Chapter Text
The house was still and quiet when you got back. Curtains drawn tight, not a sliver of light leaking into the bedroom where Remmick slept like the dead—literally. You didn’t bother him. You somehow gotten the feeling he needed rest.
You slipped out of your shoes by the front door and made your way upstairs, curious now that your crates were mostly unpacked. Two stories meant more room than you were used to, and now that it was yours—well, mostly—it was time to start figuring out what you needed.
Room by room, you wandered. Bedroom upstairs was spacious, with old wood floors and a sloped ceiling that gave it character. You could imagine a dresser here, a mirror there. A rug maybe, something soft to keep your feet warm in the winter. Downstairs, the front room needed a sitting set, the kitchen had the bones but not the guts. Cabinets stood half-empty, and your food had nowhere proper to go.
You dug around until you found one of your crates and pulled out a small notebook, the spine soft with age. You started scribblin’ ideas.
Once you’d gotten enough down, your stomach gave a little growl. You checked what was left of the groceries and decided on something simple—eggs fried with bread on the side. It was modest, but warm. You made a mental note to go into town soon. You’d need more than salt and a dream to keep this house running.
After cleaning up, you wandered out onto the front porch and sunk into one of the rocking chairs. A soft breeze rolled through, bringing with it the smell of pine and heat. You rocked slow, sipping on a bit of leftover tea you’d kept warm. For the first time in a while, you felt... settled. Not safe, maybe. But getting there.
You didn’t realize how long you’d sat there until the sun dipped low behind the trees. The air changed, cooler now, shadows stretching long across the yard. And then—
“Evenin’, my lovely bride.”
You turned to find Remmick stepping through the front door like he’d just rolled outta bed, which he had. No shirt. Hair mussed. That grin like he already knew the effect he had on you.
You rolled your eyes, hiding your smile. “You always gotta come out here lookin’ like sin on a stick?”
Remmick froze, like you’d just handed him the moon.
His face lit up in a way that made your breath catch, a little stunned and way too pleased with himself. “Sin on a stick,” he repeated, slow like he was tasting it. “Might be the highest praise I ever got.”
He sat down beside you, still grinning like a fool, and stretched his legs out with a contented sigh. “Only dress like this when I know you’ll be watchin’,” he added with a wink that made you roll your eyes again, harder this time just to balance things out.
“How was your day, Mrs. Not-Yet-Married?”
You told him—about Annie’s slack-jawed surprise, Stack’s pacing, Smoke’s low cussing, the whole room near combusting when you mentioned Mary. The teasing left his face then, replaced by a low frown.
Remmick growls under his breath. "Mary better hope she got on that train, or that stack and smoke get her 'fore I do."
When you mentioned the list you’d made for the house, his expression softened again. “Money’s in the tin behind the kitchen bricks. You get whatever you want, sweetheart. Ain’t nothin’ cost too much when it’s for you.”
He stood, stretching in that lazy, showy way he always did when he knew you were watching. “I’m headin’ down to the Juke. Stack and Smoke wanna meet up early, start settin’ up for tomorrow night. You comin’?”
You rose too, brushing invisible dust from your skirt. “You already know I’m curious.”
He gave you a once-over and smirked. “Well, then I guess I better get dressed proper. Can’t be out here scandalizin’ the whole damn town before we even christen that porch swing.”
You gasped, hand to chest.
He just laughed, walking backwards toward the door. “Don’t act like that honey." He looked back at you licking his lips slowly. "Know once I get you full a' me you gonna talk filthier than all get out.”
You swatted toward him, but he was already ducking back into the house, still chuckling. A few minutes later, dressed in slacks and a tucked-in shirt that still didn’t quite tame his wildness, he was back at your side, and the two of you strolled toward the Juke beneath a soft twilight sky.
The place was quiet when you arrived—calm in that way that always came before the music started. Inside, the lights were low and warm. Chairs still sat upside down on tables, the floor freshly swept.
Stack and Smoke stood near the bar, speaking in low tones, while Delta Slim leaned against the piano with a toothpick tucked between his teeth, his sharp eyes tracking everything like usual.
Remmick went to join them, clasping hands and nodding at whatever plan was forming between them. You were still weirded out by the smile Delta Slim gave him.
Across the room, Grace and Annie were wiping down the back counter and sorting bottles. Bo stood nearby pretending to help, but mostly making wisecracks that kept Annie rolling her eyes.
Sammie was perched onstage, plucking lazy chords from his guitar, the sound low and thoughtful, echoing through the empty room like it had nowhere else to be.
You made your way over to Grace and Annie. The three of you slipped into rhythm without missing a beat—wiping down bottles, sorting mugs, and chatting in that slow, winding way women do when the day’s still settling.
As you placed another bottle on the shelf, you turned to Annie quietly. “They find her yet?”
Annie shook her head, mouth tightening. “Nah. Said she wasn’t on the early train, but they gonna keep askin’ around. Stack looked like he was ready to knock on every door from here to Jackson.”
Grace blinked. “Wait—why they lookin’ for Mary?”
You looked up, gaze drifting across the room—to Remmick, who was now listening to Sammie on the stage, head tilted like he was listening something sacred.
You swallowed, the weight of it still raw on your chest. Annie must’ve felt it too, ‘cause she waved a hand like she was swatting a fly. “’Cause she sold off her mama’s house right out from under our girl here.”
Grace’s whole face changed—surprise, then disbelief, and then a sharp anger that rolled across her like a storm cloud. “She did what?”
You didn’t say anything, just kept wiping the same bottle that didn’t need any more wiping. Annie saw it, patted your arm once.
“Don’t worry,” she said to Grace, glancing at you with a teasing glint in her eye. “White boy got her a new house. Real nice, too.”
Grace’s jaw dropped, then curved into a smirk. “You mean to tell me—? Oh, those things you picked out at the shop... they really gonna come in handy now, huh? You say thank you yet?”
You shot her a glare. “Mind ya business, Grace.”
Annie hummed. “That means she didn’t!”
“I will,” you muttered, cheeks warm.
Then you glanced back over your shoulder.
Remmick was laughing—shoulders shaking, mouth open—at something Sammie had said. Stack leaned into the counter beside him, and even Smoke had cracked a grin. Bo tossed in a one-liner that made the whole crew snort, and Delta Slim tilted his head in a way that almost looked like approval.
You blinked.
He was fitting in.
He was fitting in just fine.