19
Day Trip
Mitch
Even from fifty feet away, Spencer’s golden locks glimmer in the sunlight.
“I’m here. I’m here,” I say, breathless, running up the dock.
“Thought you might not make it,” he says, giving me a side hug, but there’s a slight pause, as if he’s holding it for a few seconds more than he usually would.
People have been doing that a lot lately.
“Sorry. I slept in.”
“You never sleep in. Who were you really doing?”
I wave him off. He knows Kayla’s been hitting on me. A lot. But he also knows that even though I was interested at first, I’m not anymore and that we never did anything together.
“Getting used to being unemployed,” I answer flippantly as we walk down the dock.
The truth is, last night I drove out to the bluffs and sat in my car, fighting my mind and my body’s desperate need for something to numb the pain.
Since Dad had his stroke, Maxine and I have focused on the inn—plastering, painting, general fixing shit up—as if we’re doing anything to keep from dealing with almost losing Bill.
And especially from dealing with what happened while camping or the possibility of what’s budding between us.
I’m sure we’re both thinking how at some point we’ll need to deal with it, but we’re both so good at pretending it doesn’t exist.
“What happened to Germany?” he asks.
“It’s still a maybe.” I force a smile only because I can’t have this conversation today. I’m still on edge from how everything’s drastically changed in the last few days. My failed career is the last thing I want to deal with. “What are your thoughts on podcasts?”
Spencer bumps my shoulder lightly. “Are you doing a podcast?”
“No, just asking,” I reply.
“Are we talking sports podcasts or podcasts in general?”
“Dude, whatever,” I reply with an annoyed eye roll.
“I think they’re great. There are loads of them now. I mean, anyone with a mouth seems to have one.” Suddenly, he stops walking. I turn around to face him. “If you’re considering doing one, I think it would be great for you.”
I smile. “Aww, that’s sweet. Admit it. You don’t want me to go to Germany,” I say, gripping his shoulder.
His expression falls as he swats my hand away.
“No, Mitch, I don’t,” he says, his tone serious.
“You know I’d never stand in the way of your career, and I’ll support whatever choice you make.
But let’s be real here. You can’t go to Germany.
I’m not saying you need to stay in Oakwhite, but… Just don’t go to Germany.”
In the years I’ve been friends with Spencer, I’ve never seen him so sincere, so concerned. It’s unsettling, and makes my throat tighten with emotion.
“What’s brought this on?”
He shrugs as we start to walk. “I’ve spent too much time with Bethany. She’s making me all mushy.”
I laugh, nudging him with my shoulder. “It looks good on you. Being in love.”
“Shut up.” He nudges me back a little harder, and I bump into the dock’s railing, laughing.
This new sentimental side of Spencer is unrecognizable, but I’ve been feeling the same since I came home.
Being around the guys and working at the brewery has reminded me that life doesn’t need to be chaos and sleepless nights.
I’ve lived that kind of life for over ten years—I’m not exactly sure I’d hate quieting down for a bit.
“Logan Tremblay wants to do a podcast.”
Spencer nods. “You two would be great together.”
“That’s what he said.”
“But you don’t want to because…”
We reach the ramp that leads onto the boat and stop. Unsure, I stare at the wooden planks.
What exactly is stopping me from saying yes to Logan? Am I holding out for something perfect? Will I even get another offer that’s better than Germany? For that matter, do I even want another offer? Is life giving me everything I could need, but I’m too fucking stupid to see it?
I release a long sigh, shaking my head and shrug. “I really don’t know, man.”
Spencer offers me an understanding smile, then rests his hand on my shoulder. “How about you put those troubles aside for today? Let’s do some sailing.”
We walk onto Quiet on the Sea, the ninety-foot sailboat yacht Spencer’s mom bought after she won her first Oscar, and I see my parents sitting at the bow, tucked beneath a checkered woolen blanket. The sun’s out, it’s a comfortable eighty today, but once we’re on the water, it’ll get chilly.
“Thanks again for doing this, Spence.”
“Don’t mention it. They deserve a day on the sea.”
Even though I’m sure Dad’s doctor would be against him boating in his condition, once Bill Adams is determined to make something happen, it does.
And that’s why he’s here, basking in the sun, in the arms of the woman he loves.
His color seems to have improved, though that might be last-minute hopeful thinking on my part.
The tube in his nose and the oxygen tank at his side are the only real signs he’s even sick.
I pause, watching them, then smile when Mom glances up and waves.
I won’t ever understand how she took him back and stuck by his side, but I get that she’d rather enjoy the brief moments of happiness they’ve got left and ignore what’s about to happen.
And whatever it takes, I’ll do my best to let them enjoy their time together with all the baggage it may carry.
“Look who finally showed up,” Mom says when I walk over.
Dad turns his head slowly toward me. “Thought maybe you fell in.” His voice is rougher now, weaker, but still full of sarcasm.
I crouch beside them. “How are you feeling?”
“Like your mother kidnapped me,” Dad answers.
Mom scoffs. “Don’t complain. You begged to come.”
“I did no such thing.”
“You pouted until I called Spencer.”
Dad looks at me. “Your mother’s become a liar in her old age.”
“Old age? I’m sixty-three, not an old hag.”
“Robyn, you don’t look a day over thirty,” Spencer says behind me, and I roll my eyes, but Mom points at him with a dimpled smile.
“You see, Bill? That’s why Spencer’s always been my favorite,” she says.
Spencer offers her a wink, and she giggles.
“Well, he’s mine today, too, but only because he’s letting us use the boat,” Dad jokes.
We all laugh, even Mom, who leans her head on Dad’s shoulder. He smirks, but I’m not sure if it’s because he’s so proud of his joke, or because of the lady by his side. I hope it’s the latter.
While the dockhands untie the ropes and Spencer heads to the helm to ease us out to sea, I join everyone else sitting at the stern.
“He made it!” Hunter cheers, getting up to hug me.
I step into the recessed sitting area and slide onto the white leather seat next to him. Bethany and Celia are chatting with Maxine, who barely gives me a second glance, too focused on her conversation.
There’s been a lot of that lately—subtle looks laced with tension.
“Hey, Mitch,” Bethany says, finally noticing me. “Your dad seems to be doing a lot better.” Her soft, kind smile and eyes don’t hide the sadness behind them, but I smile back anyway.
“Yeah, he is,” I lie.
This morning I decided that’s how today would go: lying and avoiding reality. Which is fine. On a beautiful day like this one, hanging out with the people I care about the most, nothing should ruin it, especially not talk of lingering death.
A half-hour later, I drift away from the others, needing a second to breathe. Or rather I need a second where it doesn’t feel as if everyone is watching me.
The farther I get from the chatter, the more I focus on the creak of the yacht, the steady rush of water cutting against the hull, even the gulls crying overhead. I rest my forearms on the railing and stare out at the endless stretch of dark blue.
A few minutes pass when I hear footsteps approaching. Spencer stops beside me, leaning against the railing with his shoulder brushing mine. He hands me a beer.
“Why are you hiding over here?”
“Not hiding, just taking in the view.”
“Looks suspiciously like you pouting.”
I let out a quiet snort into my beer. “Are you always this annoying?”
“Only with people I care about.” He glances sideways at me. “What’s up?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
He cocks his head. “Mitch…”
I sigh. “Honestly, I’m okay. Dad’s great today. Better.” The words come automatically now. “He’s in a good mood, so that’s all I could hope for.”
Spencer watches me for a second before shaking his head. “That’s not what I meant.”
I already know where this is going, and I hate how my stomach tightens. I look back out at the ocean immediately. “We’re fine.”
“That’s bullshit.”
I take a swig of my beer. “We barely talk. Just like the good old days,” I reply deadpan.
“Right… Look, I’ve known you two forever. You think I don’t see it?”
“See what?”
“Whatever is going on between you two.”
“Nothing’s going on.”
“There’s always been something going on.”
I shake my head and frown. “You’re crazy.”
“No, I’m not. You used to worship that girl.”
“That’s a tad dramatic.”
“And yet, completely accurate.”
I take a long draw from my bottle, mostly to avoid answering.
The wind pushes through Spencer’s hair, tangling those stupid golden locks girls have been obsessed with for years.
Even now, standing here trying to have a serious conversation, he somehow still looks like he belongs in a Ralph Lauren ad.
“I don’t get it,” Spencer hesitates. “I’ve never understood why you two keep fighting this.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “And you wouldn’t understand, either. Things are… complicated.”
“No shit.”
I rub the back of my neck, staring down at the waves. “You know what the problem is?”
Spencer waits quietly.
“I feel like the damage is done. Like there’s no fixing us.
” The words surprise me a little once they’re out.
My jaw tightens. “I left, Spence. And yeah, what she did was bad, too, but I left her to deal with everything, only after making sure she knew how much I hated her.” I shake my head, remembering my sharp words.
How the betrayal had led me to push her away.
“One minute she was my best friend, and then suddenly it was like she meant nothing.”
“You were a kid.”
“That doesn’t mean it was right. It doesn’t make any of it okay.
” Sadly, the confession doesn’t relieve the heaviness in my chest. I stare out at the horizon, my voice quieter.
“And now everything’s weird. Sometimes it’s like she’s with me again, like before.
Like nothing’s changed.” I clutch my bottle, thinking about the tent, the woods.
“Then other times, she looks at me like she hates my guts. Like she’ll never forgive me. ”
He drops his head to the side. “She doesn’t hate you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
I finally glance at him. Spencer’s expression is calm, as if he solved this issue hours ago and is waiting for me to catch up.
“She cares about you,” he says. “Honestly, it’s kind of painfully obvious.”
I bark out a laugh. “Right.”
“I’m serious.”
“No, you’re seeing things.”
Leaning his hip on the railing, Spencer faces me. “That girl looks at you like she’s constantly trying not to. She always has. And don’t even tell me nothing happened camping, because it was written all over your face.”
My cheeks blush and I immediately look away again. “Even if that were true, it doesn’t matter.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m leaving. Eventually. Whether it’s Germany, or somewhere else. And if we’re already on shaky ground, imagine starting something with her and then ditching her. How stable would that be?”
Spencer goes quiet at that. For a few seconds, there’s only the sound of water and wind keeping us company.
“Here’s a thought,” he begins, his voice soft. “What if there’s a way you two could finally settle this issue between you?”
I grip the railing tighter and stare straight ahead. “Yeah? What’s that?”