Asher
Good. Quit being a chickenshit and go inside.
I shake my head, wondering how my brother knew. Before I go inside, I text another one of my old hockey friends, Patterson Cross, knowing I have to make an effort with the people who care about me.
Nick
Have to take a rain check for our drinks next Friday. I’m in Cozy Creek until November.
Patterson
What the hell? Why?
Nick
Asher said I needed a vacation. If you get bored, you should come check out the harvest festival. Got a place for you to stay.
Patterson
Might take you up on that. Tell Zane I said sup.
Nick
Will do.
I force myself out of the Range Rover and up the steps to the door. I give three knocks. Seconds later, Zane opens the door, and we look at each other for a moment. He’s in jeans and a flannel, and the gold of his wedding ring catches the light. Happy suits him in away that makes me proud. He found what he’d always been searching for—love and happiness.
“Nick.” His voice is neutral.
He’s not surprised. I texted him and let him know I was heading to Colorado for the season.
“Zane.” I try for casual. “You alwaysthisexcited to see me?”
Something in his face shifts. It’s a smile. “Honestly? I halfway expected you to bail on the way to the airport. You weren’t always a flake.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” The admission comes out easier than I thought.
“My manners. Welcome in.” He steps to the side, letting me enter. “Want a beer?”
“Yeah. I’ll have one. Thanks.”
The dark wall is lined with wedding photos of Zane and Autumn laughing, dancing, looking at each other like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. There’s one of my mom and Zane’s dad—our parents—and they’re beaming at the camera. I missed one of the happiest moments of his life, and that hurts.
My eyes slide to the fridge.
Zane pops open two beers and hands me one.
“You look happy,” I say.
“I am,” he tells me. “Life is great.”
I glance down at the label wrapped around the dark bottle and see it’s a local craft beer that probably has an interesting story behind it. We drink in silence for a moment, the kitchen feeling too normal.
“Marriage suits you,” I say, watching him subconsciously twist his wedding ring. “Never pictured you so domesticated.”
“Never pictured you apologizing.” He leans against the counter, smirking. “Guess we’ve both changed.”
“You do have a point …” I trail off. “I have a lot of regrets in life. I’ll never be able to apologize enough.”
