Free Rescue Me (Butler Island) by Nikki Rittenberry Page B

of Olivia’s mouth turned upward in a grin as
if recalling a fond memory. “Yep, my husband likes to remind me daily. So…
what’s it gonna be?”
    Even though taking the next step felt like a frightening
leap, Lana finally obliged. “All right, all right. Let me just get out of this
robe.” She pivoted and headed down the hall to her bedroom, but not before
noticing the victorious expression plastered on Olivia’s face.
    Maybe Olivia was right. Maybe it was time to take advantage
of the parenting pause her mom and dad offered once a month. Maybe it was time
to stop merely existing and start actually living.
    After all, that’s what Jimmy would have wanted.
    Lana tossed her robe on the bed and tugged on a pair of
denim jeans. She slipped on a green plaid flannel, leaving the ends unbuttoned
so she could tie the soft material at her waist. She finished her ensemble with
her favorite pair of brown cowgirl boots, distressed and worn in from countless
hours on The Saloon’s dance floor. Glancing in the mirror a final time, she
nodded in approval.
     Tonight Lana would rejoin the living. Wishing her life
had turned out differently wouldn’t change a damn thing.
    Because no amount of wishing was going to bring Jimmy
back.
     
     
    Grant bought the next round after Randall effortlessly
sank the eight ball into the called right corner pocket. Again. “Man, Livvey’s
gonna kill me if I keep this shit up.”
    Stifling a smirk, Randall glanced at his watch. “Maybe
not; they should’ve been here an hour ago. Maybe they changed their minds.”
    “To do what?”
    He shrugged. “I don’t know—chick shit, I guess.
    Grant slurped a sip of beer and then ran his tongue over
his mouth to capture a segment of froth that’d settled on his upper lip. “Chick
shit, eh? And what might that be?”
    “Nail painting, purse swapping”—leaning forward, he
braced his hands along the edge of the pool table—“pillow fighting… You know,
shit like that.”
    “Pillow fights?” Olivia asked as she sidled up beside
them. “What type of fantasy land do you reside in, Randall?”
    Tugging at her waist, Grant pulled his wife against him.
“What took you so long?” he questioned as he nuzzled his face in the crook of
her neck. “
    “Well…”
    “It was my fault”, Lana began. “I—”
    “Almost won the pillow fight. Yep, and you know Lana:
Mrs. Competitive”, Olivia emphasized teasingly as she gestured at Lana with her
thumb. “She demanded a rematch.”
     Laughter rippled around the pool table. Olivia’s rundown
of the events that’d taken place prior to their arrival couldn’t have been more
contradictory in nature. Lana was sweet. Compassionate. She didn’t have an
antagonistic bone in her body.
    “Well, I’ll be… I thought that was you”, said Dan as he
came to rest next to Lana. “Sure is good to see you in here.” The longtime
bartender/owner swung one of his arms around her shoulders and smiled.
    “Thanks, Dan. Looks like you’re in for a busy night
tonight.”
    “Yes, ma’am. Winterfest always seems to draw a big
crowd—plus I heard it’s supposed to rain later. When that happens, folks will
likely stop in here. What’re you lovely ladies drinkin’ tonight?”
    “I’ll have a glass of merlot”, Olivia announced. “A full glass.”
    “I think I can manage that. And what about you?” he asked
as he turned his attention back to Lana. “The usual?”
    “You mean—you still remember? It’s been ages since I’ve
been in.”
    “Of course, I do. It may’ve been a while, but I wouldn’t
forget. Malibu and pineapple juice, three maraschino cherries”, he gestured
with his fingers.
    Stifling a shy smile, Lana nodded.
    “All right. Be right back.”
    Randall placed his half empty mug on the nearby table,
gathering Lana in his arms in a friendly greeting. “Hey, girl, I was beginning
to think you weren’t going to show. Good to see you.”
    “Thanks, good to see you too”, she said as she