Page 128 of Reach Around

Shep, from behind a driftwood log, pops up like a demented meerkat. “BOOM!Target neutralized!” Then he sees the carnage. “Oh shit. Literally.”

“You absolute donkey-brained menace!” Boone’s wiping bird crap from his hair, murder in his eyes.

“Hey,” Shep says, holding up both hands like he’s under arrest, “you knew what you were signing up for when I packedtactical flares, my dude.”

“That is NOT a thing!”

“Uh, it isnow.Just go dunk your poopy head in the lake.”

Joely’s practically crying from laughing so hard. I reach out, wrap my arm around her waist to steady her. “Careful. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I already fell for you, remember?”

Damn. She’s fast.

Boone storms toward Shep like a seagull-wrath god, feathers in his hair and unholy fury in his eyes. Shep backpedals fast.

“Virgil!” Shep yells. “Back me up!”

Virgil, standing next to his truck, doesn’t even blink. “You lit unauthorized flares on city property. You’re on your own, Flare Boy.”

Shep whirls toward my brother. “Let’s talk about this. Bros before—”

“You’re dead,” Bennett growls.

I turn to Joely, brushing her hair back from her face as the shouting continues behind us.

“This is insane,” she says, breathless.

“Yeah,” I say. “But it’sourkind of insane.”

“You know what that means, right?” she says.

“That I’ll never have a boring day again?”

“That you’re stuck with me. Bird poop, flares, and all.”

“Good,” I say, pulling her in close again. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Somewhere behind us, Shep yells “I surrender!” as Bennett tackles him into a dune.

Joely doesn’t even flinch.

She just kisses me again.

Yeah. This is exactly where I’m meant to be.

We walk along the water’s edge, hand in hand, barefoot in the sand like it’s a damn rom-com that somehow morphed into real life. The chaos behind us fades into the sounds of waves lapping the shore and Bennett yelling that Shep owes him a new hoodie.

Joely leans into me, her head resting against my shoulder, and my whole body relaxes.

“Still think the flares were a good idea?” she asks.

“No,” I admit. “But I can’t lie. The bird shit was karma in its purest form. Think of the story we’ll get to tell our grandkids.”

She laughs softly, the kind of laugh that warms my chest and makes everything else disappear. “You really did all this?”

“Every piece of it,” I say. “The signs, the calls, the flares—though to be fair, I only asked Shep forsubtle. That was on me.”

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