Chapter 15
Zac
I dump my bag beside the weathered wood cabin Emmett owns at Clearwater Lake, then snatch up my rod and our food, heading down toward the pier.
The worn planks creak under my shoes as I approach. The boys already have a chair set up for me.
Two days. No work, no bullshit. Just a rod, cold beer, and peace.
I drop into my seat with a satisfied exhale. My shoulders lighten for what feels like the first time in weeks as I get comfortable.
The three of us sit there, rods in the water, sweating bottles of beer in hand. I look out across the lake; the water smooth, barely a ripple disturbing the surface. The air still has that fresh spring scent, and the sounds of nature wash over me.
“How’s it going at the shop?” Emmett asks Jameson.
I remain quiet, my eyes fixed on the spot where my line disappears into the water, but I reach for the hot fries on the table between us. I toss a handful into my mouth, the salt and grease hitting exactly right.
“Busy as ever.” Jameson shifts in his chair, making it squeak. “I shouldn’t really be leaving the guys, but I needed this before I blow a fuse.”
Emmett chuckles, the sound rumbling from his chest. “Yeah, it’s been busy at the bank too.”
Jameson cuts him a look, one eyebrow raised. “You’d say that even if it wasn’t. You like to pretend you’re important.”
“Banker wanker,” I mumble under my breath with a smirk, throwing back more fries.
Emmett’s head whips toward me. “What’d you say? Didn’t quite catch that.”
“You need to get your hearing checked, old man.” Jameson taps his ear with one finger, grinning.
Emmett rolls his eyes, the expression exaggerated as he stuffs his mouth with battered fish, flakes of golden crust falling onto his shirt. “You’re jealous,” he says around the mouthful. “You hate your job.”
Shaking my head, I take a pull from my beer. “I don’t hate my job. I hate my boss. Peltz is breathing down my neck about everything.”
Jameson leans forward, his chair groaning. “Still dealing with that probation shit?”
“Yeah. One more mistake, and I’m done. He’s made that crystal clear.” I grimace, thinking about how he manipulated me into taking Hannah’s case. “The guy’s got it out for me.”
The boys exchange looks.
“He’s a control freak,” Emmett says as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Always has been. You just gotta keep your head down and wait it out.”
“Easier said than done.” Frustration creeps back into my shoulders, and I drag a hand through my hair. “I can’t afford to give him ammunition.”
Jameson settles back in his chair, studying me. “You seem off lately, man. More stressed than usual. What’s really going on?”
“Nothing. Just work.”
But it’s a lie. The vision of her in the exam room with her blonde hair and blue eyes that looked at me like I was a person who mattered. The way her skin felt under my fingers when I was examining her ankle, and how I had to force myself to maintain professional distance.
“You need to get out of your head more,” Emmett says, pulling me back. “You’ve been distracted.”
“I’m fine.”
But I’m not. And it has nothing to do with Peltz.
I take a long pull of beer, lifting the bottle back and draining half of it, trying to drown out the memory before it takes over.
“What about you two?” I redirect. “Jameson? You’re awfully quiet over there.”
A whisper of a grin tugs at the corner of his mouth, and he ducks his head slightly. “Well…”
“Oh, there’s a bird?” Emmett perks up and leans forward with sudden interest.
“Woman,” I correct automatically, pointing at a duck sliding across the water. “That’s a bird.”
Emmett grabs a fry and chucks it at me. It bounces off my chest. “Alright, smartass. Woman.”
Jameson’s grin fades, replaced by something more complicated. “Yeah… there might be someone, but she’s way out of my league.”
I frown, searching his face. “What makes you say that?”
He looks down at his beer bottle and starts tearing at the label, peeling it in long strips. His chest rises as he sucks in a deep breath, like he’s preparing himself for confession. “Her wedding ring.”
“Oh, fuck!” Emmett blares, his voice exploding across the pier. He bends forward, doubled over with laughter, slapping his palm against his knee, then throws himself back in his chair so hard it nearly tips.
My stomach drops. “She’s married?”
Jameson’s face lifts, and he looks at me directly. There’s something vulnerable in his expression. “Based on the rock she’s wearing? Yeah.”
“Don’t go there,” I warn, the beer bottle suddenly heavy in my hand.
There’s one thing I don’t do, and that’s mess with people in relationships. I won’t be a bystander to that kind of shit. I don’t agree with it and never will. Friend or not, I’ll tell him straight: it’s unacceptable.
“I won’t, but—” Jameson sighs, like something’s playing on his mind.
“But what?” I press, turning to look at him directly.
He keeps his eyes on the water as he answers. “The connection is crazy. Like, fucking intense. And the reason I’m here this weekend is to avoid her.”
Emmett sits up straighter, interest sparking in his eyes. “Her car is getting fixed at your shop?”
Jameson’s gaze swings back to us, and he nods slowly. “Yeah. It’ll be there for a while. Major work.”
“Fuck.” Emmett lets out a low whistle. “Maybe stay here a while longer then.”
“I can’t avoid her forever,” Jameson resigns.
I stay silent because I know exactly what he means.
At least I have six weeks for this insane attraction to die off, because I know it will.
It has to. It’s just my body reminding me how long it’s been since I’ve had sex.
But I won’t touch anyone from town again; that’s too complicated, and I sure as hell can’t be with a patient. So, unless I go out of Pulse Point...
“Let’s take a trip somewhere.”
Both of their heads whip toward me, eyes wide with shock.
Emmett slaps his hands together. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”
Jameson just stares momentarily, his eyebrows raised, before slowly lifting his bottle toward me in a salute. “Good idea, man. Really good idea.”
“Boys’ trip coming up.” Emmett grins. “Where should we go?”
Jameson smirks as his eyes cut to Emmett. “I’m thinking we leave you here. You’ll scare the birds off.”
I laugh, turning to check my rod. Still no bites, and the line hangs slack in the water.
But honestly, this is exactly what I wanted. Just us, no pressure, having fun.
“Fuck off.” Emmett throws a rolled-up napkin at Jameson. “I’ll be the reason you two pick up anyone. Without me, you’ll stand in the corner, twiddling your thumbs like middle schoolers.”
“We know how to talk to women,” I counter with an eye roll.
“I’ve seen you try, and you’re pathetic at best.”
“What makes you say that?” I challenge. “Because I’m not dry-humping them on the dance floor?”
“Or literally fucking them in the bathroom stalls?” Jameson points his bottle at Emmett.
Emmett shrugs, completely unbothered, that cocky grin still plastered on his face. “At least I don’t have blue balls.”
“I’ll give you that,” I agree, and Jameson nods.
We sit there talking shit, eating cold seafood until every last fry and piece of fish is gone. Jameson catches a fish, a decent-sized one, and I catch seaweed tangled in my line, which makes them both howl with laughter.
But tomorrow is a new day. And here, there are no worries about my future or anyone waiting for me to make a mistake.
The next morning, I’m up before the other guys, my internal alarm clock dragging me out of sleep before dawn breaks. I’m ready to spend another full day at the pier and maybe catch something this time.
But first, coffee. One thing I need every morning is a good coffee.
So, I lace up my running shoes and head out to the local coffee shop.
I enjoy the different scenery compared to home; my feet hitting the dirt path here instead of a concrete sidewalk.
There’s something about the lack of houses, people, and noise that washes away the stress of the past few weeks.
When I get back to the cabin, they haven’t woken yet, which surprises me. We’re all usually awake early. The place is silent except for Emmett’s snoring coming from one of the bedrooms. I put the food and coffee on the small kitchen table and take the opportunity to shower.
Afterwards, I dress in cargo pants and a hoodie; my hair still damp as I grab my coffee and a croissant and head back outside.
With a satisfied exhale, I settle into my chair.
The steam rises from my coffee as I take a bite of my buttery croissant, staring out at nothing.
What I like about this cabin spot compared to the others is that people don’t come here.
The common one is Swan Lake because the shops and amenities are closer.
That means crowds, noise, the exact things we’re trying to escape.
Jameson emerges first, the cabin door squeaking on its hinges. His hair is sticking up in about five different directions.
“Morning. Coffee and food’s on the table inside,” I say, turning around briefly before bringing my eyes back to the water.
“Thanks, man.” His voice is still rough with sleep. “You been up a while?”
I glance at my watch; one my parents brought me for graduation. “An hour or so.”
“Coffee might be cold by now. You want me to heat it up?” I offer, looking back at him.
“Nah, all good.” He waves me off, disappearing back inside.
A few minutes later, there’s rustling, then shoes crunching across the wooden planks. The sound drags my gaze to the side.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” I say, taking in Emmett’s disheveled appearance.
“Morning, dickhead,” he replies, before taking a massive bite of an apple turnover and slumping into his chair.
We sit in comfortable silence for a while as we each finish our food and drinks, and then set about preparing the bait and casting our rods.