Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
The evening breeze that skimmed across the deck at Juniper's made Trent forget it was Florida in the summer—or at least made him forget long enough to enjoy a cold beer without sweating through his shirt.
Trent leaned back in his chair, one arm draped over the back of Dove's seat, and watched his friends laugh at the tail end of Buddy's proposal story while Harley admired Fallon's engagement ring.
Trent couldn't be happier for his friends.
The big round table they'd commandeered was littered with the aftermath of dinner—empty plates smeared with remoulade, a basket that had once held hush puppies, the balled-up napkins of people who'd eaten well and weren't sorry about it.
Juniper had outdone herself tonight. Blackened grouper that melted on your tongue, fried green tomatoes stacked with pimento cheese, and a key lime pie that Fallon had declared "almost as good as Linda's.
" The compliment had hit Trent somewhere soft, but in a good way.
His mother would've loved knowing her pie had competition.
"Alright, alright," Cullen said, waving his beer bottle at Trent. "You've been holding out on us all night. Time to tell the boat story.”
"Which one?" Trent asked. “Because everything amusing that happened during our childhood happened on a boat.” He pointed his finger.
“Including the time we were maybe six-years-old, and you thought it was perfectly fine to take an inflatable floaty raft out into the Glades. Damn near gave my father a heart attack when you floated right on by a bunch of hungry gators.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t know I was in danger, and your dad just paddled that rowboat out there and scooped me up like it was nothing.” Cullen laughed. “But I’m talking about the one where Fallon over there was trying to impress… someone.”
Fallon groaned. "Oh, God. Not that one. It totally makes me look like an idiot.”
“I think someone else looks like a big doofus, as well.” Cullen leaned back and took a swig of his beer.
“Oh, now this sounds interesting,” Buddy said, grinning. He pulled Fallon closer against his side. “I mean, she rarely does anything that makes her look foolish, besides the time she dated Trent—which I chalk up to a moment of insanity—”
“Hey, I’m insulted—besides, she's marrying you.” Trent clutched his chest in mock offense, but the truth was, he wasn't. Not even a little.
“I'm the luckiest man in the room,” Buddy said. “Now give me some fresh ammunition to tease her with.”
“No more chocolates in your lunchbox,” Fallon mumbled.
“I doubt that.” Buddy kissed her temple.
Dove leaned forward, her chin propped on her hand. "Now, I definitely need to hear this."
Trent took a long pull of his beer, savoring the moment. For months, he’d been a walking zombie while he’d taken care of his mother. All he’d wanted was to cherish her final days. Spend as much time with her as he could, because he’d taken way too much for granted.
After she died, it was like he’d put a foot in the grave with her. But it was time to start living again, and there was no better way to do it than with this group.
Fallon was already turning pink. He’d told this story many times, and it wasn’t so much that she was embarrassed by why she’d done it, but more that it happened at all. "So, Fallon here was maybe sixteen—"
"Fifteen," Fallon muttered. "I was fifteen—a child. A silly kid.”
“Who thought she was an adult,” Trent added. "And there were these boys—twins. Sean and Pat Hamlin. They lived in the next town over but kept their boat at Mitchell’s because their dad was friends with Ray, Baily’s dad and they were eighteen. Too old for Fallon.”
“Technically, they were.” Cullen tapped his fingers on the wooden table. “But everyone that Fallon has ever been interested in was too old for her.”
“Do you want to tell this story?” Trent asked.
“No.” Cullen lifted his beer. “Proceed.”
“Cullen and I were out minding our own business—”
“Trying not to kill each other,” Cullen said, interrupting Trent.
“Exactly.” Trent chuckled. “Those two boys were maybe thirty feet from us, and here comes Fallon, all by herself in her skiff, decked out in fishing gear. Cullen and I looked at each other and it took everything we had not to laugh because you know, we both liked Fallon, but we couldn’t understand what the heck she was doing because she wasn’t acting like herself. ”
“Gee, thanks,” Fallon mumbled.
“I assumed she was trying to impress those boys, though I can’t imagine why. They were idiots,” Trent said.
"I was fifteen," Fallon repeated, like that explained everything. “I was an idiot, but they weren’t bad to look at.”
“Yeah, no comment.” Trent grinned. "So she cruises up to me and Cullen and asks me if I could help her to practice her cast, work on her technique. Very innocent. Very wholesome."
"You're laying this on awfully thick," Fallon said.
"I'm setting the scene. It's called storytelling.
" Trent winked, enjoying the way his pulse spiked.
How his chest rumbled, and how he could picture the day as if it were yesterday.
His mom would want him to keep having moments like this.
To share his world with his friends. To laugh. To live. To love.
Cullen snorted. “Come on, Fallon, he’s not exaggerating.”
“Whatever.” Fallon lifted her drink and sipped.
“Anyway, I’m helping her, and I’m thinking to myself, she’s got this. She doesn’t need me to help her get those morons to notice her,” Trent continued, “and I tell her that and—"
"Your first mistake," Dove said.
Trent chuckled. “One of many. But now those Hamlin boys are on the move. As a matter of fact, they drove right on past us. I asked her if she needed to go and she glances at her watch and nods.” Trent paused for effect.
“She stands, and the boat rocks, a little too much, and now I have to stand because it looks like she’s about to fall, and I grab her by the hips, and help her back into her boat. ”
“Fallon, you did not.” Buddy jerked his head back and stared at her. “He was how old back then?”
“Twenty-one,” Fallon said. “But he didn’t know what I was doing.”
“Not a clue.” Trent smacked his palm to his forehead. “She was just a kid at the time. A family friend.”
"What happened next?” Dove asked.
“I thought she was simply trying to impress those twins because she yanked the cord on the two-stroke to restart it, but she pulled too hard, lost her balance, and went ass-over-teakettle right off the side of the boat." Trent mimed the motion with his hand. "Splash. Gone."
Buddy tossed his head back and laughed. “I would’ve killed to see that. Please tell me there's more."
"Oh, there's more." Cullen grinned. "Fallon hadn’t noticed—because she was too busy making eyes at Trent—"
“Hey, Trent didn’t notice either.” Fallon waved her hand.
“I didn't notice a lot of things that day,” Trent said. “You see, we'd drifted right next to Old Moses's favorite sunning spot."
Dove's eyes went wide. “I know you, Mallor, and something tells me that’s a name for a gator.”
“A thirteen-foot one. Meaner than a stepped-on snake. He'd been living in that stretch of water for as long as I could remember, and he did not appreciate being disturbed by a teenage girl cannonballing into his afternoon nap."
"Oh no," Harley said, though she was laughing.
"Oh yes." Trent shook his head. "Fallon comes up sputtering, water in her eyes, still trying to look cool—and Old Moses is about ten feet away, giving her the kind of look that says, 'dinner just arrived.'"
"I didn't see him, at first," Fallon said. "I was disoriented and honestly mortified that my future boyfriend had just seen me make a fool of myself.”
“For the record, that boyfriend thing didn’t happen for another five years.” Trent lifted his beer. “But I distinctly remember her coming up for air and doing her best to smooth down her hair. Like all she cared about was what she looked like, and that was so unlike Fallon.”
The table erupted in laughter. Even Fallon was smiling now, the embarrassment giving way to the comfortable nostalgia of a story told too many times to hurt anymore.
"So what happened?" Dove asked.
"I dove in after her." Trent shrugged like it was nothing. "Grabbed her by the back of her shirt and hauled her toward the boat while Moses decided whether we were worth the effort. Lucky for us, he'd already eaten that day. We got back in the boat, and Fallon spent the next few days avoiding me.”
“And you couldn’t figure out why,” Cullen said, barely containing his laughter. He leaned forward, his eyes bright with mischief. "But here's the thing, it took a bit for Trent to understand.” He pointed his beer bottle at Fallon. "It wasn't the Hamlin boys she was trying to impress."
Trent rolled his eyes. “I still think she liked one of them.”
"Come on, man." Cullen laughed. "She didn't give a damn about those boys. She was trying to get your attention."
“I can’t believe you chose to swim in the water with a gator named Old Moses just to get this man’s attention.” Dove patted Trent’s cheek.
"It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Fallon said.
Buddy pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I'm glad the gator didn't eat you. For selfish reasons."
"The crush didn't last anyway," Fallon said, waving her hand dismissively. "Living with him killed it pretty quick." She shot Trent a look. "He's a pain in the ass. Leaves his boots everywhere. Talks to the gators more than he talks to people. And don't even get me started on his cooking."
"My cooking is fine." He lowered his chin.
"Your cooking is survival food at best. I gained ten pounds after I moved out just from eating actual meals." Fallon leaned into Buddy, and it warmed Trent’s heart that she’d found love.
"She's not wrong," Cullen said. "I've had your chili. It's basically meat-flavored punishment."