“That’s not what you said when we were teens,” I point out with a gentle chuckle. Dad loves River, and did when he was younger too, but he’s always found River rambunctious and wild. I think River reminds Dad of himself in ways that make him uncomfortable. I’ve never pressed why.
“His parents suck.”
“I know.”
“Well, have fun with him. What’re you doing?”
“Never know with River.”
“’Sup, slut!”River shouts as he pulls into the driveway.
Pop sticks his head out from behind the engine of the car he’s working on. “Really, River?”
“Sorry, Mr. James.” River looks admonished, just to wink at me when Pop goes back to the car. “Get in the car, slut,” River whispers this time. I have to fight back my laugh before climbing into his Land Rover. His parents always wanted him to drive something ostentatious and expensive, but River begged for an older Land Rover, and he’s been riding the wave of this car for the past decade.
“Where are we going?”
“Mainland” is all River says before turning up the radio.
His messy black curls blow in the breeze as he puts down the windows. He twists the dial on the radio, and classic rock fills the air. I rest my arm on the window lip and lean my headagainst it, feeling the salty air wash over my face as we take the bridge off the island.
We pull into the parking lot of the tourist trap mini golf we frequented as kids. I snort out a laugh, which earns me a teasing grin from River. My life would’ve been so much easier if we’d been able to fall in love. I wonder where I’d be now if we had. But it never would’ve worked anyway, and life is about moving forward, not going back.
Our shoulders bump as we head toward the ticket stand. The grumpy old man rolls his eyes at the sight of River, which tells me that River still comes for rounds of mini golf without me after all these years. Something about that is familiar and sad all at the same time. We grab our clubs and I pick a lime-green ball, while River picks a hot-pink one.
River drops his ball and makes the shot—a perfect hole in one. “Person with the best score buys dinner?”
I drop my ball and line up, making it just off from the hole. Ugh. He’s going to beat my ass for sure. “Can’t do dinner. Dads are having some neighbor over for Sunday dinner and Dad requested my attendance.”
River pauses for a moment, ball in hand, eyes on me. “Oh yeah?”
That’s his suspicious tone. “Yes?”
“That’ll be fun,” River says, but he draws the word fun out before skipping off toward the next hole. River was one of the few people I remained in touch with when I left Hope Island. It was tough sometimes, because he couldn’t hide his hate of Anthony and I couldn’t hide the fact his hate for Anthony was warranted. I’d had no defense of the man I’d thought I loved. But the good thing about River is that he’s steady and full of love, so I think he always knew I’d come home even when I hadn’t known.
The bright August sun beats down on us, and I feel the sweat under my curls that I’m starting to wish I didn’t have anymore. I brush them out of my eyes, and River sends me one of hiswhat are you gonna do about itlooks.
“How’s the coffee shop doing?”
“I break even,” River says with a careless shrug, which is a defense mechanism. The shop is his pride and joy, the first thing that’s his without his parents’ involvement. Despite their involvement really.
“Hey, so, what do you know about Charles?”
“Charles,” River drawls as if testing the way of the word. “He’s a good guy. All the guys like him.”
“Allthe guys?” I ask.
“You know, Scotty and Orson.”
“Uh-huh.”
River sends me a suspicious look as he makes another hole in one, effectively making me want to give up the charade of even having a shot at winning. “Why did you sayuh-huh?”
“What does Gilbert think?”
“How would I fucking know what Gilbert thinks?” River all but shouts, squaring his shoulders and sending me a lethal glare. “I don’t care what Gilbert thinks.”
“Of course.”
