"Hey, Darlin," Hunter answers the phone as I approach the window. It's raining so hard it looks like it's coming down in sheets.

"Hey, I was hoping to catch you before you stopped for food, it's bad and getting worse; head straight here, okay?"

"Too late. I already got pizza."

"You didn't happen to get enough for four, did you?" I ask.

"They're both still there? You're kidding me, right?"

"Julian's gone. Oliver's still here, and Brandi came by too."

"Alright," he says quietly. "Well, I got two pizzas, you know, for the bonus dinner, so we should have enough."

I snicker at that; during our summer road trip, we'd often eat again at two AM to absorb all the alcohol we drank and avoid the hangover the next day. We started calling it our bonus dinner and planning for it after one too many nights of ramen noodles or Easy Mac.

"Think Fancy-Pants still eats pizza, or should I make an extra stop for steak and lobster?"

"Hunter, be nice," I scold, just like Brandi did to Oliver.

"I offered lobster. Is that not nice?"

I hear a loud clap of thunder and realize it's coming from the phone, not the window.

"Wait a second," I say as my eyes narrow. "Are you talking to me while you're driving in this storm?"

"Oh shit, am I in trouble?"

"Yes!" I say and then hang up with a huff.

How many times have I told him? Just because it's a big truck does not make it or him indestructible. The sky lights up with lighting, and thunder rumbles through the sky, making me shudder. The sooner he's home so I can scowl at him in person, the better.

I walk back into the kitchen, where Brandi is showing Oliver her phone, and he's looking on with a stunned expression.

"He's Billy's twin!" Oliver muses.

"Right? And this Sara with her mom Stephanie," she says as she scrolls.

"Is this the same Stephanie from the homecoming dance? The one that-"

I try to catch his eye to tell him not to say it or the other name attached to that story, but Brandi cuts in first.

"Yeah, same one," Brandi says quickly as she puts her phone down.

"She married Billy? How did that happen?"

"Oliver -" I cut in, and when he finally looks at me, I give a slight head shake, and his eyes fill with a concerned look of understanding.

"Sorry, Brandi. I was being nosy; of course, you don't want to talk about all that," Oliver says quickly.

"It's okay, Olly- Uh, Oliver," Brandi says as she lets out a breath of air. "So, we don't talk about that shit, but I'll give you the short version. Billy and Stephanie stayed close after everything went down. He was and still is the only guy she trusts, and he's always been in love with her. Even the dealing started because he needed to find a hookup for her. The way she copes with her bad days is numbing herself with weed, and I know I call her a stoner and get annoyed with her. But I also understand her, and I'll always take care of her too."

"Billy came a long way from the kid he was sorry he ended up where he is," Oliver offers. I can see the questions still burning his eyes, and I know he wants to know more, but he knows better than to push it. Even I don't know the whole story, as it was something Brandi was only willing to share once, and it was to help Stephanie. I do hope someday though she does open that box because I think she needs to.

"Speaking of twins," I change the subject and see Brandi visibly relax. I walk over to the fridge; pulling a photo of Harley from the fridge, I hand it to Oliver. "Harley."

"Whoa, he's identical! Hunter had a kid?" Oliver looks up, stunned. "What, how?"

"You should know how that works by now," Brandi teases, and I laugh.

"Cute, Brandi," Oliver shoots back.

"I know I am," she says with a bit of a chair-shimmy, and he rolls his eyes.

"He was married, but they got divorced a year ago," I explain to Oliver, who looks more confused.

"You'll meet her, Amber. She works at the diner," Brandi adds. "The leggy brunette with a resting bitch face."

I can't help but laugh at that.

"Really? This is so- not what I expected."' Oliver looks stunned and stares momentarily before handing it back to me.

"What? What do you mean?" I ask, but before he can answer, the door opens and slams shut from the wind.

"Holy shit, it's nuts out there," Hunter's voice fills the air as he walks into the kitchen to join us.

I forget I was supposed to scold him when my eyes fall on him. His wet inky hair hangs in his face, and his white tee shirt is soaked through and clinging to every muscle beneath it. It's nearly impossible not to gape at him. As he sets down the soggy pizza boxes on the counter, he holds onto a smaller box holding it up tauntingly.

Is that my favorite...?

"You can't stay mad at me, Kinz. I brought cheesecake," he confirms my hopes as I reach for it, but Hunter holds it up and out of my reach.

"Nuh uh, not till you say I'm all forgiven," he teases, and I scowl.

"You can't use cheesecake as a bargaining chip like that, Hunter." I jump towards him, reaching for the box, but he jerks it away just in time. "It's not fair," I whine loudly.

"All you have to do is forgive me, Lil Darlin," he says smoothly as he brushes a wet strand of hair back from his forehead.

"All you have to do is not risk your life in the pouring rain, Hunter," I reply as I give him a stern look.

"One, that truck is made for the mud and rain," he starts, and I roll my eyes; here we go. "Two, it would be rude of me not to answer your call, and I could never, and three-" He hands me the box. "Of course, you can have your cheesecake."

"I won't answer the phone while driving, most likely recklessly, in a storm, was not on that list," I comment as I take the box from him.

"It wasn't? Huh. that's weird." Hunter smirks but doesn't bother to add it because we both know he will.

"Jesus you're like an old married couple," Brandi is laughing as she stands and starts rummaging in the cabinet for plates and then brings some paper ones over to the table, along with the now half-emptied bottle of wine.

Oliver is quiet, looking down at his phone, seemingly distracted by something. I look away just before he catches me studying him as he looks up from his phone.

"Hunter." He greets him with one word, but politely, so there's that.

"Hey, Oliver," Hunter offers. "Hi, Brandi."

"Thanks for the pizza," Brandi says.

"No problem," Hunter says as he grabs my dad's flannel from a hook on the pantry door in the kitchen. He pulls his soaked shirt off, and as I gape openly at his muscled chest and taut abs, he does catch me staring and winks, causing my cheeks to burn.

"Keep your shirt on, Magic Mike," Oliver scoffs.

"I'm soaked; for Christ's sake, what am I supposed to do?" Hunter snarks back.

"Uh, I don't know; change anywhere else," Oliver replies.

"Leave him alone, Oliver, he's all wet, and we don't want him catching a cold," Brandi comments as she whirls around in her chair to join me in my gaping." Maybe you should take your pants off too."

"Brandi!" I scold with a giggle as I open the mini box. The turtle cheesecake inside calls me instantly, and I dig in right at the counter.

"So...?" Hunter asks with a smirk.

"You're forgiven," I say, closing my eyes as I savor it.

"You want any dinner, Darlin?" Hunter asks as he moves the pizza boxes to the table.

"I met with my ex-husband today. I deserve dessert first," I reply.

"Touche," Oliver agrees as he looks up at me. "For Julian, you should get the whole cake."

"Yeah, he's a total tool, ain't he?" Hunter agrees as he sits down at the table.

He's sitting next to the chair I was in, which is coincidentally next to Oliver, but Hunter leaves a lot of space between them. Brandi is sitting on the other side of Oliver and starts passing out the plates she brought over.

  As Hunter opens the pizza box and they all reach in, I blink, watching them; I can see them all, all those years ago, doing this as teens. After a harvest, a study session, or just a random evening, hanging out right here at my table on the farm.

It's funny how much we change, but at the same time, we don't.

"You want a beer, Hunter?" I'm already heading to the fridge to get him one before he can answer anyway, so he just nods as he shoves pizza in his face.

As I rummage in the fridge, I grab Hunter a beer from my dad's case and then notice a little pan with a freshly prepared apple cobbler. Of course, she did; I didn't even think to look and see if she did earlier.

I grab the beer in one hand and the little pan in the other. I toss the beer to Hunter as I hold up the pan. "Oliver, I think it's safe to say my mama made this for you."

Oliver's eyes go wide, and he starts grinning. "No way! Is that cobbler? I'm eating dessert first, too." he slides his pizza plate away like it offends him.

"Well, let me warm it up first," I laugh as I turn on the oven. "Looks like she prebaked it last night, so it'll just take ten minutes."

"I seriously have dreamed of that," Oliver says longingly. "I can't believe she made it for me."

I grab my glass of wine and cheesecake and sit back down to join them. Taking a long sip before taking another bite. "Wine and cheesecake, a pair made in heaven."

"How can you eat someone else's cheesecake when you live here?" Oliver questions as I sip the wine.

"Well, don't tell her," I scold Oliver playfully. "She never mastered cheesecake, which is my favorite, so..."

"It's impossible to make, or so I hear," Brandi agrees as she helps herself to more of my cheesecake, and I top off my wine again.

"I thought your favorite was that chocolate chip cake with the buttercream frosting," Oliver comments.

Hunter laughs. "Yeah, so does Betsy."

"Hey!" I defend, "I love that cake too; a person can have more than one favorite."

"Exactly," Brandi agrees. "I just added this cheesecake to my list."

"Actually, by definition, a favorite is something preferred before all others of the same kind, so you literally cannot have more than one favorite," Oliver says.

"Well, the definition is wrong then because you can," I argue as I pick up my wine glass and sip from it. "Take wine, for example; I love this rose just as much as any other chilled white."

"And I like tequila and whiskey all the same," Brandi agrees as she reaches for the whiskey bottle, and Hunter chuckles.

"Sure, but at the end of the day, both of you would have a drink you prefer over the others," Oliver counters.

"It depends on the day," Brandi says. "Sunday morning, Bloody Mary, so it's vodka, Friday night margarita, so it's tequila, long never-ending shift, strong whiskey."

"That's not necessarily favorites; that's just how you like to get drunk," Oliver says as he stifles a laugh.

"But her point makes sense," I argue, and then I look to Hunter for help." Tell him!"

"The thing is," Hunter reaches for my dad's whiskey and steals my glass from earlier, putting a decent-sized shot in there and slowly sipping it as he contemplates. "I'm sort of set in my ways, so I can't help you much, Darlin. My favorite drink is an IPA, liquor is whiskey, food is ribs, movie is Diehard, singer is Johnny Cash, and - my favorite person has been the same since I laid eyes on her some twenty years ago."

"Oh my gosh," Brandi gushes as my heart pretty much melts right there and then. My eyes meet Hunter's, and he gives me a soft smile that I can't help but return.

...What were we even talking about again?

Oliver clears his throat.

Right favorites... my gaze flits from Oliver back to Hunter, and then I busy myself sipping wine before that intrusive thought makes its way to my brain.

"Hunter is an old cowboy type set in his ways. The rest of us have lots of favorites," Brandi says; she hates giving up on a debate; she always gets the last word at the bar. "Like, I doubt that spaghettios is still your favorite, Olly."

"Oliver," he corrects her, "and you're right, our favorites can change throughout time, and sometimes maybe we don't even know which we prefer the most, but there is one there's always a favorite."

"Hmf," she sulks, but I can see she's giving up the fight as she picks her wine back up.

Oliver's soft, brown-eyed gaze meets mine, and the intrusive thought I brushed aside earlier is written all over his face; he's not talking about drinks or desserts. Hunter went ahead and made it clear who his favorite person is and was. I disagree with Oliver here because there have been many times in my life when I would die before choosing a favorite out of the two of them. Where I literally could not. However, when Oliver and I were together, it was one hundred percent him, even if he doesn't believe that.

A loud crack of thunder sounds like it splits the sky open, and the shutters bang against the house from the wind.

"Getting worse," I murmur as Hunter stands and peers out the kitchen door for a moment; he then opens it and steps out to the porch.

"The rain slowed some," he says as he steps back in. "But the whole sky is flashing with lightning. We're probably in the calm before it really hits hard."

"Last of the wine," Brandi adds as she pours the rest of the bottle into her glass. "Think your mama has any more in her special hiding spot?"

"Nope, I looked this weekend," I laugh and then look towards Hunter. "Mama likes to hide an emergency bottle of wine in the pantry behind the macaroni noodles."

He tips his head back and laughs, "Oh, Betsy. I can see that."

"Still the same spot?" Oliver questions as he chuckles too. "She grounded you for two weeks after the grape juice incident."

"The what now?" Brandi asks.

"Long story, that is entirely Olly's fault," I say with a look at him, and he makes a shocked face.

"Me? It was your idea to have a little wine," he retorts with a slight grin. I realize I said the wrong name, but he didn't correct me, so I leave it be.

"But we wouldn't have even noticed an open bottle if you'd let me make grilled cheese like I wanted, but no, you had to have spaghetti at midnight."

"I worked up an appetite," he winks, and I blush.

"I want the whole story!" Brandi demands.

"I mean, it's kind of personal," Oliver snickers, and so do I.

"Not that part of the story," Brandi says with an eye roll. "How was he even at your house that late?"

"I'll be right back," Hunter mutters. "I'm gonna grab that wine from my trailer while the rains slowed."

"You don't have to; we have whiskey-"I start, but he's already leaving and mumbling about his wet jeans.

"Story, please?" Brandi begs, and I smile fondly.

"One second, cobbler first." I get up and retrieve the bubbling pan from the oven setting it by Oliver, who smiles happily at it.

"Okay, so," I say as I sit back down. "My parents were at a wedding that night, so Oliver told Kris he was sleeping at Nate's. We found the open bottle and it only had one glass missing, and we thought we could share one, and she wouldn't notice. Then we shared one more after that, and then I realized how much was gone and freaked out. Olly's the one that thought we could replace it with grape juice."

"Temporarily!" He defends as he starts laughing. "I was gonna replace it with one of my mom's. But before I could they invited me to dinner a few nights later, and Betsy has that bottle on the table."

"Oh no," Brandi says as she laughs.

"You should've seen her face," I recall. "She takes one sip and shakes her head. Sets the glass down and goes, 'Kinsey Jane Abbot, go to your room now.'"

Oliver is laughing so hard tears are raining down his face.

"You laugh now! I was terrified! I sat up there for an hour waiting for her to come up and kill me."

"She was too busy laughing to yell at you," Oliver says his cheeks are toasty pink, and I can see he's pretty buzzed. "They weren't even that mad. They called my mom to come to get me, I thought I couldn't hear them from the front porch, but they were cracking up. Your dad even said it tastes better like that, and then your mom must've smacked him 'cause he yelled, ouch!"

Now I'm also cracking up, and so are Brandi and Oliver. By the time I manage to contain myself, I'm also wiping tears from my cheeks.

"I can't believe she continued to hide it there after that," Brandi says, shaking her head. "Remember when she busted us drinking, Kinz?"

"In the act?" Oliver questions.

"Oh yeah! We thought they were sound asleep, and she left less than a quarter bottle, so we thought she'd think she drank it. Then she comes down, and there we are sipping wine. She just stands there staring us down. So Brandi-"

I start laughing at the memory and need a moment to compose myself. "...spits her wine back into the glass and says, 'sorry.'"

At that, we all crack up laughing all over again.

"If this ain't enough for the night, y'all have a problem," Hunter's deep voice fills the room as he steps back in. He sets down my boxed wine and a six-pack on the table, along with his bottle of bourbon. Which is a much better quality than what my dad buys, so I'm glad.

He walks over, slips the flannel off, hanging it back on the hook. I notice he's changed into sweats and a long-sleeved tee, both only slightly dampened from the rain.

Brandi wastes no time grabbing her glass and refilling it.