Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
GRAYSON
T hough it’s quiet, subtle sounds still fill the near-silence. The faint, far-off whistle of a thrush. The muffled splash as an osprey dives into the lake to catch their prey. The occasional croak of a frog from the reeds, their call echoing across the mirrored reflection of the water.
Puffy clouds drift by, the smell of evergreens thick in the air—cedar, pine, and a faint earthy aroma of damp soil and fallen leaves. I inhale deeply, a wave of nostalgia hitting me. Not that I’ve been to this particular lake—of course Owen found us the most remote spot possible—but the last time we went fishing, Dad was here, too.
I glance over at Owen, his pole gripped loosely in his hand, his stare fixed out on the gently rippling water. He’d said as we drove out here this morning that he specifically asked Harper to fit this fishing trip into the schedule for me and him. That he knew this week would be crazy with everyone together and wanted to make sure we had some time for just the two of us.
And yet, in true Owen fashion, we’ve mostly sat in comfortable silence out in his canoe, releasing anything we catch back into the lake.
“You ever take Harper out here?” I ask, breaking the silence.
He half-grunts, half-sighs. “The last time I took her out on the water, she tipped the canoe trying to get away from a spider.”
I hold back my laugh. “To be fair, you and I almost did that one time.”
“When the fish got loose?”
It had been comical how it kept slipping through our fingers as it flopped all over the boat.
“Thought Dad might tip the boat, too, with the way he was laughing at us.”
Owen grins, then sobers. “Wish he could be here.”
“Me, too.”
With Owen, there’s no need to overexplain things. He knows I miss Dad as much as he does.
There’s another beat of silence. “Eli told me he’s planning to ask Kristen to marry him at Christmas.”
Now that’s a piece of gossip I didn’t expect to hear from Owen, of all people. “Why Christmas?” That’s eight months away.
“Kristen said she wanted to date for a year before getting engaged.”
So he’s taking it nearly right to the date. “He’s that sure? They’ve only been dating for four months.”
Owen shrugs. “When you find the woman you want to spend the rest of your life with…”
He trails off, but he doesn’t need to elaborate further. He’s the wrong person to be asking, marrying a woman he met only hours before in Vegas.
And now having an official ceremony over five years later.
“Did you know you wanted to marry Harper right away?”
“Yes,” he says without hesitation. He’s not one to waver from a course of action, though.
“And you think Kristen will say yes to Eli?”
He nods. “They’re a good match. He’s pretty devoted to her. And the kids.”
“He seems like a decent guy.” I’d thought that about him when I met him last Christmas. “Why’d he tell you he’s going to propose?”
“I think he was sort of asking for my blessing. The way you would to a girl’s father. That’s what made me think of it when you mentioned Dad.”
He should have asked me , is my first thought. I’m her older brother. Owen’s the younger one. But I wasn’t here to ask. He’d only met me one time, and briefly at that. Of course he’d talk to Owen instead.
“Funny that you’re the last of us to get married when you’re the oldest,” Owen comments in an offhand way.
“I’m not getting married,” I say, and it comes out flatter than I expected. Almost like I’m… disappointed.
I’m not, though. Like I told Abby, I’m not worrying about anything like marriage or kids until the right woman comes along.
An image pops into my head of pulling up into Abby’s driveway after a long day at work, her waiting in the doorway with a little towheaded girl in her arms, both of them happy to see me.
Whoa… What the fuck?
“Yeah, I know,” Owen says, oblivious to my concerning vision. “The last to be single, I meant. Just weird since you’re the one who dates and Kristen and I don’t.”
“Kristen was married before,” I say petulantly, not sure why I’m arguing.
He makes a noise of derision. “It was pretty obvious they were only together because of the twins.”
Was it? I thought she’d loved James. But, yet again, I was barely around to know the difference. “I didn’t know that.”
“James wasn’t good for her. Not the way Eli is.”
Of course observant Owen would pick up on that. He’s always the quietest one in the room, but ever watchful, noticing things others aren’t even aware they’re revealing.
Has he noticed what’s happened between me and Abby?
“I guess I haven’t been as lucky as the two of you,” I reply, shying away from that thought.
“I assumed it was out of spite because of Mom.”
A chuckle escapes me. “That, too.”
The comfortable silence returns and after another hour with no bites, we call it quits for the day. After loading up the canoe on Owen’s truck, we head back to town, the windows down, breeze blowing through our hair.
I look out at the trees on the edge of the highway, the low, mossy ground cover clinging to the forest floor, the soft green tones contrasting with patches of ferns unfurling their fronds. Wildflowers bloom in between the greenery, splashes of whites and purples against the darker trees. It’s spring in Oregon, an annual rebirth of the forest. A new beginning.
This trip almost feels like a new beginning for me, too. Or maybe a turning point. Unexpected, but in a good way.
“Do you ever think about moving back here?”
I turn to Owen, his question seeming out of the blue. “What?”
“You’ve seemed different this week. Like you’re finally enjoying yourself here.”
Observant Owen strikes again.
“Just because I’m having a good time doesn’t mean…” I swallow hard, the words stuck for some reason. “That I’d move back here.”
“I know,” he says easily. “I only wondered if you ever thought about it.”
Before this week, no. And now… No, of course not. That’s crazy to even think about.
“No,” I tell him. “I haven’t.”
“What about Abby?”
I go still. “What about her?”
He takes his eyes off the road for a moment to look over at me, giving me an unimpressed eye roll. “Come off it. I’ve seen how you’ve been looking at her the past couple of days. When you think no one’s watching.”
My hands clench. How have I been looking at her? “We’re putting on an act for Mom.”
He makes a quiet scoff of disbelief. “Okay.”
He seems content to leave it at that, but I’m not. “You don’t think I’m that good of an actor?”
“No.”
I should take offense to that, but I don’t. Not when he’s right. “What makes you so sure?”
He mulls my question for a moment, then says, “Your car was at Abby’s yesterday when Harper and I dropped off the favors. And when she answered the door, she was all disheveled, her shirt buttons done up wrong. Then said she was busy and couldn’t talk. Meanwhile, you were nowhere to be found.”
Shit. He pieced that all together? “You’re a regular Nancy Drew,” I mutter.
He grins. “I prefer Hardy Boys.”
I lean my elbow against the open window, chewing on my thumb. Why is he even noticing Abby so much when he’s marrying her friend?
“This thing with Abby doesn’t change anything,” I say. “It’s casual. And it only started yesterday.”
“Okay.”
There’s silence for the next few minutes, but it’s not comfortable anymore. Not for me. I’m stewing, obsessing over his not-quite accusation.
“Do you think it was wrong of me to start something up with her?” I finally ask, looking out the window. I don’t want to see his judgment.
“No.” His response is quick, and the uneasiness building in my stomach dissipates at once. I didn’t realize Owen’s approval meant that much to me. “But I’d be careful it means the same to her as it does to you.”
“It does.” She’d assured me yesterday she was fine with this arrangement. That she didn’t expect anything after Sunday. “Does Harper know? Or Kristen?” That’d be the last thing I need.
“Not that I know of.”
“Are you and Harper one of those couples that shares everything?”
His lips twist wryly. “I’ll keep your secret.”
“Bros before—”
“Don’t finish that,” he warns.
I grin, settling back into my seat for the rest of the ride.