Beautifully Hurt (Beautifully Broken)

“It’s a date,” she grins at me. “And maybe I’ll get lucky and catch Jason’s eye.”

“Yeah, one of us needs to land the man of her dreams,” I say, and then my phone beeps, drawing my attention. Picking up the device from where I left it on the counter, I open a message from my cousin.

Finlay: I’m bored.

I let out a chuckle, then call out to Katie, “Finlay texted me. She’d bored.”

“Tell her to move to Southport already,” Katie replies.

Quinn: Katie says you should just move here.

Finlay: I’m definitely thinking about it. With Dad in Saudi Arabia, the house is quiet.

Quinn: Do it. You can move in with me.

Finlay: I’ll talk to Dad about selling the house.

Quinn: Let me know how it goes.

Finlay: Hugs.

“She’s going to talk to Uncle David about selling the house,” I tell Katie.

She comes to sit next to me behind the counter. “I think that’s a great idea. It’s stupid that you’re both living alone. Finlay can move in with you.”

“That’s what I told her.”

Our fathers are brothers, and Finlay’s only two years younger than me. It would be great to have her here with me.

ELI

Checking the plywood we just received, a smile tugs at the corner of my mouth from how happy Mom was when she saw the flowers.

It was a spur-of-the-moment decision to get her flowers, and seeing how much she appreciated them made me wish I’d done it more often.

Happy with the delivery, I sign for it then watch as the driver leaves. I pull the shutter doors closed before walking to the front of the store.

Mom started working for Joshua, the previous owner, before I was born. When he retired, Dad bought the place, and after I returned from my military service, I took over. I served two years because Dad said it helped build character, and he was right. I feel like I left a boy and came back a man.

The store keeps me busy, but I spend all my free time building my own place. The piece of land I got is walking distance from my parents' house.

Stopping at the store’s entrance, I lean my shoulder against the doorjamb and cross my arms over my chest. My eyes find their way to The Green Leaf across the road, and I let out a soft chuckle.

Quinn Drake. The shy girl with a smile that stole the sun right from the sky.

Quinn’s pretty with warm, brown hair and eyes, and it’s only a matter of time before one of the guys in town sweeps her up. Her best friend, Katie, is pretty too. I know Jason, a friend from school, has his eye on her.

Like everything else in this town, relationships happen at a snail's pace, and it’s always everyone’s business. There’s no such thing as privacy in Southport.

Glancing over my shoulder, I check the time on the clock above the counter. Another twenty minutes before I’ll close up shop and head over to the bar to have a drink with Jason.

Turning my gaze back to the road, it’s in time to see Katie and Quinn lock the door to The Green Leaf. Katie spots me and waves, and then she slaps Quinn on her arm, saying something to her. Quinn’s head whips my way, and after giving me a quick wave, she darts down the road before I even have a chance to return the greeting.

If I weren’t so busy building my house, I’d think about asking Quinn out on a date. But she’s the kind of girl you wine and dine. You don’t just fuck her and walk away.

No, not Quinn Drake. She’s the girl you take home to your parents.

Checking the time again, I push away from the doorjamb and walk to the counter.

Just then, Steward rushes into the store. “Caught you just in time,” he chuckles, sounding relieved. “My drill bit the dust halfway through putting up those shelves Jill’s been nagging me for.”

I gesture to the aisle where I keep the power tools. “The Craftsman’s seventy-nine, ninety-nine. It will get the job done.”

“Cordless, right?” Steward asks.

I nod.

He inspects the other drills, then smiles. “I’ll take one.”

I help him with the purchase and hand him the box. “Thanks for the support and good luck with the shelves.”

“Thanks.”

As soon as Steward leaves, I close up. I head to my truck, and sliding behind the steering wheel, I drive to The Port, our local bar, where Jason’s the bartender.

I park out front, and when I step inside, I greet neighbors and acquaintances as I walk to the bar.

As I take a seat on a stool, Jason grins at me, then he tilts his head toward the pool tables. “Look who’s here.”

I glance to the back of the bar and see Quinn and Katie playing pool.

“Are you going to pluck up the courage and ask Katie on a date?” I ask as I turn my attention back to my friend.