“Really good. You know how Darnell does. Always with extra of all the good stuff for us.”
“I do.”
“I miss working with you,” I said. “It always made going home with a sandwich seem like the cap of a good day rather than the good thing that happened during the day.”
“Aww, I miss seeing you every day. What’s going on? Did Ashton come by?”
“Is it that obvious?” I asked.
“You’ve already drank an entire glass of wine on our thirty seconds of a call, so yes,” Harleigh said.
“Got me there,” I said, pulling the bottle off the coffee table and refilling my glass. “Yeah, he came in again.”
“What’s his deal?” Harleigh asked. “It seems like it’s becoming much more frequent. Are you worried at all?”
“I know. I’m not worried, though. He’s harmless. It’s sad mostly. He’s like a hurt puppy.”
“A hurt puppy that was extremely manipulative, remember that,” Harleigh said.
“I know, I know.”
“You said that before, and then you went out with him again after I quit.”
“For one date,” I said. “And it didn’t even last the whole date. I got up and walked out halfway through. I won’t make that mistake ever again.”
“I know, I just feel the need to remind you any time it seems like you are having empathy toward him again. He doesn’t deserve it.”
“I know. He’s just becoming a nuisance, is all. It’s nothing like Grant.”
“God, I hope not,” Harleigh said. “Also, I thought we agreed never to say his name again.”
“Sorry,” I said, laughing. “The ex-who-now-lives-in-prison.”
“There we go.” She laughed again. It never ceased to amaze me how she recovered from such a traumatic event. I wish I had half that strength.
“But yeah, nothing like him.”
“Good,” Harleigh said, “because I would never want something like that for you.”
“Neither would I,” I said, thinking back on the way his eyes cut at me when he realized I wasn’t going to wait on him. “Neither would I.”
3
CARTER
The next morning, I was expecting a call early, so I got up and did the morning chores just as the sun rose.
The dogs wanted nothing to do with being up that early, and I had to ply them with the promise of treats to get them out of their beds and into leashes for a morning walk. Once I got the blood flowing, I started feeling more alert. And after bringing the dogs back home, I did a slightly scaled-down version of my daily workout routine before breakfast.
Once I had food in my stomach and showered, I went about the tasks I tended to do during the afternoon, looking to get them done before I got the call. Honestly, I had expected the guys to call already. Deacon was a bit sluggish sometimes in the morning, but Everett was always up while it was still dark.
Deacon was the one who bought the cabin outright that they were moving to. His grandparents had been well-off and left him a bunch of money, which he ended up using to front the start-up costs of the business and buy a decent-sized place for himself and for Everett to share with him while we got the business going.
Neither one of them dealt with being alone terribly well. Especially not since the desert. I understood that—it was a common theme among brothers who came back. We didn’t always adjust to life in civvies, especially left to our own devices. Oftentimes, when you were alone in the dark, the things you had compartmentalized would come back. The things you desperately ignored. Horrors you had seen. Atrocities that were committed, both casually and mercilessly. They would flash into your mind and remind you of how awful life could be.
It was better to have someone. Especially someone who understood.
Deacon and Everett had each other. And they both had me. We were bonded in a way only people like us could understand, and I was thankful that none of us had gone down a bad path in order to cope with our histories. We wouldn’t let each other.
When the call finally came, I was outside, chopping wood. I grabbed the phone and swiped it open, not bothering to see who it was. Very few people even had my cell number.
“So,” Everett said by way of greeting, “you know how we said we wouldn’t need you to meet us and lead us to the cabin?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“That was a miscalculation.” He always worded things like that. Miscalculation, incorrect assumption, etc. Never just “I was wrong.” It wasn’t an ego thing. He was just funny about it.
“Where are you guys?” I asked.
“At the base of the mountain heading back east. Just off Main,” he said.
“Alright, have you passed Dina’s diner?”
“Yeah, just a minute or two ago,” Everett said. “Should we double back?”
“Yes, head there and we can all get lunch. Then you can follow me.”