Linc studied each fry as he stacked them into a house, apparently deciding the tasteless logs were better for building than eating. Smart kid. “How do you know?”
I racked my brain for snippets of what counselors had said, trying to undo my father’s damage. “Daddy is always in your heart. You can talk to him whenever you want.”
God, I sounded like Mufasa.
“Is that what you do?” He looked skeptical, taking another nip of his burger.
“Yes, baby.”
I talked to Scott all the time, whether I was cursing him for leaving us or crying because I missed my best friend — the one I had before addiction stole him.
Linc’s long lashes hung low as he took a sip of soda, the super sweet drink scrunching his nose. While we’d jumped ahead in time zones, he was exhausted from the long day of traveling. We woke before the sun to start a day of airport hopscotch from San Diego to Chicago and finally, Portland.
“We have to get ready for bed. Grams is picking you up early.”
With the kid-free day, I’d have time to work uninterrupted; plus, I had Liv’s final dress fitting and needed to play the role of maid of honor.
He frowned at his dinner, barely a third of his burger gone. “I miss In-N-Out.”
“I know, baby,” I chuckled, grabbing another disappointing fry. “I do, too. How about we get a lobster roll this weekend?”
His brows snapped together. “A lobster what?”
“Roll,” I repeated. “It’s a sandwich you’ll like. Once you eat one, you’ll forget all about burgers.”
His little brows remained upturned. “I will?”
“Yes.” As much as I hated to lie, sometimes little ones were necessary to get through the day with a skeptical child.
I knew the harm of a real lie, and I’d never inflict it on anyone.
Luke
“Here’s to getting lucky!” Marsh clanked his bottle against mine before throwing back a gulp.
I smiled at my best friend as I took a swig, knowing I didn’t need luck to score. With long hair and tattoos, I was a magnet for girls looking to branch out from the pretty boys who frequented the harbor walk. Ink and grit beat prep any day.
Besides, I already had a taste of Kaylie at lunch, so I wasn’t starving. She’d been flirting up a storm since we arrived, but I wasn’t interested in round two. She was a hot chick, but painfully needy, and was already talking about dating.
Unfortunately, as a new face in Briar, she didn’t know I didn’t date. Not even big-titted chicks that swallowed a sword like nobody’s business.
I cringed at the beer’s bitter metallic bite, a wave of ass coating my mouth. The brewery opening couldn’t come soon enough. The townsfolk deserved something other than horse piss, as Nan had called it. Driving to Portland for a decent drink got old, especially when winter came knocking.
Once I opened up shop, I’d have all the booze I wanted on tap. I’d have a place a hell of a lot more appealing to the eye too, Briar’s long-time watering hole downright disgusting.
Greg’s had long outlived its lifespan, the laminate floors eternally sticky, stealing a shoe if someone dared to don flip-flops. Its wooden stools and benches preyed on the weak, ripping any decent article of clothing and making jeans a must.
Marsh ran a hand through his beard, a puny thing compared to mine with its close trim. “What are you thinking tonight? Redhead? Brunette?”
I shrugged, setting the bottle down, not ready to stomach another sip. “No preference.”
I’d been on a tear with brunettes, but the selection sucked until summer season brought flatlanders looking for a taste of coastal charm and a vacation fling. Ones who wanted to sample some of my New England clam chowder.
“You aren’t yourself, tonight,” he noted, grabbing a handful of bar nuts and skeeving me out. “What’s up, chief?”
As a nurse, he had the immune strength of a Juggernaut, but looking at the bowl of all-you-can-eat bacteria practically gave me E. coli.
“A day of permits and politics.”
If I wasn’t arguing with a code enforcement asshole over one thing, I was fighting with the mayor’s office about another. They wanted to schedule a ribbon-cutting ceremony that I wanted no part of.
Marsh rolled his eyes, grabbing another handful of bacteria-laden bits. “Well, don’t have such a long face. You’re scaring the ladies.”
“I think that thing you call a beard is doing all the work,” I teased.
He grinned, pushing away from the bar, flipping me off as he headed towards the dance floor.
Occupied to its puny capacity, women turned it up to the country bullshit blasting overhead, their denim skirts and chunky heels escaping the 90s.
A group of college girls lingered nearby, and with miniskirts aplenty, they looked good enough to eat, but I didn’t want to go there again. I’d finally gotten the last one I fucked to stop texting.
Marsh had weaseled his way between two blondes line dancing by the time I looked back at the dance floor. He was ridiculously off-beat and out of step, not that either woman seemed to care as they eyed up the wavy-haired man like a new toy. As Briar’s own metrosexual pirate, he rocked buccaneer fashion without the funk, far too pretty to roam the seven seas.
While he attempted to two-step and flirt, I nursed my metallic misery, less than impressed with the options for the night. The worst thing about small-town living was knowing everyone and knowing someone in Briar differed from elsewhere. It wasn’t like you recognized them in passing. You grew up with them, and if they were a jerk as a kid, they were a jerk as an adult, and as Briar would have it, they’d most likely be your jerk of a neighbor till the day you died. Even then, they’d end up in a plot next to you at Briar Memorial, the only cemetery in town.
Any ranting and raving about moving
