Page 58 of Home Coming

“Oh, yeah. Sure. Definitely. It’s fine. Good actually. Really good…”

If she kept lying to Josie, she’d eventually be able to lie to herself.

Friend zone. Maybe that was the song she should write next. She had lots of feelings on the subject.

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

Quinn walked into the local haunt and felt like Scrooge on a ghost-led tour of his past.

He couldn’t count the number of times he’d been inside the Muddy River Inn over his lifetime.

From when he was a child and his parents would bring him and Josie here for hamburgers and french fries as a special birthday dinner treat. To senior year in high school when he wasn’t old enough to drink legally but the older brother of one of the guys on the football team was behind the bar and would sneak them a shot if the owner wasn’t around.

All those memories seemed to belong to a different person. Another lifetime. Yet in spite of that this place was achingly familiar. Comforting.

Even more so when he spotted his school mate Carter behind the bar.

Carter had the unique distinction of having attended two high schools due to his mom moving them across the county line when he was sixteen. He had played football for both Mudville and Sidney, legendary rivals. And damned if Carter didn’t come out of that experience with good buddies in both schools.

Knowing Carter—always with a smile and a joke, not to mention that he also had a regular shift pouring drinks at the Muddy River—Quinn would bet Carter had kept all those friends to this day.

Dark brows rose as his old friend spotted him walking in the door. “Well, well, well. Look what the cat finally dragged in.”

“I was here for the reunion,” Quinn defended, taking a seat on the bar stool.

“For like five minutes,” Carter countered.

Quinn wobbled his head. “It was closer to an hour.”

Carter scowled. “Not long enough to catch up on the last thirteen years of living apart.”

“No. Not enough,” Quinn agreed. “But I’m here now.”

“Shocking, but yes. How long are you in town for?” Carter asked, his hands braced on the bar he’d been wiping down with a rag that looked like it had seen better days.

“That’s up in the air—”

The sound of the door opening had Quinn and Carter both glancing toward the entrance.

“And that’s why I called this guy to come meet me,” Quinn continued as Mark walked through the doorway, followed by another man. “Although I didn’t expect Chris,” he added.

“Small town, man. Word spreads fast,” Carter said.

“Yeah, I’m starting to remember exactly how small and how fast,” Quinn mumbled.

After saying hello to Carter, Mark Peyton and Chris Boffo settled on the bar stools on either side of Quinn.

The SEAL in him didn’t like his back to the door and didn’t like the feeling of being hemmed in by Mark and Chris, even if they had been his closest buddies once upon a time.

“How about we move to a table?” Quinn suggested.

“Oh, no. I want in on whatever this little meet-up is and I need to be behind the bar so you’re staying right here.” Carter slapped one palm on the scarred bar top.

Quinn let out a sigh. “Fine.” He braced himself then turned to Mark. “I called because I might need your help.”

“Might. Thirty-one years old and he still can’t just outright ask for help.” Chris shook his head.

“That’s how he always was,” Carter pointed out.

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