Chapter Eight
"Goddammit," Jaxon cursed as his shovel hit another chunk of limestone. Digging postholes in the rocky Flint Hills soil was a pain in the a*s under positive circumstances. Nursing a hangover and already sweat-soaked from the heat and humidity, it was downright miserable. The storm had been a doozy last night - as if the feelings inside of him had come to life in the night sky. He'd loved kissing Izzie. He'd hated seeing the stricken look in her eyes. But a life with her - the life she wanted so desperately - was impossible.
"Fair warning, your mom invited the Capizzis for dinner tonight," his father called from over by the barbed wire spool they'd hauled out to mend the broken fence.
Shit. He'd forgotten all about it. His mother marked this day every year with a feast. And
