Page 4 of From the Wreckage
He chuckles. “Worked, didn’t it? You let the damn thing go.”
“I wanted it as a pet.”
“We already had one. A dog.”
My smile dims. “Barney,” I sigh, thinking of his long ears that would drag on the grass, his toenails tapping against the wooden floor of the cabin. “Man, I miss those droopy eyes.”
“Me, too. Thought about getting another Basset.”
“You should. Be good company for you.” A smile lights up my face. “And I could spoil him or her rotten.”
“I have no doubt you would.” He goes quiet, staring at the dark lake. The gentle lapping of the waves against the dock is soothing.
“Remember when you fell off the boat last summer trying to see that giant bass?”
A loud burst of laughter spills out, echoing from the woods. “Good times. Maybe I’ll do it again this summer.”
His smile fades. “I don’t know, Bri. That old boat is on its last legs.”
A pang of sadness hits me. “You don’t think you can fix it?”
He shakes his head. “Wouldn’t be worth it. Better to get a new one.”
I sigh, taking in the familiar landscape. Across the lake, a faint porch light glows through the trees. I think I see movement, but it’s gone before I can be sure. Probably just one of the summer renters.
Still… for some reason, I linger on that light a moment longer before turning back to Dad. “I’m gonna miss that old boat.”
He gives me a sympathetic smile and throws an arm around me.
Things change.
But some things, like nights like this, I hope never do.
CHAPTER 3
Everett
I makea cup of coffee and drink half of it while leaning against the counter.
The cabin still smells faintly of dust and stale air. The kind that settles in when a place sits empty for too long.
I didn’t bother cleaning or unpacking last night. When I finally came inside, I crashed on the old couch that came with the place. But today... I need to give this place a good cleaning and then unpack my stuff.
Two hours later, I’ve cleaned the cabin, unloaded some furniture from the U-Haul, and started unpacking boxes. Most of my things are functional—tools, gear, kitchen basics—nothing sentimental except for the few photographs I didn’t have the heart to throw out.
By late morning, I’ve done enough to make the place feel less like I just moved in and more like I actually live here.
One more thing is needed to make it complete—groceries.
The bellover the door jingles when I walk into Karns Grocery, and an older woman behind the register greets me with a smile that says she probably already wants to know my life story. I flash her a tight smile, scanning the store like I’ve landed on another planet.
Karns is small town to the bone. I didn’t shop much in the city—I had people who did that for me—so this is a new experience. But I know the grocery store there looked nothing like this.
Handwritten signs are taped to various bins as I grab a cart and head to the produce section. I grab some oranges, apples, and bananas. Then to the meat section, checking dates before choosing what’s freshest.
I avoid eye contact and mentally review my list to ensure I have the basics—bread, milk, coffee, and eggs. I’m halfway down the last aisle when I realize I’m not just looking at groceries. I’m searching forher.The brunette from the crosswalk who glowed like she came straight from heaven.
I run a hand through my hair. It’s ridiculous. One small moment, and she’s burned herself into my brain.
