Page 54 of Chasing Sunsets

I blow out a breath. “I don’t know. Keep seeing her. See where it goes.”

Parker snorts. “You know where it goes,” he says as he shakes the box in his hand, labeledAudrey’s Books.

Yeah, I do.

I shake my head. “She’s the one who said she wanted to just be friends, and there’s a bit of an age difference. She’s only twenty-two. She may not be ready for that. Hell, I don’t know that I’m ready for that.”

Lennon scoffs. “You’re only thirty.”

“A thirty-year-old who acts like a twenty-year-old,” Parker adds.

“Yeah, that’s not quite a decade. Wade’s, like, three decades older than his wife. You can just get Botox like him,” Sebastian says.

Wade cuts his eyes to him. “Sixteen, jackass. And I don’t get Botox.”

“Sixteen decades? Damn,” Sebastian cries.

“Years. Eden is sixteen years younger,” Wade bites out.

“See, eight years is nothing,” Sebastian says, then turns back to Wade. “Seriously, what moisturizer do you use?”

Wade rolls his eyes before stomping out the door.

“Ah, come back. I’m sorry,” Sebastian calls after him before turning to me. “Tabby might have said she only wanted to be friends, and that might have been true at the time, but trust me, that’s changed. Women don’t sleep with their friends—they’re not like guys. Talk to her.”

I know he’s right. Something’s shifted between us.

I’ve spent my whole life keeping things casual. Never getting too close. Never letting anyone in too deep. But with Tabby? That ship has already sailed. I’m in so deep that I’m willing to spend every night folded like a fucking taco shell just so I can wake up with her.

And for the first time, I’m not looking for an exit.

“Now that we’ve talked about our feelings, can we discuss this?” Lennon asks, picking up the girlie lamp. “How the hell did Audrey fit all this shit in that tiny apartment?”

Parker lets out a breath. “Fuck if I know.”

“At least my closing date has been scheduled, so you’ll have my room and an extra closet in a few weeks,” I say.

“Which means we have to do this shit again,” Lennon mumbles.

“All I have is the bed, nightstands, and dresser, plus a handful of clothes. It’ll take two boxes and one trip to move my stuff,” I say. “In fact, I may let you guys keep the furniture and just have a new set delivered. We’re getting too old for this crap.”

Sebastian cuts his eyes to Parker. “I knew it was his old ass. He’s just blaming it on the camper.”

Parker glances at me. “His old ass had better at least take the mattress with him, or I’m dragging it out to the beach and having a bonfire,” he says, faking a full-body shiver.

We all burst into laughter. I grab us each a beer, and Parker orders a pizza before we have to pile back into our trucks for round two.

And I take three ibuprofen.

’Cause my old-ass back hurts like a motherfucker.

Tabby

Anson talked me into coming to his house this evening. He said he was exhausted after spending the morning and afternoon helping the guys move Audrey’s things in, but I suspect it has more to do with him not wanting to risk another sleepover at my place. I felt bad when I woke to find him twisted like a pretzel.

The funny thing is, Indigo had no problem sleeping in the RV. I try to recall the few months we shared the tiny bed, and my mind can’t even conjure the image. Like it’s blocked out that time in my life.

I don’t hate Indy. I hate that he left the way he did, but I can’t regret the time we had. If we’d never met, I’d never have gathered the courage to walk away from my life in Boston. I’d have never found the perfect little Shasta. And I would never have found Sandcastle Cove.

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