Page 62 of Brewbies
His…mother?
Oh, thank God. Or whomever.
The relief Darby felt was immediate and intense. Of all the shit-awful luck that had befallen her in the past several days, at least her dirty dalliance with Townsend Harbor’s favorite son remained a secret.
“So,” Gemma said, bringing a cuticle to her teeth. “How long have you and Ethan been fucking?”
Had Darby been sipping a relaxing beverage at that precise moment, Gemma would have been treated to a full-on spit take.
“Excuse me?” she sputtered.
“You. Ethan. Tapping ass. Shaking sheets. Planting the parsnip. Bam-bam in the ham. Squat thrusts in the cucumber patch. Amorous congress of a carnal nature. You follow?”
“I do, but—”
“There’s no use denying it.” Gemma’s grin broadened. “I’ve known Ethan since I was basically a zygote, and he’s about as hard to read as a billboard. Might was well tell me everything, seeing as I basically run this town and you definitely need my help.”
And to her utter surprise, Darby told her.
About meeting Ethan in the Canadian bar. Their first run-in at her coffee camper. Her talk with Roy. The woodshop. The swing. All of it.
When she was finished, Gemma stared straight ahead as if in a trance. Eyes glossy. Pupils dilated. Lips lightly parted on shallow breaths as she fanned her flushed cheeks with a dog-eared copy ofCrochet Today.
“Do you have a cigarette?” she asked. “Because I don’t even smoke, but I really feel like a need a cigarette.”
“Sorry,” Darby said. “Gave it up during radiation.”
Blowing out a long breath, Gemma sagged onto the wooden stool behind the register and gulped water from a bottle covered with various knitting-related stickers.
“Okay,” she said, the hectic color finally receding from her cheeks. “What’s our plan?”
Ourplan.
Until that precise moment, Darby hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed this.
She’d spent so much self-imposed time alone since she’d left Boston that she’d forgotten what it felt like to just talk—really talk—to someone, anyone, without worrying what they wanted from her, what might hide behind their kindness.
How long had it been since she had an ally? A confidante.
Sure, when she was been in Boston, she’d occasionally whined to Tony Two Toes and Gabe Kelly, both of them frequently offering to “take care of” her problems in ways she suspected might involve bone chips in Miami apartment blocks.
Not exactly ideal, given the current situation.
Darby placed her elbows on the counter and leaned in toward her new friend. “I need everything you’ve got on Caryn Townsend.”
THIRTEEN
Hand Pump
FIVE DAYS LATER
A squawking radiobroke Ethan from his exhausted stupor.
It wasn’t that he awoke driving his car through the uptown Victorian mansion thoroughfare, but he couldn’t exactly remember how he got there.
A handful of sleepless nights would do that to a guy.
Not only had he been haunted in the dark by the memory of having Darby in his arms, but his goddamned radio had been jumping since four a.m.
