I head in the direction where Matt and Brecken are working on the fire, but they already have it in pretty good control. “Too much piping hot oil combined with a frozen bird doesn’t always end well,” Matt deduces as I get closer. Once the fire is under control, we walk back over to where Junior and Jason are standing.
“My gut feeling is, Silvie meant you should try substituting ground turkey for red meat. Chicken is fine. Not so good for you when it’s fried,” Jason tells him.
“Neither is turkey when you practically set your place on fire,” Brecken mutters.
“Turkey instead of beef? That girl’s lost her mind.” He turns in the direction of the cows on his farm and extends his arm Vanna White style. “Does she think these heifers are a photo op?” He shakes his head. “They’re dinner.”
Good lord.
An hour later, we’d packed up everything and headed back to the station, all shaking our heads at the type of calls we deal with.
“Don’t get me wrong, I love Sycamore Mountain. The people here though… well, they’re a special breed,” Jason mocks.
“An inbreed,” Matt adds.
“Isn’t Junior married to that pretty, sweet blonde lady? What’s her name? Shelly?”
“Yeah. They’ve been married for like thirty years,” Jason says.
“How the hell does a guy like that end up with a nice, normal lady like Shelly?” Matt chuckles.
“They both grew up here. And unless you missed it, there’s not a lot of options in this town for mates.” Jason shakes his head. “Why do you think all of us met our wives elsewhere? Well, except Addison. But hell. She probably put us in the same category with Junior.”
“You better watch out, Smoke. You could end up with the female equivalent of Junior. Or Earl.” Brecken throws his head back in laughter just in time for Jason to smack him on the back of the head. “Hell. You guys are going to give me a brain injury.”
“Too late,” the three of us announce in unison.
“Don’t have to worry about me. I have no interest in the institution of marriage. I’m fine just as I am.”
“Oh, yeah?” Matt whispers after the other two have moved out of earshot. “Because Ellie and I were talking about driving down to Candy Cane Key over one of our long breaks from work. Figured it might be the last chance to do it before she’s too uncomfortable to travel, carrying twins and all. Didn’t know if you might be interested in tagging along?” My ears prickle at the thought, knowing full well that’s where Char lives.
Fine, just as you are, right?
CHAPTER NINETEEN
DAVE
The humof the highway fades beneath the soft sound of the radio and the occasional bursts of laughter from the front seat. Matt is driving, his arm draped out the window, the salt-tinged breeze tossing his hair like he belongs here every bit as much as in Sycamore Mountain. Ellie rides shotgun, humming along to “Lonely Road” by mgk & Jelly Roll as it pours from the speakers.
Me? Well, I’m in the back, watching the world turn from pine trees to palms. The road signs start flashing words like “Paradise Shores” and “Saltwater Cafe” and I realize we’ve got to be close now.
It’s not my first trip to the Florida Keys, but it feels different this time. Maybe because we’re staying with Matt’s brother, Harrison. The man’s built himself a life most people only dream about. He has a sprawling oceanfront home with wraparound decks, floor-to-ceiling windows, and enough salt air to keep you invigorated for whatever comes your way.At least, I hope so.
When we pull into the drive, Harrison’s already outside, waving. He’s tall, tan, with the same easy grin as Matt. Though there’s something steadier in his eyes. You can tell he’s been through some hard things, yet managed to come out the other side stronger.
I didn’t spend a ton of time with Harrison or his family at the wedding. Hell, I only had one person on my mind that night. But I’ve heard a lot about him from Matt. And I’m grateful for the opportunity to get to know him better over the next few days.
“Hey. Welcome,” he greets.
“Dude. This place is absolutely amazing. Thanks for having me.”
“Yeah. We like it. Glad you could join us. You’re welcomeanytime.” After hugs and backslaps, Harrison shows us around. His stepsons come barreling in from the beach, hair dripping, sand sticking to their shins. They shout about catching hermit crabs before racing past us toward the kitchen.
Harlow, Harrison’s wife, trails behind with a towel and a smile. The kind that makes you believe she was born to anchor this family. Then there are the boys’ dads—yes,plural.Harlow’s ex-husbands apparently spend a fair amount of time here. It’s a modern miracle, this blended bunch, but somehow, it works. They’re all gathered around the grill later, teasing each other like brothers, laughing in the kind of harmony most families would give anything to have. I stand there, paper plate in hand, soaking it in.
Watching this family co-exist, I start to think maybe, just maybe, if they can find a way to make this work, anything is possible. Even for a cynical guy like me.
After dinner, once everyone has left the pool and retreated inside around the television, I wander down to the lower deck overlooking the water, marveling at the sky streaked orange and pink. Harrison joins me, hands in his pockets, his expression thoughtful. He starts to speak, but our quiet moment is quickly thwarted as his youngest, Alec, runs up the stairs, then abruptly stops once he sees us.
