Chapter 8
Jett
While on this side of the river, where Drummond Farms and Riggsby Cattle meet, there’s a muddy shoreline separating our land from the water.
The water moves past in its steady rush, swollen from spring rains, brown at the edges where it chews up the banks.
The current is flowing, but not fast enough to worry about being washed away.
It’s one of the reasons I love this spot. No matter how much rain we get, it’s always safe enough to jump in and cool off.
This spot hasn’t changed in decades. When my dad and Mark Drummond both took over their farms, the two decided to make this a gathering place.
An open shelter house stands, its beams weathered and concrete floor cracked from years of parties and floods.
When we were little, our families held cookouts here.
All of us kids would jump in and swim in the river for hours.
My brother, Crew, would sit on my shoulders while Wren would sit on her brother’s as we played chicken.
Even with Wren having a few years on Crew, it wasn’t a fair match.
Crew’s height and build always gave him the advantage.
Our family cookouts transitioned into wild parties once we hit high school. The guys and I would pile into our trucks to haul kegs down here and build bonfires as we danced to music playing from speakers.
Now it’s lawn chairs lining the banks, fishing line dancing in the current, and sunflower seeds being chewed, instead of parties, wild nights, and cigarettes. Well, sometimes still cigarettes, but only when Audrey isn’t present.
Speaking of Audrey, I glance over to where she sits in the lawn chair closest to me.
Her line dangles out in the current, her long blonde braid brushing her back.
She’s humming along with the tune Baker’s playing on his guitar, concentrating as if catching a fish is the most important job in the world.
And to her, it is. The girl is competitive, and whenever we bring her out with us, she’s on a mission to catch the biggest fish and brag about it to Davis.
Levi stands a few feet farther down the bank. A cooler is open at his feet as he fishes out a worm. He looks relaxed, looser than I’ve seen him in weeks, though his eyes tell a different story. He works himself ragged while running his daughter to and from practices and games.
Turning to my left, I watch my other friend. Davis is Davis. Always stoic, chewing seeds, and spitting shells with sniper precision into the river. His SBPD cap turned backward as he cast his line again.
For a moment, I let myself breathe in the simplicity of this. Fishing on a Saturday with my friends, my family. The sounds of the water, the pop of the sunflower seeds against my teeth, the occasional burst of laughter from Audrey as Davis screws up his cast or catches weeds.
This is what I tell myself I want. Normal. Simple. But my chest is tight. Because no matter how much I try to settle into life as a civilian, something claws at me. Guilt, grief, restlessness… I don’t know what the fuck it is.
And Wren. Always fucking Wren.
It’s been a little over a week since we danced together at Sunset Shores.
Days since her warm body molded perfectly against mine, the way I remembered.
Her laugh drowned out the music playing.
The way her smile met her eyes as they glimmered with mischief.
It all felt so familiar. I’ve pretended it didn’t happen, acting as if I don’t replay it every damn night—as if I haven't gotten off remembering the scent of her, the way she writhed against me, and the way my hands gripped her hips.
Fuck.
The same floral scent she wore years ago lingered on me long after we parted that night, and as I closed my eyes, it brought me right back here.
To being seventeen, her hand in mine as we snuck off from a bonfire to the back of my truck parked down the way.
Her head on my chest as we made promises in the dead of night.
And even though those memories are painful, I’d rather be stuck reliving them than the ones keeping me tethered to the darker parts of my past. A life of sand instead of grass.
Gun oil instead of river water. Where I’m sitting against a wall in a shack with Rafe beside me.
We tell stories to stay awake, both of us waiting for our operative to make an appearance.
Both of us talking about home like we can hop on a plane tomorrow.
“We’ll fish together,” I tell him, voice cracked and dry. “When this is over, you’ll bring Sarah and the kids to Silo Bay. We’ll fish while the kids play with the animals. We’ll barbecue and drink ice-cold beer.”
“A cold beer and my kids' laughter sounds incredible right now,” Rafe adds, sounding wistful.
But we never got that cold beer, and I’ve never heard his kids’ laughter. I failed him. I’m the reason a father didn’t go home to his kids. I stare at the cloudless sky, hoping Rafe is up there having a beer and watching his kids.
“Uncle Jett!”
Audrey’s voice yanks me back, and I clear my throat, swallowing down the emotions. Her pole jerks, reel spinning, her body vibrating with joy. Levi tosses his pole aside, and I do the same as we rush over to help Auds.
“Keep the tip up, steady, don’t yank too hard,” her dad coaches her.
“Oh my gosh, I’ve caught a fish before,” she grumbles, her teenage attitude showing.
Audrey fights the reel, muscles straining. “It’s huge!”
“It’s a log,” Davis deadpans.
“Shut up,” she snaps, eyes blazing as she glares over at him. I grin despite myself. Levi has created a monster with her. She’s as competitive as the rest of us. Stubborn and fierce. She doesn’t take shit from anyone, no matter the age.
The line splashes, a flash of silver in the sunlight breaks the surface. She shrieks in triumph, reaching down and sticking her thumb in the mouth of the bass. “Ha! What now, Uncle Davis?”
Levi whoops, and I congratulate her while Baker laughs from his spot. As I watch them, warmth tugs at the corners of something I don’t let myself feel too often. Pride, maybe. Or longing for a future I want but will never have.
Audrey holds her catch up, and we admire the large bass. Levi fishes out his phone and captures a picture.
“Auds, take that over to Davis and have him hold up the grass he’s getting off his hook,” Baker calls out as I bark out a laugh, watching Davis unravel the chunk of weeds. He flicks the middle finger.
“Aw, c’mon, Uncle Davis. Don’t be a sore loser.”
“Damn, Levi, you’re going to be batting the boys away from this one,” Baker jokes.
“Ew, boys are gross.”
Levi flings his arm over her shoulders, pulling her in for a side hug. “That’s my girl.”
“Besides, I don’t have time for boys. Not with Dad’s schedule,” Audrey grumbles as we look at her. “He has me running drills for softball and volleyball, running laps in our neighborhood, and taking a self-defense class.”
“Smart man,” Davis praises Levi. “Self-defense classes are important.”
Audrey rolls her eyes. “You would agree with him.”
Davis nods, the cop in him coming to the surface. “Who’s teaching them?”
“The dojo outside of town.”
Davis nods again, a man of few words.
“Wait till the boys hear who her uncle is.” Baker laughs, flicking his gaze to me. “The legendary Jett Riggsby.”
I flip him off without looking.
“Legendary?” Audrey asks, confusion creasing her eyebrows. “Is that code for something?”
“Trouble,” Levi answers. “Trouble finds Jett wherever he goes.”
I shrug, fingers itching for a smoke. Trouble. Legend. All other ways to say fuckup. Or at least, that’s what I was before everything happened.
“Who’s that?” Audrey asks, pointing toward one of the grass trails. Four sets of eyes turn to where she’s pointing.
Baker nudges my shoulder, a shit-eating grin pasted on his face. “Speak of the devil.”
“Huh?” Audrey asks.
“Trouble finds Jett wherever he goes, and look, there she is,” Davis answers, shaking his head.
Wren’s long, bare legs stride effortlessly over the trail, looking far too damn sexy.
Each flex of muscle and gleam of sweat makes my body tighten in ways I don’t attempt to hide.
Her running shorts barely cover her, riding up enough to remind me what it used to feel like when those legs locked around my hips.
My gaze drags higher to where the sweat darkens the fabric at her chest as droplets travel down between her tits.
Fuck, if I’m not half-hard watching her run.
“You’ve got a little,” Baker interrupts my staring and gestures to the side of his face.
“Fuck off,” I grumble, shaking my head.
“Wren Drummond,” Levi calls out, grin stretching wide, as Wren’s head whips in our direction. “Look at you.”
His words having startled her, Wren slows, catching her breath before smiling at my friend. “Levi!”
The two share a smile that has me jealous as she jogs toward us. She wipes her forehead with the back of her hand before she throws herself at my best friend. He catches her easily, ignoring her sweat-soaked body.
“This feels familiar.” Wren’s voice is loud enough for us to hear. Levi chuckles, twirling her around.
“Holy shit,” Audrey says as she takes in her dad embracing a woman. I’m pretty sure she’s never seen her dad show any interest in a woman before. “You’re her.”
Wren turns to Audrey as Levi sets her down but doesn’t remove his arm from around her back. I’ve never wanted to break an arm so badly. And yes, I know that’s an irrational thought to have toward my best friend.
Audrey’s frozen in place, her mouth hanging agape as if she’s meeting a celebrity— Well, in a way, she is.
“Auds, this is Wren.”
“I know who she is, Dad,” Audrey interrupts.
Wren’s eyes widen in recognition. “Oh my god, this is Audrey?”
“She’s obviously not a baby anymore,” I grumble. Wren’s eyes slice toward me, glaring daggers at my smart-ass comment.
“I can’t believe I’m meeting someone who was on TV. I’ve watched all the seasons of your show,” Audrey gushes, having a total fan-girl moment. Wren cringes slightly at the mention of her show. Her gaze slides my way again.
Yes, I caught the cringe.
Levi chuckles. “Friend is a better word, Auds. You’re meeting a friend.”
She scoffs as Wren’s cheeks flush a deeper pink, and not from her run. “I’m not that big of a deal. Besides, I've changed your diapers.”
Audrey’s eyes widen even more, her cheeks flaming. “Oh my god.”
“Nothing to be embarrassed about, Auds,” Davis cuts in. “We’ve all changed your diapers.”
“Yeah, but you’re you, not someone who’s been on the red carpet.”
Wren chokes out an awkward laugh, stepping cautiously closer to Audrey. “You’ve grown into a beautiful girl. I can’t believe how tall you are. Clearly, you got your height from your dad.”
“She’s got his competitiveness too,” Baker supplies, and Wren peeks over her shoulder as Levi shrugs.
Audrey looks like her brain might explode. “This is insane. You’re, like, famous. Can I take a picture with you? My friends are going to freak out.”
“Audrey Christine,” Levi scolds, and Audrey’s shoulders droop. “Wren’s a person.”
Wren waves him off. “It’s fine, Levi. I don’t mind.”
I watch, silently, as Wren moves beside Audrey. “Sorry, I’m sweating.”
“It’s okay, I’ll take a good angle.”
A chuckle leaves Wren’s lips, and it’s like taking a hit. The sound slips through my soul, fueling my racing heart.
“I’m insulted,” Davis mocks. “When was the last time you took a selfie with your favorite uncle?”
Auds laughs. “I took a selfie with Uncle Jett after my softball game. I don’t know the last time I took a picture with you.”
Baker barks out a laugh, his fist covering his mouth. “Want some ice for that burn?”
“Well,” Wren breaks the laughter. “On that note, I better get back to my run.”
Levi nods, but there’s something in his eyes. Caution. But over what, I’m not sure. “Good to see you, Wren.”
“It was so nice to meet you…well, again.” Audrey throws her arms around Wren, and I smile at the sight.
“You too.” Her gaze flicks to me briefly, but it’s still long enough to burn.
Then she’s jogging again, hair swinging, leaving the air heavier than when she arrived. I follow her every movement, unable to break the trance I find myself in.
Silence stretches until Audrey dramatically sighs. “You’re down bad, Uncle Jett. I can’t believe you fumbled her.”
Baker and Davis lose it, and Baker claps me on the back before stalking off to pick up his guitar. Davis heads toward his fishing pole, Audrey hot on his heels, the two talking more shit.
But it’s Levi who sticks around. I can feel his gaze but can’t bring myself to acknowledge it. Audrey’s right. I did fumble her, and I’m afraid I’ll never recover from that.
He grips my shoulder, stopping me from following the others. “I still feel it.”
“What?” I ask him.
“The fire between you two.”