Page 75 of Catch
“I hate fishing,” Miles grumbled, reeling in his line that hadn’t had a bite all day—mainly because he forgot the bait. I wasn’t about to teach him the ins and outs of fishing, though. Especially when “bait the hook” was the only step I knew. Gramps was supposed to take over for me tomorrow. I was gonna let him explain the basics.
“I gotta go,” I told Easton. “We hate fishing now.”
Easton laughed again and told me he’d see me at dinner. I hung up and stood, making my way to Miles’ side of the boat and grabbed his favorite pole before he had the chance to break it.
“You and I have never had much in common,” I said lightly, hoping to get a smile out of him. “But when you just said you hated fishing right now, I felt closer to you than I ever have.”
“She’s ruined everything,” Miles muttered. “My house reminds me of her. Fishing reminds me of her. My favorite spot on the bank of the lake? Her. I can’t even go to Sunday dinner tonight because she was there too. Everything I love. Ruined.”
“Come on, man. Let’s get this boat back on the trailer, and I’ll buy you a new house. One that won’t remind you of Loxley.”
“You’ll have to buy me a new boat, too,” he added.
“Deal,” I laughed, though I wasn’t kidding. I’d buy the whole damn town if it got me off that lake.
When we got back to Miles’ house, I headed straight for the shower and then changed into something more comfortable—my Armani suit. Maybe it wasn’t comfort in the traditional sense, but being in control made me feel at ease. And being dressed right made me feel in control.
Miles was in the living room holding the lyrics Loxley had left behind. He hadn’t read more than the top page because he said it would be an invasion of her privacy, but I knew better. She’d left them for him to read. I was about to urge him to flip through them when he tossed them onto the coffee table and raked his hands through his hair.
“You going back to work tomorrow?” I asked, trying to gauge where his head was.
“That’s the plan,” he sighed. He loved being a cop, but his heart just wasn’t in it anymore.
“Well, get dressed. I promised everyone I’d drag you to Sunday dinner before I head back to the city tonight. I have a meeting first thing in the morning so I can’t stay here.”
“Good,” he muttered. “I’m tired of you hanging around. You’re a downer.”
I laughed. Poor guy was trying everything he could to deflect. But I wasn’t offended. In fact, I had an idea. Something that might give him the push he needed to do what we all knew he should’ve done days ago.
Go get Loxley.
Chapter Forty-Three
MILES
SUNDAY DINNER
The days blurred togetherin an endless loop of night and day that I barely registered. Sleep came sporadically, food was a distant thought, and everything else happened because West told me to. If you’d asked me, I’d say I was pathetic.
But despite the fact that I mentioned it a few times, I truly never thought she’d run. Not from me. I always knew she’d go back to the stage eventually, but I didn’t think it would be without me in her life. Somehow, I’d convinced myself that what we had or what wewerewas too strong for her to walk away from. Yet, there I was, confused, pissed, hurt, and undeniably heartbroken.
While she was in Harmony Haven, she’d cut herself off from the world, leaving behind the chaos and expectations. She couldn’t have known Sam was in town looking for me. No one knew except me and I didn’t tell her.
Which meant that she left on her own accord and that was the reason I let her go. If Loxley was capable of leaving after the way we made love that last night, then she had to have reallywanted to go. And I loved her enough to give her what she wanted.
At least, that’s what I kept telling myself over and over. But deep down, I knew there was a piece missing in our puzzle. There had to be a gap in the story I was too blind to fill in.
Around me, Sunday dinner played out like it always did. The clatter of dishes, laughter, and the teasing banter between my brothers filled the air. My family left me alone, though. They let me stew in my thoughts. Except for Max, who sat beside me and quietly fed me green beans off his plate one at a time. He didn’t give a shit that I hated green beans and I was too far gone to turn down anything he shoved in my mouth.
Toward the end of dinner, West leaned back in his chair, a sly look on his face as he aimed in my direction.
“Hey, lover boy.” I didn’t answer, just raised an eyebrow to let him know I was listening. “I made some calls before dinner,” he said. “And I just got a text.” He tapped a few buttons on his phone, then looked up at me with a nod. “Check your phone.”
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I glanced at the screen and opened the text West had just sent. He had forwarded me a front-row ticket to Loxley’s concert in Chattanooga on Monday night, and I stared at it for a full minute. I didn’t say thank you. I didn’t say anything. I just gave a small nod, slipped my phone back into my pocket, and stared at the table.
Over the past week, I’d told West I was sure Sam wouldn’t let Loxley out of his sight. He probably had people posted near every entrance at her shows, armed with my picture, ensuring I didn’t show up. I’d joked that I’d have to buy a ticket just to see her. Now, West had handed me one on a silver platter.
Only West could pull strings and throw money around to secure a front-row seat to what was apparently the hottest ticket in country music. From the little I’d caught on the news, Loxley’sreturn to the stage had been met with wild ticket sales and overwhelming buzz.
