Page 6 of Wrecked
I lifted my shoulder in a shrug, "Guess we're making her car priority, so she can get out of our town."
Logan let out a hum of approval, and we turned our attention to Dozer and Flynn playing tug-of-war with the dog's new toy. The silence that filled the air around us was as comfortable as it was familiar. I didn't have a brother, in fact, I didn't have any family left—not blood related, anyway. My best friend was as close to a brother as I was gonna get and in moments like these, I felt like I belonged somewhere.
I heard their home phone ring, and a few minutes later Harper appeared on the deck, holding a beer and water. "You're driving." She handed me the bottled water before slipping onto Logan's lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. "Have you asked him?"
Asked me what?
He chuckled and pulled her even closer to him, "I'm getting to it, Sugar." Then he turned his attention to me, "We were hoping you'd use your glass blowing skills for our wedding."
I'd happened upon the art at a festival I'd attended with my old college girlfriend. We'd spent hours watching the man manipulate the molten glass and creating the most beautiful things. In an instant, I'd known what I wanted to do with my life. I was well on my way to realizing that dream when the ground got ripped from beneath me.
Swallowing the bile that rose in my throat, I mustered a half-smile, "Whatever you need."
Harper's smile went all the way up to her green eyes, "Thank you! So, are we seeing you at the ranch tomorrow?"
I shook my head while I toyed with the bottle in my hands. "I'm having lunch at the guesthouse."
"Interesting." My friend remarked tentatively.
I glared at Logan, "What's sointerestingabout that exactly?"
Harper poked Logan in the chest and shook her head. To me, she said, "We'll miss you, but we'll stop by tomorrow night with dessert." I didn't even know when it had happened, but somewhere during the past year we'd started getting together on Sunday and Monday nights.
Sunday nights were what you'd call family night, or as I liked to call it, dessert Sunday. All of us—Logan and his brothers along with Harper and Lizzy and the kids — got together at someone's place and stuffed our faces with pie while our competitive sides came out during board games.
Monday nights were for the adults. The kids would have a sleepover at Logan's parents while the grownups enjoyed a night out at Joe's, our local haunt.
"I'm going to go see what those two are up to," Harper announced. She laughed as she slipped off her man's lap. "There is nothing more sinister than a quiet kid and an equally quiet dog." Shaking her head, she walked toward Flynn and Dozer.
"You've been spending a lot of time with Lola lately," Logan remarked while his gaze remained on Harper.
"Mrs. Davis invited me over, not Lola." My comeback was weak, and I knew it. In my defense though, when a sweet old lady offered you a home cooked meal, you didn't decline. The fact that her granddaughter and I took the odd tumble between the sheets had nothing to do with me accepting her invitation.
"Look, man," the seriousness in my friend's voice gave me an uneasy feeling. "I know this thing with her is casual foryou, but doesshesee it that way?"
My jaw clenched in irritation, but to be fair, my pissy mood had nothing to do with Logan baiting me over Lola. The way he never gave up on Harper—no matter how much shit we gave him—had my mind running to the only woman I ever loved.
As much as I wanted to believe that love conquered all, I was proof that it also destroyed everything.
"Lola knows what we are and she's good with that," I pushed to my feet. "We grilling some steaks or what?" It looked like my friend had more to say, but he had the good sense not to voice any of it.
By the time I drove home, I was craving the solitude of my cabin. The deeper I traveled into the woods, the calmer my soul felt. I'd tried living in town for a while, but after spending four years of my life in prison, I needed a place where no fence was necessary.
It took some decent negotiating, but I'd managed to buy a piece of land a few miles outside of town. Nothing could ever compare to having the woodland for a backyard.
I rolled to a stop in my usual parking space and headed inside my spacious log cabin. With a long sigh, I shrugged out of my jacket and toed off my boots. I pulled my tee over my head and caught sight of the tiny butterflies. From their spot on my bookcase, they mocked me.
Heavy feet carried me across the room, the hole in my chest grew with every step. Glass butterflies took up almost a third of the space on my wall-to-wall case. Different colors, different sizes scattered about. I ran a finger over the wings of the blue one closest to me.
One of these days I would be able to look at them without the sting of betrayal or misery flooding my heart.
Today was not that day.
Chapter 3
Twenty-seven.
The number of blocks that were on the ceiling. There were also tiny cracks in the two middle blocks and in the one right above my head.
