I hope he sees the message. Who knows how far he’s already roamed, looking for his brother.
I glance up from my phone to find Bailey staring at me demandingly.
“How did you get his number and how is it any of your business? And how do you know Anders? And why do you care about what Jonas is doing? And was that who you were speaking to the other night?” Her eyes are practically bulging out of her head. “Wasit?”
“Calm down. We went into their storm shelter, remember? And I dropped some peaches around for Patrik earlier. Anders was there. We got talking.”
“Is that why you were late?”
“Yes, I’m sorry,” I repeat. “But I was worried about him and his family. I’m kind of like their neighbor now, remember?”
Her face bursts into a grin. “I can’t believe you stayed!”
“I know!” I smile at her, hoping, but also doubting, that that’s the end of the Fredrickson-brothers inquisition. “Come on, let’s get a drink.”
Jonas is still at the bar when we walk through the door. He’s hunched over, his elbows resting on the sticky wooden bar top and his hips jutting out to the side as if he’s either very relaxed or very drunk. I have a strong feeling it’s the latter.
“Hey,” I say, touching his arm.
He lifts his head from where he’s been staring into his glass and looks at me, his navy eyes glazed. I think it takes him a moment to place me, but eventually his face breaks into a sleepy, lopsided smile.
“Hey, Wren!” he slurs.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m good.” He wobbles and puts his hand on the bar to steady himself. It looks as though he’s drinking neat whiskey. “I didn’t recognize you without wet clothes on. And you have your hair up.”
He waggles his finger around in a circle, his eyes roaming around my face.
I never wear my hair up, but I discovered earlier that it’s long enough to scoop into a bun.
Most people get their hair cut when they go through a breakup. I decided to grow mine instead. It still falls shy of my shoulders, but the length is a novelty.
“What’s this about wet clothes?” Bailey interrupts, her sparkling eyes darting between us.
“Wren fell in the river,” Jonas replies, propping up his face with his hand and squishing his cheek into his grin.
“Did you?” Bailey turns to me, eyes in “Boo” mode.
“I’ll tell you about it later,” I reply, directing my next sentence at Jonas. “Anders was looking for you earlier.”
He chuckles and lifts his head. “Anders is always looking for me.”
“He worries about you,” I remind him gently. “He cares.”
Jonas reaches for his drink and looks at Bailey. “You’re Ralph and Sheryl’s daughter, aren’t you?”
“Hi, yes, I’m Bailey.” She grins and offers him her hand.
It takes him a second to respond and when he does, his hand dwarfs hers.
I’m surprised they haven’t already met, but then, it doesn’t sound like he’s been particularly sociable lately.
“What can I get you?” Dirk asks, materializing in front of us.
Jonas is still shaking Bailey’s hand. She doesn’t seem to mind.
“The usual,” Bailey replies as Jonas finally releases his grip.
