“Hell yeah, Cap!” Wade lifts his beer as I approach, drawing the attention of everyone in the immediate vicinity. “You made it!”
I don’t check to see if Wren heard his shout or looked over. I’m here … I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t really want to be, but I don’tnotwant to be either.
“Thought you’d show,” Gus says quietly as I take the empty stool beside him.
I shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“Sure.” Gus’s smile is easy. Unencumbered.
I’m envious of that ease, stuck in a state of permanent apprehension.
Gus met a girl he liked, asked her to dinner, and now he’s happily planning their second date. I met a girl I liked, watched while a friend invited her to his party, then flirted with her, and I wound up fucking her in his room, entirely oblivious to the fact that it was her first time. I’m such an asshole. I don’t get why Wren ever wanted a repeat.
“Hey, Cap.” Cammie appears, her boyfriend, Luke, right behind her.
Luke gives me a wave, then starts talking to Wade while Cammie gives me a hug.
“How are you?” she asks, the concern obvious on her face.
“Me? Great. How about you? How’s it going at the hotel?”
Cammie opens her mouth. Closes it. Sighs. “Wren was there for brunch this morning,” she says finally. “I said a few things I probably … shouldn’t have.”
Well, that solves the mystery of where Wren got her information. Although I have no clue how Cammie knew I’d sent Wren letters. I must have left one out in my room or in my truck.
“I didn’t say much,” Cammie continues. “Just suggested she stay away from the marina.”
On my other side, Gus grins.
Cammie glances between us. “She showed up there anyway, didn’t she? Unbelievable.”
“It’s fine, Cammie.”
“You always say it’s fine, Cap. And that you’re fine. Because you drank your way through the worst of it!”
My jaw works a couple of times. “That wasn’t Wren’s fault. I had other shit going on too. I mean it—I’m good now.”
Cammie exhales. “If you say so. It’s not like you ever listen to me anyway.”
“Don’t take it personally. I never listen to anyone.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. It disappears slowly, as she stares at me. “I believe her. I don’t think she got the letters.”
“What letters?” Gus’s nosy ass asks.
I ignore him. “How did you know about those?”
“I saw an envelope addressed to her on your desk one of the nights I drove you home. You had it with you when I ran into you at the post office just before Thanksgiving, remember?”
I don’t remember, but saying so will prove Cammie’s point. That fall is a bit of a black hole in my memory, as I floundered, figuring out what to do with the rest of my life, and mourned losing one of the few peoplewho had any faith I would.
“It doesn’t matter if she got them,” I mutter, glancing toward the back.
A different guy is delivering a glass to Wren. She takes it, flashing a brilliant smile, then turns back to the dark-haired girl she was talking to. The guy turns away, a disappointed look on his face.
I fight a frown, asking Gus, “How long has she been here?”
He shrugs a shoulder. “I texted you when I arrived. She was already here.”
