“Thinking about it,” he replied once he finished his bite. “It’s easy living at home right now. Plus, I’m at the barn most of the day, so I doubt I’m too much of an inconvenience to Dad. Maybe in the next few months, once I get things up and running.”
We ate for a few minutes in silence, the last of the tables in the restaurant filling with customers.
“Are you going to call Aria?”
Nox looked at me. “No,” he answered quickly.
“Why not?”
I couldn’t tell if he hesitated or not. “Because I don’t need a realtor to find an apartment,” he said, shrugging off the question.
“I know, but she’s just getting started, and she’s Andre’s sister. It would be good experience for her.”
Nox shoved the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth and then licked his fingers clean. “I’ll think about it,” he finally saidbegrudgingly, like we were talking about a stranger and not his good friend’s little sister.
“All right, boys.” The waitress returned then, taking away our empty plates. “Thoughts on dessert? We’ve got some blueberry cobbler made with blueberries from your dad’s farm.”
Shit.
“How can we say no to that?” Nox grinned at her. “Two, please.”
“And one to go,” I added before she walked away.
Nox stared at me for a long second before giving his head a slow shake and uttering a low laugh. I didn’t need to ask why he was laughing. Just like he didn’t need to ask who the third piece of cobbler was for.
“And you wonder why I don’t feel bad for you,old sport,” he finally spoke again after dessert was brought to our table. “Beating on, boat against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”
“You have the whole book memorized?” I muttered and stabbed my fork into the cobbler.
“You forget how the story ends?” he countered.
I took a bite and then replied, “I’m not Gatsby, and this isn’t a tragedy.” Though I was already imagining the sounds Daisy would make when she tasted this.And how uncomfortable my pants would be.I was already hard from the fantasy.
Nox scoffed, but without malice. “What else do you call wanting something that you can’t have?”
Problem solved.
I stared at the takeaway container in my hands. I shouldn’t have ordered it. I should just take it back to the house for Dad. Or Harper. Hell, I should just throw it away and forget the six bucks and the whole idea. Instead, I watched myself tap on Daisy’s name on my phone.
I didn’t like how we left things earlier. How all she wanted to do was get back to work and pretend like she wasn’t worried and hurting, and how I’d gone along with it. I wanted to find a way to fix it—needed to find a way, really. And this blueberry cobbler was my ticket in the door.
“Hi, you’ve reached Daisy Turner. I’m sorry I missed your call…”
I pulled my phone back and looked at the screen. Why did it go straight to voicemail? Weird. Probably a fluke. I ended the call and then tapped on her name again.
“Hi, you’ve reached Daisy Turner?—”
“What the hell…” My jaw locked as I opened up our text thread and tapped out a message.
Hey, are you okay?
Sending…Sending…Message cannot be delivered.
Ice-cold dread dripped into my veins. Something was wrong. Not answering was one thing, but not even ringing? Unable to deliver the message?
I hit the gas and ignored every speed limit to get back to Stonebar—to get back to her.
What if something happened?
