Callie was going to hate this.
“So who is she?” Justin asked.
“None of your damn business.” Everett got up to grab a beer from the fridge.
“Wow, we’re touchy, aren’t we? Get me one too, will ya?”
“You come over here to spread gossip, and now you want to drink my beer? You’re lucky I don’t shoot the messenger.”
“I
grabbed your mail on my way up, if that sways your decision on the beer and the shooting.”
Everett opened the fridge and took out the beers. After he handed his brother one, he sifted through the envelopes until he came across one with a return-to-sender stamp.
Damn.
Picking up the offending letter, he tossed it in the trash.
“Cara still not taking your letters?” Justin asked somberly.
“Nope.”
“I’m sorry, man.”
So was he. Cara had been a good friend. Robbie, Cara, and he had all enlisted at the same time and had been thick as thieves. When Robbie and Cara had gotten married, Everett had been standing by as a witness, and when Cara had found out she was pregnant, she’d told Everett first because she’d been bursting with happiness.
But that was before the bomb—and the fire. It was before he’d come home without Robbie.
At first Cara had tried to pretend that she didn’t blame him, but after Cara had given birth to RJ, and Everett had come by to see them at the hospital, she’d broken down, sobbing that her son would never know his father.
“I hate you, Everett, because every time I see you, I wish it had been you and not him. And then I hate myself.”
Cara’s sister had escorted him out, promising that Cara had just needed time. But after that, the cards he’d sent every year on RJ’s birthday, with money for the kid’s college fund, were sent back. Finally, he’d stopped sending money and just sent the card. As each day, month, and finally year went by, Everett grew less certain that Cara would ever forgive him. He’d been told more than once by his father and brother to give up, but he couldn’t. Not until he had closure.
“Man, I don’t know why you keep putting yourself through this,” Justin said. “What happened to Robbie wasn’t your fault. You busted your ass to save him and almost died because of it. She should have been thanking you, because some men would have just bailed—”
“I know how you feel, Justin.”
“Okay.” Justin played with his beer label. He looked like he wanted to say more about Cara, but Everett didn’t want to hear it.
“Valerie dropped off the playlist for the wedding this morning.”
“To Callie?” Everett tried to sound casual.
“Yes to Callie. She is our DJ.”
“So what did you pick for your song?”
“I voted for ‘Honky Tonk Badonkadonk,’ but we went with ‘At Last’ by Etta James.”
“Cool.” But Everett was preoccupied with thoughts of Callie. He realized suddenly that he didn’t have her number or any idea where she lived.
It made seeing her again a little hard to accomplish.
“So what do you have set up for my bachelor party?” Justin asked.
Everett pushed Callie from his mind briefly. He was actually excited for his brother’s bachelor party, mainly because what Justin had asked for was so low key. “I rented Buck’s out for the night and set up a poker tournament with your friends. Shit-ton of beer and poker. Real wild night.”