Page 17 of End Game
Branch begins to choke, causing us all to jump. When I turn around, he’s sitting at the table, his eyes wide, trying to get himself composed. “Sorry,” he coughs. “Too much creamer.” He glances at me, a shit-eating grin on his face.
“You have a problem with me completing my tasks today?” I ask, pressing my lips together to keep from smiling.
“Nope. I hope youbang them all out.”
Poppy’s laugh beside me catches my attention and makes me realize she and Finn weren’t paying a bit of attention to Branch’s comment. With a shake of my head, I turn to my brother.
“What are you guys doing today?” I ask. “I thought you and Branch might take the boat out or something.”
“We might. But I need to run in and pay my bill at Crave first, and unless Machlan’s machine is running which you know it’s probably not, I’ll have to head to the ATM and get cash.”
“Can you take that much cash from an ATM? Isn’t there a limit?” Branch jokes.
“Fuck off,” Finn says, turning his attention to Poppy. “Hey, uh, didn’t you say you needed something from town?”
“Oh, uh, yes,” she says, thinking on the fly. “I do. A lot of things.”
I look at my friend. “What could you possibly need from town?”
“Oh, just some things I couldn’t fit in my suitcase. Essentials, you know.”
“Such as . . .” I goad.
“Diet Coke,” she offers. “Sunscreen. A fucking phone charger, okay? Does it matter?”
Branch and I die laughing as her cheeks turn red.
“You are so full of shit,” I say, catching my breath as she struts out of the room.
“I’d ask you to go,” my brother says to Branch, “but, you know . . .”
“No worries. I’ll stay here and . . . behave.”
“I’m gonna trust you fear me enough to do just that,” Finn says, clasping him on the shoulder. “You good, sis?”
“I’m good. Tell Machlan I said hi. And if Peck’s there, tell that bastard he owes me. He’ll know what for.”
“Peck?” Poppy asks, sticking her head around the corner. “Is that someone’s real name?”
“It’s a nickname,” Finn laughs, guiding her towards the door. “We’ll let you figure out what for.”
My toes wiggle into the soft, golden sand as I close my notebook. The sun is warm, but not too hot as I sit on the beach and finally get some work done.
The words came fast and easy today. That doesn’t happen often. The ideas I had for blog posts came to life and I mapped out an entire fall series in the last hour.
My chin lifts to the sun and I close my eyes and revel in the satisfaction of feeling my life get back on track. Since my break-up, I’ve spent the last three months in chaos. Moving from Columbus, getting settled, and finding more freelance writing work to support my new digs in Chicago left me exhausted and uninspired.
A new idea pops into my mind and when I open my eyes, I scream. Branch laughs, dropping onto the sand beside me.
“How did you not hear me?” he asks. “I even stepped on some kind of burr back there and shouted some pretty ungentlemanly things.”
“I don’t think anyone has ever accused you of being a gentleman.”
“You don’t know that. My grandma happens to think I’m the sweetest boy she’s ever known.”
“She had how many daughters?”
He laughs, putting his arms back into the sand and stretching his long, lean body out in the sun. Wearing only a pair of white and green swim trunks and a necklace of some sort, he sits only inches away. My eyes refuse to look anywhere but at the lines cut into his abs.
