Page 68 of Someone You Deserve

“Believe me, I know. I never imagined my husband would die. I knew it was a possibility, but I never thought it’d happen to me.”

“What has Penn said about everything?”

I shake my head. “We haven’t talked yet. Actually, he’s supposed to come over tonight. I thought maybe you could help me figure out how to handle this before then.”

“Well, what do you want, Astrid? Are you willing to take a risk and really see where this could go? Or do you want to keep things the way they are?”

I chew on my bottom lip. “I don’t think I can go back. Not now that I know how it feels to be with him. And it’s not just the sex. But something between us shifted last night, and I really do want to explore that.”

“Then you know what you need to do. You need to talk to Penn and tell him what you’re feeling. And when the time is right, open up to him about Brandon.”

“I don’t want him to remember his best friend in a harsh light, but how do I start a new relationship without thinking about the old one, without being truthful with a new man about what I didn’t get from the last one?”

“I know it’s tricky, but as the man of your future, he deserves to know the parts of your past you don’t want to repeat.”

Chapter eleven

Penn

Age Sixteen

“Grab that hammer and come over here.” My father motions to the tool with his free hand, and as soon as I retrieve it, he points to where he wants me to place the nail. “That’s it. Secure right here too.” He points to the next spot.

As soon as the nails are in place, he stands up again and brushes the sweat from his brow. “Well done, Penn.”

“Thanks. It looks good,” I reply, surveying our last few hours of work even though the last thing I wanted to do was come out here and help him with this today.

“Looks a hell of a lot better than it did before now, doesn’t it?”

While most teenage boys are sleeping in on Saturdays, my father drug me out of bed to spend the last six hours repairing a wheelchair ramp to one of the buildings at the Carrington Cove Veteran’s Center. Ever since my father was honorably discharged from the Marines when I was little, this has been his home away from home, the place he dedicates his time to and the job he works now to help pay our bills. And when he commissions my help, I spend a lot of time here too.

“Sheppard.” Hank Lyle, one of the staff sergeants here, comes up to me and my father, shaking my dad’s hand. “Thanks for getting this done on such short notice.”

“It’s the least we could do.”

“Once a Marine, always a Marine, right?” Hank says.

My father nods, his face almost stoic. “Yes, sir.”

“Now I know this is just about finished, but I have a few more projects that need some attention as well. Care to stop by my office before you leave so we can figure out a timeline to get those things done?”

“Of course. Penn and I just need to finish up here. We’ll save the painting for tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. See you in a bit.” Hank saunters off and my father motions for me to start picking up our tools.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Let’s get this done, see what else Hank needs, and then grab some lunch. My treat.”

A little over an hour later, I’m sitting across from my father at Deedee’s Sandwich Shop, a local spot in town that always has a line out the door. “Are you going to make me get up at six again tomorrow?” I ask him, already dreading his answer.

“I need your help, Penn.”

“Why can’t Parker help, or one of the other guys at the center?” I groan as I toss a chip in my mouth.

My father takes a moment to consider this before responding. “Well, if Dallas were here, he’d be helping us. But your brother chose to leave, and that means that I need your help the most now, especially since Parker’s not quite old enough yet.”

Dallas left just a few months ago for basic training for the Marines. It’s been weird without him at home, and for the first time in my life, I feel like most of the attention is on me, and I don’t fucking like it.

“Why is it so important? What do you get out of helping around the center? Or helping Mrs. Hansen fix her pipes?” I shake my head. “I just don’t get it.”

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