“I’m going to hold you to that, August. Don’t disappoint me or I will track you down.”
“That I believe.” He grinned and relaxed a bit. “What are you doing for the holiday?”
His mother dug in and prattled on about her plans with Doug, the man she’d lived with for the past five years. There would be a regatta and then a barbecue at the club. She told him that Oliver was dropping by for a two-day visit on his way back from Mexico.
“He’s bringing a girl,” she said. “How does he have time for a girl, and you don’t?”
“Okay, I gotta go Mom. I promise I’ll call you within the next few weeks.”
“I don’t want a phone call. I want to see you in person. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for my children to come out and visit me more than twice a year.”
God, she was good with the guilt.
“I promise you’ll see me soon.”
“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” Gone was the teasing tone, and Gus shifted a bit, uncomfortable because lying wasn’t his thing. Especially not to his mother. Until now.
“No,” he replied.
There was quiet for a few seconds and then she said goodbye.
“Fuck.” He tossed his cell and sank back in his seat. Gus felt like an absolute shit. When the hell had his life become so damn complicated?
It was because of the old box he’d found. And not for the first time, he wished he’d left it the hell alone. Maybe then he wouldn’t have looked back. Second guessed.
With a sigh, he slid from the truck and headed toward the treeline. It was a holiday, and the men he hired for the cottage project were off, but a lot of supplies had been delivered the day before, and his plan was to work until early afternoon unloading the skids that had been placed in the first clearing by cottage number one. After that? A cold beer at The Dock.
And Faith.
She was one more layer he hadn’t anticipated when he’d come to Fire Lake, and he was pretty sure that getting involved with a woman like her wasn’t the smartest thing to do. Faith wasn’t a placeholder. Wasn’t that woman a man screwed and then forgot about. She was a mistake he should avoid because Guswasthe guy who dated and dumped when things got serious.
He didn’t have the bandwidth for a relationship.
“Relationship?” he muttered. There was that damn word again.
He reached the edge of the clearing, and with the sun sitting pretty in a robin-egg blue sky, he pulled on his work gloves and got busy. Physical labor was one thing he could count on to clear his mind, and for the next three hours, he lugged sheets of drywall, buckets of joint compound, cans of paint, and lumber. He kept hydrated and ate a few granola bars, but by the time he was done, he was hot and sweaty and figured he’d reward himself with a dip in the lake.
He finished his last water bottle and walked to the nearest dock, then shed his boots, jeans, and T-shirt. His shoulders were tight, and he rotated them a bit. The water glittered like a million diamonds lay beneath the surface, and he figured the parade was over because Fire Lake was coming alive. Boats zoomedback and forth, pulling skiers and tubers, while voices and music echoed across the water as excited kids jumped in the lake and parents relaxed with cold beers and barbecues at the ready.
There was something to be said about a place like this. It was about as far from DC as a man could get, and he wasn’t so sure he was going to be able to go back to that life without checking in here now and again.
Even if he had to come back as Gus, the guy with no last name.
He dove deep. He swam and floated for a good thirty minutes, and when he finally climbed back onto the dock he was refreshed, recharged and hungry as hell. He squeezed the excess water from his boxers as best he could, then pulled his jeans back on. He tied up his boots and grabbed his T-shirt, then turned to the path that led to the main house.
It didn’t take him long to exit the trees, and when he did, he spied a frail form down near the gardens on the far side of the house. It was his father, and he appeared to be alone. Gus took a few more steps toward his truck but stopped and glanced back. It was a bit of a hike from the gardens up to the main house. What if he fell?
He watched Porter for a few seconds, then, with a curse, changed course and strode toward him. He passed a walker near the edge of the deck and didn’t stop until Porter spied him.
His face was gaunt, his hair all but gone, and his eyes seemed to burn right through Gus. It was eighty-five degrees, and he was drowning in an ice-blue wool sweater and thick, gray sweatpants. Gus looked around and wondered where the nurse was.
“Hello,” Porter said. “Surprised to see you today, with it being the Fourth and all.”
“Mr. Boone.”
“Were you at the cottages?”
“I thought I’d get some stuff done before it gets too hot.”
