5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Trent
The for sale sign goes up on a Tuesday.
I see it on my way to her cottage with breakfast sandwiches.
It’s white and red at the end of Gus's driveway, planted in the grass like it has every right to be there.
There's a realtor's car parked next to Josie's, and through the front window I can see a guy in a golf shirt gesturing at the ceiling beams like he's already pricing them.
Something goes tight in my chest and stays that way.
I knew. She told me the fine print herself, at the pizza table, in front of everybody. Just for the summer. I said understood like a big boy.
But that was before two weeks of sunrises.
Before I knew she hums when she paints baseboards and argues with podcasts and puts a truly criminal amount of butterscotch in her coffee because it reminds her of Gus.
Before she caught her first fish and looked at me like the lake had handed her a treasure.
Josie comes out on the porch as the realtor drives off, and her smile when she sees me is the real one, the quick bright one. Then she sees my face, and her smile dims.
"You saw the sign," she says.
"Hard to miss." I hand her a sandwich and manufacture a grin. "Bold choice, red and white. Really pops against the hydrangeas."
"Trent."
I sit on the porch steps. "It's fine. It's the plan. I'm a big fan of the plan.” A total load of bullshit.
She sits next to me, and for a second we're okay again, basking in the sunlight on Gus’s porch stairs.
Then she says, quietly, "The realtor thinks it'll move fast. Cottages on this cove don't come up much. He said to expect an offer within the week."
A week.
"Well," I say, when I can talk. "Then we'd better make it a good week."
I throw everything at it. I'm not proud; I'm a man fishing for keeps, and I intend to use the whole tackle box.
Wednesday, I take her to the overlook where you can see the whole lake at once, and I point out every dock and cove and tell her the story that goes with each one until the sun's gone.
Thursday, at pizza, the crew does my work for me.
Rayna sends her home with Ooey Gooey Sticks "for later," Aileen recruits her to design the fishing camp's new logo, Mikki flat-out says "you know this town needs a designer," and Chrissy starts a sentence with "next summer, you and me are—" before catching herself.
Josie doesn't correct her. I notice. I notice everything now.
Friday, Liam gets his revenge. He struts up to the rental counter with a sixteen-year-old in tow.
"Trent," he says, "meet my new derby partner. You might remember him from such events as winning the entire Bass Classic."
Tommy Brandt gives me a little wave.
"A ringer," I say, my voice incredulous. "You hired a child ringer."
"His dad signed the form. It's all legal." Liam's grin could power the marina. "Nine years, buddy. You want to break up the team? Fine. Saturday, Tommy and I are taking you down.”
"Want to bet?”
"Absolutely.”
From behind me, Josie's laughing. She's been perched on my counter all afternoon with her laptop, working on the camp logo, and the sight of her there—like she fits, like it's normal—hits me harder than any smack talk.
"We accept," she tells Liam sweetly. "And when we beat you, you're eating your hat."
"Awfully cocky for a woman who can’t fish.”
"I couldn’t fish,” Josie says. “But that was eighteen days ago. Now, I’m pretty damn good.”
“She sure is,” I say, but I’m not really taking about fishing.
That night I walk her to her car, and I don't let go of her hand.
"Come to dinner tomorrow," I say. "Your place. I'll cook. Just you and me and Gus's porch."
She looks up at me for a long moment, and I watch her decide something.
"Okay," she says. "Tomorrow."