Page 97 of Gorgeous

A few minutes later, the same girl at the counter brings our food out with a bounce in her step. “Here you are, gentlemen,” she says.

Theo quirks his lips and actually thanks her. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

I chuckle. This motherfucker. “Sweetheart?” I ask him in disbelief after she leaves. “You never say sweetheart.”

“Well, one of us has to be the gentleman, Jameson, and you’re too busy being the whiny bitch today so I took one for the team.”

He took one for the team. The simple statement hits me straight in the soul.

My team.

Not the one that died, but the one in front of me.

The one in Madison, Georgia.

My family.

Breck.

“Do you believe her?” I ask him after a minute, my tone solemn.

Mid-bite, Theo looks up from his burger and fries, swallowing down a massive amount of food. “Who? B?”

I give him a terse chin jerk. “Yeah, B. Do you believe she came here to help me?”

Theo takes a second, chewing his food carefully after taking another huge bite. “It doesn’t matter what I believe, Jameson. It matters what you believe. But for the record, I don’t think she came here seeking revenge.”

I pick up my burger after that, both of us eating dinner in silence until his phone rings, vibrating the table. He looks at it and then looks at me.

“Ans?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “B.” My gut churns as we watch his phone vibrate on the table, going unanswered. When it finally stops, he sighs. “You should call her.”

“She deserves better,” is all I can manage to say.

My parents’ house sits in a quiet neighborhood surrounded by large oaks and Spanish moss along the Georgia coast. Jekyll Island, known for its peaceful atmosphere, was known as Satan’s time-out corner to Drew and I. In other words, it was boring as fuck.

But it was home.

The sulfuric smell pulls me right back to the most epic years of my childhood.

Bike rides to Driftwood beach, pretending we were Navy Seals rescuing some hot chick who had been captured by evil villains, walkie talkies and camp-outs underneath the canopy of stars. The break of the waves against the retaining wall lulling us to sleep was better than any lullaby Anne had ever sang to us. We were boys pretending to be men. Rebels in a quiet neighborhood made up of mostly retirees. Friends turned brothers over the course of the summer.

The American flag waves at me from their front yard. It still stands, never falling, never surrendering. The light underneath shines bright as a lighthouse, like a beacon calling us home.

“She still has it flying,” I murmur under my breath to Theo, who over the course of thirty minutes has become increasingly antsy.

“Hmm …” is all he says, texting something on his phone.

I feel my lips pull into a half frown. “What’s your deal? You’ve been acting weird since we got back on the road.” His gaze is slow to meet mine when I put the truck in park, right behind a sedan in my parents’ driveway.

“I don’t know, Jameson, you tell me. You upset the girls. Took off without a word to anyone, and now we’re hours away from home at your parents’ house who you didn’t call to tell you were coming and who you haven’t spoken to in five years.” He gives me a flat look. “Oh no, I’m fine. Everything is fucking peachy.”

If I were to shove him, I think I could do it without breaking my truck window. “You didn’t have to—”

The front door opens and the woman who accepted me into her home with no hesitation appears at the door with a confused expression on her face. The sun sets behind her, making her look like an angel.

Theo sighs before stepping out of the truck and mumbling, “Just know this was all Anniston’s idea. They just happened to like me.”

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