Page 29 of When We Were Us
Ohhh, sounds romantic! How about ditching and coming to my place for pizza and beer? Hudson is kid-free tonight, and we thought we’d watch a movie later.
Wren
Hmmm…tempting. No older brothers allowed?
Finnley
No! Cross my heart and hope to die!
Oh shit…that was really insensitive! ????
I chuckle to myself and text back that it's fine. We plan for a meeting time of six, and I'm actually looking forward to it.
I still have a few hours before I need to leave to be at Finn’s. So, I throw in a load of laundry and head to the garage to see if I can get lucky and find an extra hinge, or whatever Hank said it was called. I’m hoping it fell off and my granddad stowed it away out here until he could get it repaired.
After a thorough search of every drawer and tin can in the garage, I come up short, but I do manage to find every single screw, washer, rubber gasket, or bread tie ever made. It was one thing to go through the house and declutter, downsize, and donate, but that garage was going to be an entirely different story. There were things out there I didn’t even recognize, let alone know what to do with. Not to mention all the old cans of spray paint, stain, and half-full containers of oil and antifreeze.
I change the light bulbs that are burned out and manage to get the old doorknob off the bathroom door to replace it. However, when I glanced at my watch, I realize I have just enough time to grab a shower and make it to Finn’s by six. Guess the doorknob will have to wait until later.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
wrenley
Finn’s townhouseis across town and within walking distance of Timber’s Treats. It's on the small side, but it's perfect for one person, or even a small family, with two bedrooms and two and a half baths. It looks to have been recently redone. It's elegantly modern with gray laminate flooring, bright white walls, and black accents.
She greets me at the door with a hug. I kick off my shoes in the entryway next to her black Chuck Taylors and what I assume are Hudson’s red and white Brooks running shoes.
I can hear the TV in the next room tuned to what sounds like a soccer match. As soon as we enter from the hallway, I see the top of Hudson’s head from where he’s reclined on the dark gray sectional, his stocking feet kicked up on the coffee table.
“Huddy.” Finn gives the back of his head a light smack on her way into the kitchen. “Wren’s here.”
I smile at the nickname she’s had for him since we were eighteen. When he stands up, setting his beer bottle on the table and coming around the couch to greet me, he looks comfortable here in gray sweats and a white T-shirt.
“Ho-ly shit… Long time no see, Wrenley Hardcastle.” He wraps me in a giant bear hug as he drags out the first word. Then steps back, a playful grin breaking across his face while holding me at arm's length. “Youareall growed up,” he croons in a horrible southern accent.
I pull a face and laugh, giving his shoulder a little shove. I wasn’t sure if it would feel awkward being back in our trio, but I am pleasantly surprised that it feels like old times.
“As you can see, Hudson’s still an idiot,” Finn calls from her place in the kitchen, where she’s throwing together a green salad at her small island.
“Seriously, Wren, it’s good to see you,” he says and motions with his head to follow him into the kitchen. “Come on in, I’ll grab you a beer.”
I set my bag on a barstool. Hudson crosses to the fridge, pulls out three bottles of beer, and then turns back to the counter. He moves to the drawer at Finn’s hip and finds a bottle opener. Popping the tops off, he hands me one, then slides one across to Finn.
“Need some help?” I cross to the sink and wash my hands.
Finn nods to the fruit bowl on the counter. “Sure,” she says, sliding a clean knife out of the butcher block in front of her and handing it to me. “You can chop up one of those tomatoes.”
Hudson reaches across and picks a slice of cucumber out of the bowl in front of Finn. She doesn’t break stride slicing the onion on the cutting board, despite smacking his hand away.
“Get out! Go watch your game, man!”
He laughs, pops the cucumber in his mouth, and rounds the counter, reaching for another one.
“Huddy! I will stab you with this knife if you don’t stop stealing my veggies.” She raises exasperated eyes to him and throws her long, dark hair over her shoulder, pointing the knife in his direction. “Go!”
He grabs his beer and heads back into the living room. “You’re so violent, Jameson.”
Hudson retreats to the living room and Finn and I put the finishing touches on the salad. She puts it into the fridge to keep it cold while we wait for the pizza to arrive, and we take our beers into the living room. I’m just settling into the far corner of the couch when Hudson leans forward with an intent look on his face as he watches the game unfold.
