom said.
I nodded, looking down at my hands clasped in my lap.
“Is there more to this?” Dad asked, his voice soft.
“I believe him. I’m not upset because he could be facing criminal charges.”
“Then what is it?”
“I could have helped,” I said. “Only he didn’t tell me until yesterday.”
Mom set her watering can on the side table and sat in the armchair next to the couch. “Pride makes men do stupid things. Like not asking for help when they need it.”
“So you’d consider this within the realm of typical male behavior?”
“Sure,” Mom said, and I caught the little wink she gave my dad.
“But it was more than simply failing to ask for help,” I said. “When he told me about his predicament, I was given the very distinct impression that he didn’t want my help. He said he doesn’t need another accountant.”
“Maybe that’s not the sort of help he needs,” Mom said. “Sometimes a man doesn’t need you to fix things for him. He just needs you to love him through the hard times.”
Mom and Dad shared a tender look. I’d seen those expressions on their faces when they looked at each other more times than I could count. But the meaning finally clicked into place. That was love. Real, true love that had lasted decades.
A feeling surged through my chest, making all the other conflicting emotions pale in comparison. It was warm and certain. A sense of clarity amid the confusion.
I loved George. That wasn’t new information. I’d known I loved him for some time. Even said those words to him. But I finally understood what that meant. And more importantly, I knew how to behave in light of that fact.
He was right; he didn’t need another accountant. He very likely had a competent attorney who would help him through this process. They would hire the appropriate people—accountants and otherwise—to work on his case.
What he needed was his girlfriend. A partner to be with him and support him emotionally during a difficult time. To love him through it, as my mother had said.
“Thank you,” I said, standing up abruptly. “I think I understand now.”
“Understand what?” Dad asked.
“How to have a true intimate relationship with another human.” I grabbed my coat and paused near the front door. “I have to go. I love you both.”
“Love you too, June Bug.”
* * *
When I got to Philadelphia, George wasn’t home. His car was nowhere to be seen, and there was no answer at his door. I peeked through the front window and saw Mellow sound asleep on her bunny bed. He must have already gone to his meeting.
I knew the name of his attorney, so it was simple enough to locate his office. Inside, I stopped at the receptionist’s desk.
“Hello,” I said. “I’m June Tucker, here to see Marc White with George Thompson.”
“Are they expecting you?” she asked.
“Yes,” I lied without blinking.
“One moment.” She glanced at her computer screen. “Mr. Thompson is already in Mr. White’s office. I can take you back.”
I followed the woman down a hallway to a plain brown door. She knocked twice, then opened it.
“Ms. Tucker is here.”
George looked up at me, his eyes widening. He sat on one side of a large mahogany desk. On the other side sat a man dressed in a button-down shirt and tie. He had salt and pepper hair, and more gray than brown in his neatly trimmed beard.
“I apologize for my tardiness.” I’d dressed for the occasion, donning a crisp white blouse, pencil skirt, and black pumps. I stepped past the receptionist, into the room, and took the seat next to George.
“What are you doing here?” George asked quietly.
The door clicked closed behind the receptionist.
“I’m here to support you.”
“What?”
I patted his knee and settled back in my seat. “I’m June, George’s significant other. Please forgive the interruption. Carry on.”
Marc looked at George, his eyebrows raised, but George was looking at me, a slow smile spreading across his features.
“Thank you, June Bug.”
I nodded, keeping my lips pressed together, trying to show him I wasn’t here to intervene. I wasn’t his accountant. I was his partner. When he needed me, I’d be here.
He dipped his chin, a subtle gesture I recognized. He understood. That was one of the amazing things about George Thompson. He understood me.
“Sorry,” he said to Marc and took my hand, lacing our fingers together. “We can continue.”
I sat in silence while they discussed George’s case. Since I’d clearly arrived midway through their meeting, I hadn’t heard all the relevant information. But it didn’t take long for me to catch up. George had provided Marc with the entirety of his financial records from the last ten years. Marc had a team of skilled accountants and attorneys sorting through the documentation. They were preparing for the IRS audit, and seeking evidence of Andrea’s theft and fraud.
Marc cleared his throat. “Ms. Wilson’s lawsuit is an unwelcome distraction. And it doesn’t help your case. The IRS is going to be investigating before a judge has a chance to look at the civil suit. But the IRS will be well-aware you’re being sued. Put simply, it doesn’t look good.”
“No, it doesn’t,” George said. “Is there anything I can do about it at this point?”
“Not really. I’d be willing to bet she knows she can’t win. She’s just trying to scare you away from implicating her.”
George squeezed my hand. “It won’t work.”
Marc shook his head. “No. But it makes my job more complicated. Anyway, I think we’ve covered everything. Do you have any question
s?”
“No.” George looked at me. “What about you, June? Any questions for Marc?”
I squeezed George’s hand. “No. If you have everything you need, that’s what matters.”
We both stood and said our goodbyes to Marc. He promised to contact George within a week with an update, or sooner if there were any significant findings.
Neither of us spoke much when we left the office. There was much to say, but we both seemed to realize the parking lot of a law office wasn’t the best place for the conversation. Instead, we each drove back to George’s house and went inside.
Mellow greeted me by hopping in a circle around my feet. I knelt on the floor to pick her up.
“Hello, little one.”
George took off his coat and collapsed onto the couch. I put Mellow down and sat next to him. An instinct I hadn’t realized I possessed made me draw his head gently into my lap. He lay on his side, one hand tucked beneath my leg, the other draped over my thighs.
I ran my fingers through his hair, sitting with him in comfortable silence. Feeling his body slowly relax. This felt good. It felt right. Despite the crisis in his life, we were together. This was where I was supposed to be.
This was love.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice soft.
“You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t expect to see you.”
“I know. But you needed me.”
He nodded against my lap. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about everything sooner. I should have. And I’m sorry for what I said last night.”
“I forgive you. I’m sorry I didn’t fully understand what you needed.”
He turned over onto his back, his head still in my lap. “June Bug, you don’t need to apologize. I’m sorry you have to go through this. I didn’t want to make this your problem.”
I brushed his hair off his forehead. “But this is intimacy, isn’t it? If I only wanted to be with you when things were good, what kind of a partner would I be?”
His mouth hooked in a grin. “That’s a good point.”
“And if I were in similar trouble, you would do the same for me.”
Bourbon Bliss: Bootleg Springs Book Four Page 24