“What about her?”
“You know what. She’s trouble with a capital T.”
Yeah, Jack was right. Ben already knew.
“Tell me you got that,” Jack said.
“I got that.”
There was a full minute of silence between them as they continued to walk toward the Love Shack. But then Jack, who’d never been real good at leaving anything alone, said, “There was something in the air between you two.”
“Animosity?” Ben asked.
Jack laughed. “Not exactly.”
“What, then?”
Jack shrugged, but Ben knew this wasn’t necessarily an I-don’t-know shrug. Because Jack knew.
Ben knew, too. But he held his tongue. It was natural for him to do so, and plus, as an added bonus, it drove Jack wild. Jack couldn’t handle silences any more than he could handle leaving things alone.
And sure enough, after another minute, Jack started whistling. He couldn’t whistle worth shit, and he was completely tone-deaf—which meant that hearing him whistle was far better than hearing him sing. But still, Ben wasn’t in the mood for either. Especially since Jack only sang when he was being obnoxious. It was his own special brand of torture.
“Spit it out,” Ben said.
Jack shook his head. “Nothing to spit out.”
Ben looked at him, but Jack went silent. It was a first.
“I’m just working on the bookstore,” Ben finally said.
Jack blew on his hands and shoved them into his front pockets as they continued to walk.
“You know damn well her uncle hired me,” Ben said.
Jack nodded and squared his shoulders against the evening’s wind.
“And we’re not even going to be in the shop at the same time,” Ben said.
Jack snorted.
“Damn it.” Impressed that his own techniques had been used against him—and that it’d worked—Ben caved like a cheap suitcase. “Okay, so there was a weird vibe between us. But it’s nothing.”
“It was way more than nothing,” Jack said. “The two of you practically melted the place down.” He paused. “Do I need to give you the birds-and-the-bees talk?”
At that, Ben had to laugh. “Shut up. I lost my cherry two years before you did.”
“Yeah, well, you were a real ho back then.”
This was true. Ben had discovered women early. And then in high school, he’d tangled with the pretty, smart, and funny Hannah, and he’d fallen hard. He’d drawn her over to the dark side, and she’d loved it. Right up until she’d dumped him just before college.
Two years later, they’d run into each other at a party. She’d grown up a lot, and so had he. They’d gotten back together, and he’d put a ring on her finger so as not to lose her again. Then he’d lost her anyway when a drunk driver had crossed the center line and hit her car head-on.
He’d not gone back to his bad boy ways. Instead, he’d quit his nine-to-five engineering desk job and gone off the grid with the Army Corps and then the DOD.
As if reading his mind, Jack’s smile faded. “It’s been a while for you. With a woman.”
Yeah, it’d been a while. But not as long as Jack thought. “I’ve been with women since Hannah.”
If this was news to Jack, he didn’t show it. “Just hookups.”
“Yeah,” Ben said. “So?”
“So what I saw back there in the bookstore didn’t feel like it’d be a quick hookup.”
“You’re wrong,” Ben said.
Jack was quiet a moment. “No one would blame you if you went for it again. For love. No one. It’s just…Aubrey Wellington?”
The doubt in his voice pissed Ben off. Which was asinine. No one knew Ben better than Jack—no one alive, anyway. He knew what Ben had gone through after Hannah’s death.
He knew Ben had loved her. The real kind of love. The once-in-a-lifetime, forever kind. For a guy who’d been pretty much dumped by his own parents and dropped at his aunt Dee’s house at the age of twelve, it shouldn’t have been possible for him to feel it at all. But his aunt Dee had mothered him relentlessly. And Jack’s father—before his untimely, heroic death fighting a fire—had been a real dad to Ben. Jack had been a brother. Between the three of them, they’d taught Ben love.
And he’d had it with Hannah—a solid, soul-deep, comfortable love.
But it was long gone now, and while he missed it, he didn’t want to risk it again.
Jack was looking at him, waiting for a response or reaction, and Ben shook his head. “You’re reading too much into things,” he said. “I’m just working at her bookstore.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.” And he one hundred percent meant it.
Okay, maybe ninety percent…
Chapter 5
A few days later, Ben got up early and went for a hard run. He was met at the halfway point—the pier—by Sam Brody. Sam was an old high school buddy. The two of them had landed here in Lucky Harbor under shitty circumstances—Ben because his mom had dumped him and Sam because he’d been sent to yet another foster home.
And though Ben’d had Jack and Dee and a whole bunch of people who cared, none of them had ever quite understood where he’d come from.
Sam had understood.
Sam had come from worse.
They nodded at each other and fell into step, a hard, fast pace that suited the both of them. They didn’t talk. They often never said a word while running. Ben wasn’t a big talker anyway, although next to Sam he looked like Chatty Cathy.
Still, the silence was always comfortable, like an old shoe. Three miles later, on the outskirts of the county, they finally slowed to their usual cool-down pace and headed back.
“How’s it going with the latest boat?” Ben asked. Sam built boats by hand, and his workmanship was amazing.
“It’s going,” Sam said simply. “How’s it going at the bookstore?”
“Just making shelves.”
Sam snorted, the sound managing to convey a sarcastic “Yeah, right” and “Good luck with Aubrey, buddy” all in one.
At the pier, they separated with a fist bump, each to go on with his own day.
After a shower, Ben headed out. He and Jack shared a downtown duplex. Jack was out front walking his 150-pound black and white Great Dane, Kevin. Kevin didn’t like to exert a lot of energy, so they never walked far. And mostly, his favorite walk was to his food bowl and back. But sometimes in the mornings, Kevin liked to check things out—like which dogs had peed near his territory. Kevin did his business, and then he and Jack headed off to the fire station for work.
Ben drove to his aunt Dee’s house. She was working hard at recovering from breast cancer. And though it had kicked her ass, she was now kicking the cancer’s ass. But sometimes she was too tired to take care of herself, and on those days, Ben and Jack took turns doing it for her. It was only fair, since she’d taken care of the both of them for the better part of their lives.
As he’d been doing several times a week, Ben let himself into her place and headed straight for the kitchen, where he’d drum up a nice, protein-rich meal.
But in the kitchen doorway, he stopped short in surprise.
Retired fire marshal Ronald McVane stood flipping sausages at the range top where Ben had created some of his best work.
Dee sat at the table, serenely sipping tea.
When Jack’s dad died, a little part of Dee had died with him. Okay, a big part. In the years since, she’d battled depression and anxiety. Not once in all that time had she dated anyone.