Page 85 of The Check Down

Angling back in my chair, I stretch my legs under the table. “Soon. Don’t want to rush it, though. In case she’s not there yet.”

“She’s there.” She straightens her spine, no doubt ready to give me a lecture, but the sound of the side door opening stops her.

Seconds later, I’m bombarded by the only female in Shaw’s life.

I let out anoof, and when I’ve recovered, I lavish the energetic golden retriever with aggressive ear scratches, chuckling at the way her rump wiggles in response. “Hey there, Delta girl.”

“Delta, sit,” Shaw commands, and the dog obeys instantly.

“What a good girl,” Mom croons. “She deserves lots of treats.” She shuffles to the counter and digs a dog biscuit out of a canister with Delta’s head printed on the side.

“Mom, don’t spoil her,” Shaw says, sitting across from me with his mug of undoctored coffee.

“Oh, shush. If I want to spoil my only grandchild, you won’t stop me, Shaw Morgan.”

My brother raises a brow, scrutinizing me.

I hold both hands up. “Don’t look at me. I’ve already been full-named this morning.”

Mom feeds Delta three consecutive biscuits, ignoring Shaw’s huffs. “I thought we’d grab lunch at Loblolly. I’m sure Brynn would love to look in the shops downtown.”

“Sounds good.” I move to the counter and grab another mug, and as I prep Brynn’s coffee the way she likes, I turn to my brother. “Think we’re going to hit up Dottie’s tonight. Tuck and Cam already said they’d meet us. We’d love for you to come, too.”

I hold my breath, bracing myself for the imminent rejection. Getting Shaw to participate in social settings is a challenge.

So when he grunts and mumbles, “Yeah, I’ll grab a beer with y’all,” I can’t help but gape.

When I recover, I clear my throat. “Cool. I’ll text you later.” Before he has a chance to change his mind, I’m taking the stairs two at a time, trying not to spill my woman’s coffee.

While my parents get things done around the house, Brynn and I head into town to goof off until lunchtime. I luck out and find a parking spot in front of the diner. The moment I join Brynn on the sidewalk and lace my fingers between hers, a voice warbles my name.

“Griffin Lacey, as I live and breathe. Look, Roscoe, it’s Griffin.” An elderly woman and her husband hobble over, both beaming.

“Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy, good to see y’all. This is my girlfriend, Brynn.”

Beside me, Brynn flushes, but she extends her hand to the couple we both tower over. We exchange pleasantries, and then we’re moving again. Though we only get a few feet down the sidewalk before we’re stopped by more faces from my past. And just as we’ve crossed the street to the corner of the square, my former high school home economics teacher rushes over for a selfie.

“You took home ec?” Brynn asks when Mrs. Reynolds is out of earshot.

I tuck her into my side. “Of course I took home ec. That’s where all the girls were.” That earns me an elbow to the ribs. “Hey, I can sew on a button because of that class. Make a mean chocolate chip cookie, too.”

“Hmm, I’ll need to sample these mean chocolate chip cookies, sir. Find out what makes them so angry.”

Head dropped back, I guffaw. “That was cheesy, but I’ll bake for you, baby. The secret is to brown the butter.” We stop at the corner where a diagonal sidewalk cuts through the square. “Here’s what I wanted you to see.”

Brynn reads the wooden sign next to the mouth of the sidewalk. “The Holler Heart Path. Established 1986.”

We step onto the first square of concrete in the path, the one with year 1986 stamped at the top. Inside the square are four pairs of handprints, each labeled with names that were carefully carved into the concrete when it was wet.

“When the town was gearing up to celebrate the centennial of its founding,” I tell her, “the mayor’s daughter was also planning her wedding to the love of her life. She had this grand idea to commemorate the town’s love stories.” I gesture to the handprints at our feet.

“Like a love hall of fame?” She grins, making my heart fucking flip-flop in my chest.

“Exactly. So every year on Founder’s Day, if there are enough couples signed up, a new patch of concrete is poured and those lovebirds leave their handprints. Then someone with a steady hand etches the names before it dries.”

Fingers linked, we stroll down the path.

“It doesn’t happen every year, though. Couples sometimes have to wait until there are enough participants. I think they do five pairs at a time now.” I pause at the 1988 square and tap a print with my sneaker.