Page 12 of Love By a Landslide

Gross.

I’m on my way to get some dinner. Talk to you later.

Todd:

XOXOX

Chapter six

Jonathan

The sun was just beginning to dip below the Wenatchee Mountains to the west of Leavenworth as Jonathan walked up the crooked steps to The Rooftop Tavern. The warm orange glow of the sunset followed him inside as he scanned the place, spotting his friends sitting in their usual spot just off the bar rail.

“Hey, Jonathan.” Miguel beckoned with one hand while the other draped casually around the back of his wife’s chair. “We saved you a seat. There’s another pitcher of Alpenhaze coming.”

“Thanks, guys. I could use a beer, busy day. Looks like it’ll be the trend for the summer too.” Jonathan made his way around the table and plopped into his seat. He grabbed the nearly empty pitcher and poured the remaining dregs into a clean pint glass. Turning to his right, he tugged playfully on his sister’s braid. “How was the river today?”

Frankie smiled and swatted at her brother’s hand. “It was great. I led a group of elementary teachers visiting from Olympia down some challenging runs. They did surprisingly well and followed directions to a T.”

He swallowed another mouthful of room-temperature beer, nodding. “It makes for a better day when you have a good group.”

“Plus, with the heavy rain lately, the rapids have beenraging. It was so exciting! There were a few spots where I thought for sure we were gonna flip, but then we . . .” Frankie trailed off, clocking expressions of warning from around the table.

It had been four years since Jonathan’s wife, Cynthia, died in the rafting accident, and yet his friends still avoided any topic that could be traced back to her. That first year, the concern had been appreciated—he was an absolute wreck—but it was starting to get old. He reassured them constantly and managed to get the business back in the black. Hell, he even made sure they saw him on casual dates. How else was he supposed to convince them that he’d moved on?

Maybe don’t panic anytime Janet suggests I lead a rafting trip?

“Oh, uh, sorry. Shit.” Frankie stammered as a flush crept up her neck and onto her cheeks. She nervously twisted the end of her braid—honey blonde, a few shades lighter than his hair—and stared down at her beer. “You know I have foot-in-mouth disease. I’m really sorry—”

Jonathan set down his glass and wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders.

“Stop. You’re fine. We make over half of our revenue from white water. I’m ok talking about the conditions and how the runs go. I realize all of you are just trying to look out for me, but I really am ok. Better than ok, I’m great. You guys gotta give it a rest, ok?”

“Say ‘ok’ one more time, and we’ll believe you,” Zac murmured from the other side of Frankie.

“Zac,” Miguel cautioned under his breath.

“We just worry.” Frankie’s brows drew together, unease etched on her face.

Jonathan appreciated her trying to help him deal with the fallout of Cynthia’s death, but it wasn’t her responsibility. It was his to deal with on his own. Millers handle their own messes, keeping their chin up and shoulders back in the process. He didn’t need his kid sister to fix him.

I don’t need to be fixed, period.

The group sat awkwardly silent for a minute.

“So? Did you guys get the baby shower invitations yet?” a very pregnant Kristen asked the group, thankfully changing the subject. Miguel reached out and took her hand, smiling down at his wife’s enormous belly then back up to her face. The love was so apparent in his googly-eyed expression. The man had it bad.

Jonathan ignored the envy that crept up his chest.

“I did,” Frankie piped up. Zac and Jonathan nodded. “Have you guys settled on a name yet?”

“The front runner is Charles, after my dad, but we still have time to see what sticks,” Miguel said. The group responded with various approving comments.

“Charles, I like it.” Jonathan continued, “I’d call him Chuck, of course. Gotta have a nickname.”

“We like Charlie as a nickname.” Kristen smiled at Miguel, who lazily drew circles over her bump.

“Yeah . . . Charlie is good . . .” Jonathan grinned cheesily. “But he’d be Chuck to me, and I could teach him the Name Game.”

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