Page 56 of Slow Kind of Love

Chapter Twenty

There was a certain predictability to the changing of seasons in Crystal Lake. The winters were tough with a lot of lake-effect snow and storms that rolled across the state coming in from Canada or pressure systems moving up from Texas. There were major snowstorms now and again, and everyone seemed to have a story or two about that “damn blizzard of ’77” or whichever big one figured in their lives.

But after a winter, be it arctic cold or one that was milder, the inevitable spring thaw brought with it longer days and more sunlight. The ice melted; the snow disappeared from lawns and fields and the edges of the lake. The things that were dormant or scarce came back in abundance. From rabbits and squirrels and robins in the trees, to the greening grass and wildflowers that grew on the banks of the lake.

It rained for a day or two at a time, maybe even a week, spring showers and all that, but then the clouds parted and the sun came out bringing warmth and growth. Even now, boats were being readied for the coming season, and summer cottages were getting a good cleaning. And there was no joy that could make you feel more alive than breathing in all that fresh spring air while gazing out at a fast-awakening lake.

At least for most folks.

Link Major wasn’t among them.

He stood on his back deck and looked across the lake, wincing at the brightness of the sun on its surface, and slowly drank a cup of day-old coffee. It tasted like shit, but it was all he had, and there wasn’t one teabag to be found. The cupboards were pretty much bare, and the fridge was in a similar state because food was the last thing on his mind.

Hell, he was only drinking coffee because he’d finished off the last of his scotch and there wasn’t a lick of booze left in his place. He’d been drunk for days now. Maybe weeks.

Pepper grunted and nudged his leg.

“I suppose you want food,” Link said, running a hand over the beard he’d acquired since he decided to spend his days nursing a bottle of scotch and not much else.

He dumped the remains of his mug over the side of the deck and headed back into the house. Pepper waited patiently while he filled her food dish, and he was rooting around in the fridge, hoping to find an egg or a chunk of cheese or something for his belly, when the doorbell rang.

It was a loud, shrill sound in the quiet of his home, but he ignored it and grabbed the pickle jar, scooping out two of them while the doorbell rang again. And then again. Now pissed at the audacity of someone to ruin his perfectly good hangover, he stalked to the door and yanked it open, a scowl firmly in place as he glared at his cousin Rose.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were still in New York.”

She ignored him and breezed past as if she had every right to. Link slammed the door shut and shook his head.

“Poppy called me two days ago.”

Fuck me, he thought.

“I don’t want to do this,” he said roughly. “I’m fine.”

She had a large brown paper bag, which she set down on the kitchen table. “You don’t smell fine. Go and shower, and then we’ll talk.”

Link would have liked to have told his cousin where to go and what to do when she got there, but he knew it was a lost cause. Rose was just as stubborn as he was. Besides, he did smell bloody ripe.

He took the stairs two at a time, ignoring the bed he hadn’t slept in since Elise had left over a week ago. He jumped in the shower and let the hot spray work its magic, slowly loosening up the knots in his shoulders. He was always on edge as of late, shoulders tight and tense from the anger he couldn’t quite seem to shake.

He stayed in the shower until the water ran cold and didn’t bother to shave. He brushed his teeth, pulled on a T-shirt and jeans, and headed back downstairs, stomach rumbling at the smell of bacon and eggs.

Rose had a plate waiting for him along with a fresh cup of coffee. He’d barely dug in when she stared over her mug and shook her head.

“You look like shite, Link.”

“Yeah?”

“And the Game of Thrones beard thing isn’t a good look for you. Jon Snow can carry it off, but if you’re smart, you’d give it a rethink.”

“Why are you here, Rose.” It wasn’t a question.

“I told you, Poppy called.”

His frown deepened. “She shouldn’t have bothered you.”

Rose’s expression softened. “She’s worried about you. She says you’ve been holed up here for days drinking like a fiend and not talking to anyone.” Her nose scrunched a bit. “She should have warned me about the no-showering thing, but I guess she had other stuff on her mind, like being pregnant.”

Link stared at his plate, trying to let go of the anger inside, but not quite succeeding. “She left, Rose. With no explanation.” He glanced up. “She just left and said we were over.”

---