Page 16 of From the Wreckage
Me: No problem. Next weekend works.
The rest of the afternoon drags. I try pouring a drink, flipping through the channels, even pacing the length of the cabin like a caged animal. None of it works. Every thought circles back to her.
When dusk finally bleeds into night, I give up pretending I’m not restless. I step outside, the air cooler now, the forest alive with the hum of insects and the low whisper of wind through the trees.
The lake stretches out in front of me, black glass under the moon, still as death except for the faint shimmer where the breeze touches it.
And across the water, through the trees, the faint glow of her cabin windows calls to me.
I should look away. I should turn around and slam the damn door shut behind me.
But I don’t.
I stand there, staring across the lake, hoping for some trace of her. A movement, a shadow, anything to prove she’s there and safe.
And for the first time in a long damn time, I wish the night wasn’t ending.
CHAPTER 12
Brielle
I’m sittingon the couch, my legs drawn up to my chest. My neck is feeling sore and stiff, and my forehead aches from hitting the steering wheel.
Dad’s tires crunch over the gravel drive. My foot bounces uncontrollably, and my stomach twists.
He’s going to take one look at my wrecked vehicle and be pissed?—
His truck door slams shut. Heavy boots pound up the porch, and then he’s inside, his broad frame filling the doorway. His eyes go wide when they land on me.
“Bri.” His voice cracks, and he strides toward me. I’m barely on my feet before I’m wrapped in his arms. His hug squeezes the air out of me, but it also anchors me in place, the way it always has.
The tears I’ve been fighting all afternoon finally break free. “I’m sorry, Dad. You just got me that vehicle and I—” My throat tightens. “I didn’t even have it for a full day.”
“Hey, hey.” He pulls back, his rough hands cupping my face as he studies the bandage on my forehead. His frown deepens. “The SUV doesn’t matter, sweetheart. You do. Are you sure we don’t need to head to the ER?”
I shake my head quickly. “No. I’m fine. It’s cleaned and bandaged.”
He sighs but presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Alright. Then you’re stuck with me fussing over you instead.”
Dinner is his way of taking care of me. He makes one of my favorites, chicken and rice. It’s nothing fancy, but the familiarity helps. I chop vegetables for the rice while he stirs. My knife slows more than once when my thoughts drift to Everett. The way his hands steadied me after the accident. The tingles racing through me from his touch when he brushed my hair back….
I blow out a breath, forcing myself to focus, but the restlessness doesn’t go away.
After dinner, we settle into our usual spaces to watch a movie. I’m on the couch, while Dad is in his usual chair. His snores start rumbling throughout the living room before the halfway point, but my eyes never really stay on the screen anyway. My mind is too loud, too full ofhim.
I’m restless, so I slip out to the back deck. The night air bites at my skin. The trees are a dark silhouette against the moon, and through the thin gaps, light comes from Everett’s cabin. I hug myself, staring at it like maybe if I look long enough, I’ll see him.
My phone feels heavy in my hand. After a long breath, I unlock it and type out the words before I can chicken out.
Me: Just wanted you to know I’m okay.
My heart lurches at the buzz. His response comes almost instantly.
Everett: Glad to hear that.
I bite my lip, warmth crawling up my neck.
Me: Sorry it took so long. My dad came home. We had dinner.
