“Been called that a bunch recently,” he jabs, then adds, “No fucks given, though.”
“Good. You deserve it,” I tell him honestly. Without me even knowing it, Evan had struggled so much with self-loathing for so many years. Also without me knowing, it was at the hands of the same man who has been serving me beers all night long.
I always knew there was some falling out they’d had back in high school that put Evan and Gordy at odds with one another. And I caught bits and pieces of it the other night, when they had some epic blowout at a coming-out cookout my parents had for Evan and Brooks—but I still don’t know what sent Gordy into a mental spiral so huge that he had to be carted off by ambulance. I was too busy trying to keep my own shit together, after mine and Sarah’s fight we had the night before.
But regardless of whatever it was between Gordy and Evan, it seems my brother is finally on a path to happiness. While I would have preferred that he stick around Ternbay to help Dad and I out on the boats, he seems to have found a more meaningful passion in helping run a grief camp with Brooks. Good on him, for real. After his wife passed suddenly, a couple of years ago, I felt helpless watching the downward spiral he was on. Miranda’s passing was hard enough. Her and her family have been friends of our families for years, even before she and Ev started dating. It was such a huge loss.
In the wake, Ev and his son, Colton, were at odds with one another for a while there too. I chatted with Brooks a bit at the party, before everything went to hell, and it sounds like Colt and Ev are getting better, though. It’s a bittersweet feeling—watching everything cometogether for him, while everything in my life seems to be falling the fuck apart.
“Gan, are you still there?” Evan’s voice, on the other end of the line, rips me out of my thoughts.
“Yeah,” I sigh.
“It sounds like you’re at Portside. I asked if you were okay to drive.”
“I’ve been nursing the same watered-down beer for over an hour.”
“Gordy behind the bar tonight?”
“Yep.”
“How’s he seem?” Evan asks, surprising the hell out of me. Evan normally would be damning Gordy to hell. It makes me curious, this sudden turnaround. That’s probably because I’m a native Ternbayan, though. It’s practically coded into me to want to know the tea there.
“Acting his normal self,” I reply. “You ever going to tell me what happened Thursday?”
“Not my place,” Evan grunts.
“Not at all vague and unnerving…”
“You’ve got enough on your plate. Be safe, and text me when you get to the apartment. Also, don’t let your girls go rummaging around in Colt’s room, okay? That’s his little sanctuary, or whatever.”
“Look at you loosening the reins a little.” I smirk. Evan’s always been a little too overbearing on his son, in my humble opinion. Total helicopter parent, just like Sarah.
He snorts. “I’m trying, so don’t give me your shit for once in your life.”
“Containing it now,” I snark. “But seriously… Thank you.”
“Mhm,” he hums. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to—”
“Eating ass?” I supply, cutting him off.
“Exactly that,” he snickers, right before the line goes dead.Oof.
Chapter One
Present Day
“Keys. Now,” I bark at Gannett from my place behind the bar, where I’m forever just barely able to keep a harmless enough distance from him. “Or you’re not getting this next round.”
“And if I don’t?” he snaps back incredulously.
God, wouldn’t I love to just punch—or fuck—that sass right out of his mouth. Instead, I roll my eyes. “Taryn calls O’Reilly, and the good deputy will light your way home with the strobes,” I drawl, knowing that my son has a more vested interest in holding onto Portside’s liquor license than I do. “And by home, I mean the nice, cozy cot they have in lockup,” I add with a bite.
Wouldn’t be the first time lately I’ve threatened to send Gannett to spend a night in the drunk tank. I may be the town asshole, but it’s not going to be from letting Wee-Waters plow into some innocent person with his truck. Whether I’m comfortable admitting it or not, I do it as much for their own safety as I do his.
I’ve got a secret soft spot for the annoying fucker; I have for as far back as I can remember.
For years, this asshole and I have had a companionship of sorts based on slinging bullshit back-and-forth at one another. His absurdity grates on my every nerve, but I must get some sort of sick thrill from it, because I continually allow him to antagonize me. Hell, sometimes I even instigate it myself, because getting Wee-Waters wound up is, apparently, one of the few hobbies that keeps my otherwise mundane existence entertaining.
