“Who’s here?”
“No one.” The lie came too quick. “I turned on the shower to warm up, and Cliff had a hissy fit for his breakfast, so I came out here to fix that and start coffee before I hopped in.”
Cliffhanger, her massive cat, was indeed picking at his breakfast, his tail twitching. But my sister was lying through her teeth, and we both knew it. The shower was still running, and her face was flushed with more than just embarrassment. Some guy was in there, and she was trying to hustle me out before I found out who.
“I’d love to catch up. Why don’t you go grab us a table at the diner or Pie Hard, and I’ll meet you for breakfast after I get dressed?”
I looked her dead in the eye. “Why can’t I just wait here until you’re ready?”
She shifted from foot to foot, practically vibrating with nervous energy. “Because it’s Sunday morning, and you know how crowded everywhere will be. Might as well get in line already. Just text me where you land.”
The protective big brother in me wanted to plant myself on her couch and wait to see which jackass crawled out of her bathroom. But I’d been gone a long time. Maybe too long to still play that role. And whoever was in there had to be someone local she trusted. It wasn’t like Austen to hook up with random guys.
“All right. But I’m heading to Pie Hard.” No way was I setting foot in Kiss My Grits right now. Not until I figured out how to face Pepper.
“Great. I’ll see you there!”
She practically shoved me out the door. I heard the lock click behind me and stood there for a moment, debating. But ultimately, I headed down the stairs. Austen would tell me what was going on when she was ready.
As I headed back the way I’d come, I registered the familiar truck parked in front of the bookstore. Clint’s truck. I could be a coincidence. He lived downtown, too. But something told me it was more than that. Guess we’d see.
I picked up fresh pastries from Pie Hard, enduring all the “Welcome Home,” and “Thank you for your service,” from Lola Taggert, whose baked goods had featured in a considerable portion of our fantasies while we’d been overseas. Then I texted Austen to meet me in the park. It seemed a safer place for a private conversation, considering where I suspected this would go.
The fall morning stretched crisp and clear as I waited on the park bench, watching the leaves dance across the grass. My sister’s footsteps crunched through the scattered foliage. She’d changed into jeans and a cardigan, looking more put together than earlier, but she still had that guilty air about her.
“You’re late.” I held up the Pie Hard bag. “Your pumpkin muffin’s probably cold.”
“Well, if someone had given me a heads up they were coming…” She snatched the bag and dropped onto the bench beside me. “Two months, Rhett. Two months of not knowing if you were okay.”
I focused on my apple turnover. “I was fine.”
“Three surgeries isn’t fine.”
“Two.” I brushed crumbs off my lap. “The second was minor. Just cleaning up some shrapnel.”
“Just some shrapnel?” Her voice went sharp. “Mom’s going to kill you for keeping this from us.”
“Which is exactly why I haven’t been to see them yet.” I leaned back, wincing as my shoulder twinged. “You know how Mom gets.”
“You can’t avoid them forever. The longer you wait, the worse it’s going to be.”
More leaves spiraled down from the maple above us. I wadded up my napkin, buying time. “I know. I just need a minute to figure out how to explain everything.”
“The last two months haven’t been enough time to figure it out?”
“Been a little busy with PT and shit.”
She went quiet, picking at her muffin without really eating it. Something was eating at her, and I had a pretty good idea what—or who—it was. Time to put her out of her misery about that, at least. But first, I needed to explain about that last day. About the pact we’d made. Maybe then she’d understand why I wasn’t going to lose my mind over finding out about her and Clint.
She listened as I told her about that night. About sitting around playing poker, and how we’d all talked about what we wanted from life. About the promise we’d made to stop wasting time once we made it home.
“Does that mean you’re ready to get your head out of your ass and fix things with her?” Austen asked.
I knew she meant Pepper. There’d never been another her for me. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Her eyebrow winged up. “That’s all you’ve got? Maybe? After you just sat here telling me about this big dramatic pact about not wasting time anymore?”
“It’s complicated.” I needed a plan. I couldn’t just march up to Pepper and say I wanted to try again.
