Page 98 of The Bridges I've Burned

“Just a few people,” he’d assured me. “Bring whatever.”

Considering my last few days had been virtually Elena-free, I was willing to basically attend any event—tainted lawn furniture be damned—if it meant I got to see her. If Marin didn’t give Elena some time off soon, I’d be forced to steal her a way for a day or two. We were running out of time.

me

Do you want to drive to the cookout together? I’m running to the market to pick up something to bring, but I can swing by.

Elena

I’m actually already here. But could you pick up some extra dessert? Marin is hormonal.

me

And brownies will fix that?

Elena

Well, coffee would be her first choice, but…

me

Bring all the brownies. Got it.

I swung by the coffee shop and managed to swipe the last of their brownies and homemade potato salad. I also threw in a dozen cookies and a few Rice Krispies treats.

I wasn’t sure who I was trying to impress more—Marin or Elena. Either way, I was stocked up on sweets.

I also dropped by the local market and picked up a small gift for Marin and Macon. Weren’t you supposed to always show up to a party with a gift?

Our parents hadn’t exactly sent us to etiquette classes or whatever, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

I’d spent the morning trying to convince myself that I could keep pace with my brother in the North Carolina heat. I did my fair share of running and weight training back in LA, but if it was hot, my pampered ass ran on a treadmill.

This—this—was bullshit.

My brother ran in one hundred percent humidity like it was a frosty day in December. The sweat rolled down his back while I panted and begged for water. The fucker seemed completely unbothered.

I knew he was ex-military, but even this seemed unnatural.

I’d spent the rest of the day answering a few emails, signing some documents Saul had sent over, and squeezing in some much-needed practice time.

Pulling up to the curb of Macon’s house, I collected all the food and the small gift and headed toward the door. A homemade sign was taped to it that said, Drop the food in the kitchen!!! We’re in the back!!!

So many exclamation points…

I followed the instructions and headed inside. Macon and Marin’s kitchen island was covered with food. Everything from ribs and hot dogs to guacamole and chips. I dropped the desserts near a plate of cupcakes and squeezed the pasta salad somewhere in the middle with everything else. I headed outside with the gift clutched tightly between my hands, already regretting it.

I should have known by the number of cars outside that this was no small cookout.

Half of Ocracoke seemed to be crammed in this tiny backyard.

“Zander!” several people shouted and waved.

Drunk, too, by the sound of it…

I scanned the yard, looking for my brother, and recognized several friendly faces—Jake and Molly, Billy and Eli. I finally found Macon with his arm slung over his fiancée, drinking a Coke Zero, as she munched on a plate piled high with chips, talking with Dean Sutherland—who had also gone to school with Macon—about some Netflix show. I caught his attention, and he waved me over.

“So, this is just a few people?” I looked around with a grin.

---