Page 19 of Someone You Deserve

Plus, the last thing I want to do is fail and make a mockery of myself. That’s why I always blend into the background. I don’t like the fucking attention. I’ve seen what that’s been like for my siblings, and nope. I’m good.

But lately, I just want more for my life. I guess death has a funny way of making you question how you’re living.

My mood instantly sours. “It sounds like you’re wanting to piss me off already this morning, Grady.”

Chuckling, he says, “No, just checking on you.”

“And why is that?”

“Well, for starters, my sister just took a leap of faith on a new business, your brother is doing well, Parker mentioned trying to buy the practice from Dr. O’Neil, and you’re still…”

“Just the local fix-it guy?”

He tips his head to the side and shrugs. “Yeah. And you could have so much more, man.”

Staring at the sky, I momentarily debate telling him about the house I’m in escrow on right now. But until those keys are in my hand later today, I don’t want to jinx it. Confiding in my mom is one thing, but telling others isn’t something I want to deal with just yet. And the look on his face when he finds out later will be worth the wait. “Look, I appreciate you worrying about me, but maybe the real issue is that you need to get a life so you’re not so fixated on mine.”

“I have a life.”

“Really? What do you do after work? Or on the weekends?”

“Work on rebuilding the Nova,” he says, gesturing to the ’73 Nova he’s had under a sheet in this garage since he bought the place.

“Really? Looks like it’s going really well.”

Grady laughs again and holds his hands up. “All right, I can take a hint. Just wanted to see where your head was at this morning.”

“My head is fucking fine.”

“All you do is work, Penn—and for other people. If you’re not careful, you’ll burn yourself out with nothing to show for it.”

Reaching for the handle on the door to my truck, I say, “I like being busy. Gives me less time to think.”

With a tip of his chin, he says, “Can’t say you’re wrong about that. Catch you this weekend?”

“Are you coming to Bentley’s soccer game?”

“Most likely. I was gonna have Chet manage the place that morning so I could take a break. You think you guys will make it to the championship in a few weeks?”

“If we keep playing like we have been, then yeah.”

“Cool. Then I’ll see you there.”

After I settle into the driver’s seat and crank the engine, I take off for the boardwalk, hoping Astrid is ready for me to start tearing her bakery apart.

Nestled right by our town’s namesake cove, the bakery and my sister’s photography studio are in a prime location. Just across the street, the tranquil waters of the cove are right at your toes. Dallas’s restaurant is a short walk up the boardwalk, too, so it makes it easy for me to shuffle around between work and helping out where I’m needed.

Well, because…that’s what I do.

The bell above the front door chimes as I walk in, and the sweet smell of sugar and cinnamon fills the air. I take a moment to look around, taking note of the same walls, tables, and chairs that have been here since I was a kid and Dallas and I used to ride our bikes to thebakery to get donuts on Saturday mornings. I guess I never really paid attention to the inside because I was more fixated on getting two or three donuts in my mouth, but Astrid is right. The place desperately needs some life brought back to it.

“Hey! Sorry about that, I had to put a batch of blueberry muffins in the oven,” Astrid says as she emerges from the back of the bakery, a light pink apron tied around her waist and her hair tossed up in a clip. A few pieces have fallen out, framing her face, but it’s the flour on the tip of her nose that really catches my attention.

“No problem. I just got here,” I reply, looking around at the aged paint and furniture. “Just taking a look at what we’re working with.”

“I can’t wait until you work your magic, Penn. But do you mind coming back to the kitchen while we talk so I can multitask?”

“Of course.”

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