Page 33 of The One Who Got Away
“You look good.” Cam nodded at me. “Damn near sickly when you came home.”
I sighed. “Yeah, I gotta fill everyone in at dinner Sunday.”
We used to do a weekly family dinner, but it was getting harder and harder to get everyone’s schedules to line up. Cam and Rip were the only single ones which meant monthly dinners were about all we could manage.
He paused with the beer at his lips. “Serious?”
“No, well not anymore.”
Cam set his beer against his buckle. “Explain. Now.”
I gave him an abbreviated version of the story and winced when Cam gulped down his entire beer then went over to a crooked cabinet and pulled down his bottle of Johnnie Walker. At least it wasn’t the gold label. He set the black version of the bottle on his worktable then splashed some into two jelly glasses.
He handed me one.
“I knew something was up, but I didn’t realize you were an idiot.”
I sipped the whisky and let the warmth bloom in my chest. “Yeah, well it was a mistake.”
“The idiot part wasn’t the riptide—it was that you didn’t call us. I’d have been down there with you.”
“I know.” I sat forward, cupping the glass. “I didn’t want to worry anyone.”
“So you just sat there by yourself? Dipshit.”
“When Sully called us to come home, I was still in rough shape. And he needed you more than I did.” I pulled up my jeans to show off the angry welts where the jellyfish had done the most damage. “It’s mostly back to normal, but that’s the worst of it.”
He whistled. “Damn, son.”
“I know. I’d have been fine if the little fuckers hadn’t tried to take me out.”
“This is why I only look at the ocean. I don’t get in it.”
I laughed. “Yeah. I can’t say I’m a fan at the moment either.”
“You should bring Eloise Sunday.”
I coughed a little, taking a long sip of my beer to make the burn of the whisky fade.
“Make it official.”
I sat back. “Probably not a bad plan.”
“I’m full of great plans.” He set down his empty glass and picked up his sander. “Now get out of here. I have to finish sanding this bitch so I can get the legs glued back on.
“Fine, fine.”
“Did you come for anything else or just to boast you’ve got a hot redhead.”
I laughed. “No. I just didn’t want to go home yet. The confession was a bonus.”
“You’re still an idiot.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.”
“As long as you know.”
I felt better driving home. Not telling anyone about Costa Rica weighed on me more than I realized.
