Yesterday, there was nothing in the clearing.
Today, there’s a net. Not a volleyball regulation net but a couple of feet shorter.
Gripping the handle of my mug, I saunter toward him. “Badminton?”
“Yeah, I think so,” he replies, still staring.
“Did you set that up?”
“No. Henry must have done it when we were asleep.”
“Okay, I’m about to put forth a hypothesis, and I need you to seriously consider it.” I purse my lips for a moment. “Do you think Houseman Henry might be one of the Tahoe ghosts?”
“No,” Wyatt says.
“You didn’t even consider it!”
“Because it’s dumb.”
“Here. Hold this.” I hand him my cup and pull up my phone. “I’m texting my dad so he can explain the net.”
Why is there a badminton net outside?
DAD
Oh, we just decided last night. Badminton tourney this summer when we’re all there. Participation mandatory. G’s making up the brackets.
I groan in dismay. “They’re going to force us to participate in a tournament, and there are brackets.”
“Why are there always brackets?” Wyatt sighs.
Did we not learn our lesson from the lawn bowling tournament? You and Dean didn’t speak for weeks afterward.
DAD
Because he’s a fucking cheater.
I’m going now.
I slide my phone in my pocket and give Wyatt a questioning look. “Is there anything else you wanted to discuss?”
“Nah. That was it.” He hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his sweatpants, causing them to dip lower. Oh no. I can see the top of the man vee. It’s too distracting.
I force my gaze upward. “Nothing at all?” I prompt.
“Nope.”
My frustration mounts. Really? We’re just going to ignore it? He defended my honor last night, unbraided my hair like some kind of sexy hairstylist, and almost kissed me. But “nope.” Nothing to see here, folks.
Annoyed, I chug the rest of my coffee. “Okay, great. I’m off then.”
“Wait. Where are you going?” He scrutinizes my attire—bike shorts, rash guard, and cross-trainers—as if noticing for the first time. “Why do you look like you’re about to run a triathlon?”
“I’m going on a hike with the Spencers. They’re picking me up on the dock in ten minutes.”
“I’m sorry—you’re going on a boat ride slash hike with the crazy men in the lake?”
“They’re not crazy.”
