Discover how it all started, back in Crystal Cove. Enjoy this taste of The Posse.

“TO DANIEL.”

“To Daniel.” Five glasses clinked together, but instead of the raucous laughter and jives that would normally have followed such a toast, there was only silence. The men around the bar looked at the floor, the wall or into their glasses—any place but at each other, where someone might have to acknowledge the deep sadness sunk into each face.

Eric Fleming sniffed once, long and loud. “Can’t believe it’s been a year.”

“Hell of a year for Jude, too,” put in Matt Spencer.

“The real hell for her was the year before.” Logan Holt reached beneath the bar and pulled out another bottle of beer. “Taking care of Daniel, watching him disappear right in front of her.”

They all nodded, wagging their heads in unison. No one in this crowd would ever dispute the way Jude Hawthorne had nursed her husband during his fight with cancer.

“Dammit, did you see her face today? When we let go his ashes? I’m telling you, I’ve never seen anything sadder. But she held it together, man. Like she always did. Like she always does.” Cooper Davis rubbed a hand over his eyes.

“Hell of a woman,” Matt said.

“To Jude.” Mark held out his beer. “My baby sister. She and Daniel . . .” His voice trailed, and he coughed. “They were amazing together.”

“What’s she going to do now?” Cooper dropped his empty into a nearby barrel and popped another top. “I mean, she’s holding onto the Tide, right? She’s not going to sell?”

Mark shook his head. “Nah, why should she? It’s hers. It’s our family’s.”

“I think the Tide and the kids are what kept her going this last year.” Logan traced the path of a drop of condensation down the side of his glass. “She won’t give that up.”

“The kids are going back to school, right?” said Eric.

“Yeah, Meggie’s heading back to Savannah this weekend, and Joseph is driving up to Gainesville with some friends next week.” Mark stood and stretched. “I gotta head home. Back to school tomorrow.”

“You can’t go now. I’ve still got a bottle of Jack and three six-packs.” Logan glanced around the room. “Plus we’re not ready yet. To end this.”

Mark sat down again without argument. Going home would mean more than the end of just the evening. Even though they had left the last of Daniel’s ashes in the rolling waves of the Atlantic that afternoon, as long as they remained here in Logan’s house, talking about their friend, he wasn’t really gone. Once they left, it would be over.

The posse would be finished.

“What if Jude doesn’t stay?” Eric spoke up from his perch in the corner. “What if she meets someone?”

“Who’s she going to meet here in Crystal Cove?” Mark shrugged. “And I don’t think she’s even interested in that kind of thing.”

“Not now. But she’s not exactly a washed up old lady, you know? And people come to the Cove. Tourists. Someone could stop at the Tide for breakfast, sweep her off her feet—”

Cooper laughed. “You been hitting the romance stack at the library again, Eric? Sweep her off her feet, huh?”

Matt took a long pull of his beer. “Could happen. Stranger things, you know.”

Mark shook his head. “Jude won’t leave. Her life is here.”

“Daniel was her life,” Logan said. “And he’s gone.”

“She can’t. If Jude leaves, the posse is done for real.” Eric’s mouth twisted into a worried frown.

They were silent again, each considering. If any of them were tempted to point out that with Daniel’s death, over thirty years of unbroken friendship was gone anyway, no one did. Jude had always been an unofficial member. She stood for Daniel now; there wasn’t any need to voice that.

“What can we do?” Mark slumped back into his chair, covering his eyes. “Free world. We can’t make her stay. If she meets someone else, falls in love—or whatever, what are we going to do? Tell her no? As her big brother, I can promise you that doesn’t fly.”

“It could be us. One of us could be the one to sweep her off her feet.” Matt’s words were measured, careful. “I mean, why not? We’ve all known each other forever. If I was married and then I was—well, wasn’t here anymore, I’d want one of you guys to take care of my wife.”

“Daniel asked us to look after her.” Cooper poured another glass of whiskey. “I guess that’s true.”

“Seriously?” Logan shook his head. “What is this, the Middle Ages? Our friend dies, so one of has to jump into his spot. Since when do we buy into arranged marriages?”

“Who said anything about marriage?” Matt asked. “But a relationship between two consenting adults—old friends, who know everything about each other—why not? Why wouldn’t it work?”

They all thought about it. It was crazy, but they’d done worse. And when they thought about Daniel, about Jude . . . there wasn’t anything any one of them wouldn’t do.

“So who goes for it?” Cooper was the first one to speak. “How do we figure that out? Draw straws? Pissing contest?”

“Well, Eric and I are both out. Wives might raise a fuss, plus—” Mark hooked two thumbs to his chest. “Brother. It’s between the rest of you.”

“Why don’t we let Jude choose?” Logan flickered bright eyes between Cooper and Matt.

“Are you crazy? Jude will never agree to that.” Matt rolled his eyes.

“I don’t mean we tell her. I mean, we all . . . you know . . . like, date her. What do all the girls say? Court her. And whoever clicks, that’s the one.” Logan flipped up a hand.

“You, me and Cooper?” Matt nodded. “Okay. Hey, I got nothing to lose. It’s not like women are beating down the door.”

“If Jude gets wind of this, she’ll blow a gasket.” Mark crumbled his napkin, aimed for the trash can and missed.

“I think we can keep it quiet. Nice shot, by the way.” Cooper punched his friend in the shoulder.

“Basketball’s not my game. But listen, I’m serious. How are you going to keep this from her? Take turns?”

“No.” Logan spoke definitively. “We act natural. We do what we would anyway—check in with her, take her to dinner, whatever. And then we see what happens.”

“And no hard feelings, right? No matter who she chooses. We say it right up front now, Jude is the final word. Agreed?” Cooper laid a hand on the oak bar, a gesture that was old as their friendship. Matt slapped his own hand down on top, followed by Eric and Mark. Logan was last, unfurling a fist on the pile.

“Deal,” he said. “Now let’s break out the good stuff.”

 

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