Chapter Thirty-One
Travis looked around his crowded living room with a sense of satisfaction. The last time it had been this full was at his dad’s wake. Tonight, instead of casseroles and jello molds, Jamey Sinclaire and Dottie had driven the food truck over and set out platters of sliders, French fry cups, and a fancy kind of coleslaw. In the spirit of election night, they’d invited everyone to cast votes for their favorite slider. The winner would be featured on their menu and called The Sheriff.
A small group was gathered around the television he’d brought downstairs, others were checking their phones as the results trickled in. Dax stirred in his lap and burrowed deeper into his shoulder, lightly snoring. He eyed Elaine. “What do you think? Should I take him upstairs?”
She nodded. “
