Scratch that. I really don’t want to be here. Maybe I can just fake a headache and head home. Yeah, that sounds legit, especially since I’ll be changing jobs soon and—
“Don’t even think about it.”
Aaaand, I’m busted by Laney. I blow out a long breath, eyes meeting hers. “I’m sorry. It’s just … I know I’m not the best company right now.”
“Too bad. I’ve missed seeing you and your I’m avoiding everyone ass. But now you’re here. You’re not leaving yet.”
Well. Not only am I antisocial these days but I’m also a super sucky friend. Brilliant. Just brilliant.
In my defense, the two of us are sitting out on Laney and Zach’s deck out back and she’s talking about Hendy, Foster’s friend who was killed. I hadn’t met him but Laney has been entertaining me with stories, reminiscing about him.
Her lips twist in a sad smile. “The guys are having a celebration of life kind of thing for Hendy. Just hanging out and talking about him, sharing memories.” Her voice fades toward the end, her eyes misty.
Speaking softly, she looks off toward the ocean. “The first time I met him, I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard before in my life.
“Hendy would always look after me when he’d come to visit; he and Foster and I would go out to the bars.” Laney fiddles with her wine glass, eyes downcast, one corner of her mouth tipped up. “Intimidating anyone he deemed not good enough for me.”
“Which was—let me guess—everyone?”
“You guessed it.”
“I don’t know him—I only know of him—but he sounds like a pretty amazing guy.” I’m not sure what makes me offer this, but I feel compelled for some reason. “His … death has definitely impacted Foster.”
“Hendy’s always been like a brother to me and Foster. I know he’s taking it hard.”
We fall silent, lost in our own thoughts.
The blinking light on my cell phone sitting on top of my purse beside me, indicating that I received a text message, draws me from my own thoughts. Reaching for it, I swipe the screen and see a few text messages from Foster.
8:58 PM: Have I told you yet today that you’re absolutely gorgeous?
9:15 PM: Have I told you yet today how much I miss you?
9:26 PM: Have I told you yet today how much I love the way you feel in my arms?
9:47 PM: Have I told you yet today I really
I frown, thinking something likely happened, and he didn’t get to finish that text. When I scroll to the next one, it makes sense.
10:00 PM: He’s getting pretty lit, and we’re all feeling raw over Hendy. I’m taking his phone away from him for now. Mac
10:45 PM: Have I told you yet today how much I miss you?
“My brother?” My head jerks up to find Laney watching me.
“Yes.” My eyes return to the screen, my heart aching as I reread his words. Pushing to my feet, I shove my phone into my purse. “I’m sorry, but I really have to go.”
I don’t miss her concerned look as we say our goodbyes. But as I walk down the steps of the house to my car, I’m torn. Because as much as I love these messages from Foster, a part of me hates them, too. Because he’s refusing to let me move on.
But I have no choice, because the man who doesn’t want to be my future has to be left in the past.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Foster
I’m fucked. Currently, in more ways than one. My heart feels like it’s breaking into a million pieces. I’ve had far too much to drink—as have the others—and the raw ache won’t go away.
“I recall the time Hendy came out of his room in our apartment the morning after we’d gone out after getting back from another long deployment. He sat down across from me at the kitchen table where I was eating breakfast, looking exhausted as hell. Just when I was about to mention it, his bedroom door opened and out came three chicks. Three.”
Miller’s telling a story about Hendy’s womanizing. “Each of them sauntered over to him and said stuff like, ‘Baby, you want us to cook you some breakfast? Or give you a massage after you worked so hard last night?’”
He lets out a short laugh at the memory. “Next thing I know, the three of them whipped up this massive feast of pancakes, eggs, toast, sausage—you name it. Most delicious thing I’d eaten in God knows how long.”
We all chuckle, knowing Hendy always had a way with the ladies. He was the smoothest of smooth talkers.
And now he was gone.
Looking down at my beer—who knows how many I’ve had at this point trying to numb the pain—I quietly voice my admission. “I still don’t want to believe it’s true. Can’t believe it’s true.”
My comment is only greeted with silence, and I know it’s because they feel the same. Doc, who has been nursing the same beer since we got here, finally speaks.
“Hey, Fos.” I lift my head to look at him through eyes that are bleary not only from the alcohol but from the tears I’m doing my damndest to hold back. “You get the feeling Hendy’s not really gone?”
“Wait just a fucking min—” Miller protests.