Chapter 2
2
William Andino, A Year and a Half Ago
R aising my fist to the large door, I knock, waiting a few moments before it’s pulled open. The bright, smiling face of my best friend’s wife comes into view as she pulls me in for a hug.
“Will, hi! I’m so glad you were able to make it; it’s been so long since we’ve seen you.”
“Hi, Trish,” I greet as we pull apart and she steps aside, letting me waltz into their beautiful, welcoming home. Notes of cinnamon and nutmeg reach my nostrils, paired with the scent of the turkey surely cooking in the oven. My stomach grumbles, and I inhale a little deeper, loving the warm, comforting smells.
I spot my father sitting on the couch with Max’s parents, and it takes him a moment to notice me, but when he does, he stands and crosses the room, wrapping his arms around me in a strong hug. “Happy you came, son,” he murmurs in my ear as I hug him back.
This is the first Thanksgiving I’ve had in Copper Lake since I moved to Seattle, but it’s also my family’s first Thanksgiving without my mother, and I couldn’t let my dad celebrate by himself, hence why we’re here, at my best friend’s place instead of at his house. I knew my dad needed to be surrounded by people who love him, and who would lift his spirits. Our families have always been intertwined, even when Max and I were kids. I knew this would be a good place for him today because, even if he won’t admit it, I know he’s struggling with missing Mom.
Hell, I think we all are. It’s only been a few months, but it cuts like it was just yesterday.
“Sorry I’m so late,” I say to nobody in particular as my father resumes his spot next to Mr. and Mrs. Bishop. “My flight out of Seattle was delayed, which caused me to miss my connecting flight.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Trish insists. “And you’re not even our most tardy today. Colt’s over at Jessie’s family’s house, but should be here soon.” Ringing her hands on the apron wrapped around her middle, Trish smiles before turning and strolling back into the kitchen, not even realizing what type of panic she set off inside my mind with that one statement.
A little over six months…that’s how long it’s been since I woke up alone in an apartment above my buddy’s bar with the scent of my best friend’s son still on the sheets beside me. A little over six months since my life has effectively been turned upside down. Coming to town for the holiday, I knew I ran the risk of running into Colt, especially given that this is his parents’ house, but I keep reminding myself that this is for my dad. It’s not about Colt, not about me. It’s for my dad. My father deserves to be surrounded by happiness and love today, even if that means I will likely spend the entire afternoon uncomfortable.
Colt isn’t even here yet, and the sheer mention of his name has my pulse racing like a criminal about to get arrested for their crime. Sweat pricks the back of my neck and along my brows, my shirt suddenly too tight around my throat, and it feels like everybody in the room is privy to this salacious piece of gossip just from looking at me. But that’s absurd. I know it’s absurd. But so is hooking up with your best friend’s son, and I did that, so exactly what does it say about my own mental state?
Setting off to find Max, I stroll through the house and into the kitchen. Trish is putting a salad together at the counter, and when she throws me a look over her shoulder, her lips tug into another warm smile. “He’s in the garage,” she tells me, already knowing who I’m looking for.
“Thanks.”
Max and I have been friends since we were kids. We were thick as thieves growing up, and to this day, we will catch up on the phone at least once every other week, if not more.
A few years back, he renovated the detached garage into a workshop slash man cave, but this is the first time I’m seeing it in person. As I waltz in, he glances up from his current project, giving me a small grin.
“Hey, man. You made it.”
“I did, after the flights from hell.” I chuckle. “What are you working on?”
“Ah, Trish thrifted this hutch last month, and she asked me to refinish it. Finally getting around to it.”
Snickering as I watch him work, I say, “A once world-famous bull rider spends his retirement doing DIY projects.”
Max Bishop used to be a household name back in the day. A professional bull rider. One of the best, in fact, until an injury ended his career and nearly killed him.
He huffs out a laugh. “Fuck you, it’s relaxing, okay?” Pausing, he glances up. “How’re you doing today?”
The sincerity is his tone chokes me up. Clearing my throat, I nod. “I’m good. Just want my dad to have a nice day. I know he misses her, and today has got to be hard for him.”
Resuming what he was doing, he nods before quietly adding, “Remember, you can miss her too. She was your mom, and you can be there for your dad while still acknowledging your own grief.”
With decades of friendship comes knowledge. Max knows that I all too often will put everybody else’s feelings and needs above my own. Especially my father’s. I’ve always been this way, and I couldn’t even explain why. Even now, when he’s rightfully calling me out, my knee-jerk reaction is to insist that I’m fine again. Instead, I say nothing, and he thankfully lets me.
Nodding his chin behind me, Max mutters, “There’s beer in the fridge if you want one.”
“Cool, thanks.”
“Grab me one while you’re at it.”
The next half hour or so is spent catching up with my friend and tossing back a cold one. Despite it being years since we’ve seen each other, it feels like no time has passed at all. It’s always been like that with us; a solid friendship that doesn’t require a whole lot of maintenance.
Once we finish with our beers, Max tosses his empty can in the trash as I do the same before saying, “Well, we better get inside and socialize before Trish kicks our asses.”
I chuckle, but follow him out of the garage and across the yard toward the back door. It’s propped open, Trish probably wanting some fresh air while she cooks. As we step inside, I notice she’s still in here, along with Max’s mother. They’re each doing their own thing while they chat. Music is playing from a speaker set up on the counter, and the whole place smells even more delicious.
“About time you boys came back inside,” Trish teases as Max lays a kiss on her cheek. Those two are still as in love as they were when we were in high school. “Colt got here a few minutes ago,” she tells her husband. “He’s in the living room with your dad and Roger.”
There goes my racing pulse again.
This is fine. It’s for my dad, I tell myself, trying to calm my nerves. It happened months ago, and Colt probably forgot all about it. It was probably an unmemorable night for him. He more than likely has not spent ample time replaying every hazy detail. Heck, he’s a hot-shot professional bull rider now, and a popular one, from what I can tell. His drunken romp with an old guy will be the least of his concerns.
Shoulders rolled back, I stroll into the living room with Max, making sure to keep my eyes anywhere but on Colt, even though I can see him clearly in my periphery. I don’t know what I was thinking at that bar that night. It was careless and stupid and a mistake.
It shouldn’t have happened.
And most days, I’m able to push it out of my mind until late at night, but with him in the same room as me? Impossible. The memory rushes back; every feeling, every harsh breath, every touch, every sound, it’s right there in the forefront of my mind like it was last night.
Finally, and because I don’t want to be rude or raise concern, I let my gaze drift to Colt. He’s sitting directly next to my father on the couch, and it looks like he was showing him something on his phone. His bright green eyes meet mine, a twitch of humor tugging on one corner of his lips.
“William, I didn’t know you were going to be here,” he drawls with that same tone of confidence and swagger he always has.
“Nice to see you, Colt,” I say plainly, taking a seat in one of the open recliners. “How have you been?”
His grin is blinding. “Oh, you know, living the dream. How’s Seattle?” he asks, with mischief dancing in his eyes. “Staying out of trouble?”
My throat constricts, and I find it hard to swallow as my heart pounds aggressively. “Seattle is great,” I grit out.
“I keep telling him to move back to Copper Lake,” my father chimes in. “But Will’s always been a stubborn one, and he won’t listen.”
Holding my gaze, Colt’s eyes narrow slightly as he says, “What a shame.”
Swallowing thickly, I tune in to whatever conversation Max is having with his dad, and spend the rest of the afternoon doing whatever I can to avoid Colt. It’s not easy, considering his extroverted, bubbly personality has no issue slipping into conversations. I swear, the entire dinner I don’t take a single full breath, scared that if I do, all of my secrets will spill out with the air in my lungs.
We live states away, and it’s just one day. It’s fine.
It’s not like we have to see each other on a regular basis, or at all, really. Surely, I can get through this one day, because it’s for my dad.