Page 25 of From the Wreckage
I hear her stomach growl and grin at her. “Hungry?”
She puts a hand on her stomach, laughing. “Just a little.”
Taking her hand, I lead her across the dock and toward the back deck of my cabin. I nod toward the grill I bought the other day on a whim. “Steaks?” I ask, gesturing at it.
She perks up. “Only if you let me make the sides.”
I shake my head. “You’re not lifting a damn thing. You’re still healing.” I pull her inside my cabin, already pulling the steaks from the fridge.
Her hands go to her hips, her hazel eyes flashing with annoyance. “I can manage baked potatoes and veggies without collapsing. I’ll even let you supervise if it makes you feel better.”
I fight a losing battle against the smile tugging at my mouth.Stubborn angel. “Fine. But you’re staying inside. I’ll handle the grill.”
Her answering grin is blinding.
I show her where everything is in the kitchen, my heart stuttering at how natural it feels to have her here—opening cabinets, humming under her breath while she rinses vegetables like she belongs in this space. Like she belongswith me.
I step onto the back deck, light the grill, and set the steaks on. Smoke curls into the air, mixing with the scent of pine and lake water. For the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel something close to contentment.
We eat on the deck, the lake spread out in front of us, the conversation easy. Afterward, she helps me clean up, ignoring my grumbling about it, then asks about the repairs I’ve been working on. I show her the new railing I reinforced, the shed I’m halfway through fixing, and the patch of the porch that still needs sanding.
She listens like every word matters. No one’s ever done that for me.
Her phone buzzes, and I see the shift in her face before she even reads it. She swipes the screen, her lips pressing tight. “My dad,” she says, her voice softer now. “He’ll be home around three-thirty.”
Unease prickles in my gut. I don’t ask why her expression dims because I already know. She’s worried what he’d think if he knew she spent the day with me—an older man.
I swallow down the disappointment and force a nod. “I’ll walk you back.”
She stands on her tiptoes and kisses me—softly and quickly, but it’s enough to set my blood burning again.
We hold hands as we take the lakeside trail in the direction of her cabin. Our eyes lock and hold when we get to the spot where she tripped and I caught her.
At her property line, I kiss her again, longer this time, memorizing the taste of her before I have to let her go.
She waves once, then disappears inside the house, the silence crashing around me.
I stand there like an idiot long after she’s gone, then turn toward my cabin. My chest is hollow.
It’s insane how quickly she’s gotten under my skin. But the truth is undeniable.
The second she’s gone, I’m already missing her.
CHAPTER 18
Brielle
The days blurtogether in the best way. Every morning after my dad leaves for work, Everett and I walk the trail around the lake, his long strides slowing just enough for me to keep pace. When we return, we sit on his porch with steaming mugs of coffee, the sunlight dappling through the trees. We talk about everything and nothing. He listens while I tell him stories about university life—late-night cramming, my roommate Meghan’s obsession with reality TV, the time a raccoon broke into our trash bins. I skip over Joey. I don’t want to taint these mornings with him.
On Wednesday, he takes me on a motorcycle ride. It’s exhilarating with the wind tangling in my hair, his solid back warm against my chest, and my arms holding onto his waist. We end up at The Pine & Page, sinking into mismatched chairs by the window. My iced caramel latte drips condensation onto my palm while he nurses a plain black coffee.
He watches me over the rim of his cup, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “You realize the way you drink that stuff makes it look like a full-blown addiction, right?”
I lift my cup, putting the straw between my lips, and take a long, noisy sip just to annoy him. “They’re my guilty pleasure. I drink them as often as I can.”
He shakes his head, but the warmth in his eyes makes my chest ache.
By the time we leave, the clouds have darkened, indicating a storm is rolling in. We reach his cabin just as the first fat drop falls. Everett pulls the bike into the garage while the thunder rumbles, but I don’t wait inside.
