Drinking a beer with Luca in Luca’s cabin, though. That always felt good.
He loved the shared taste of it in their mouths.
“All right,” he answered. And then, inexplicably, he said, “Someone new wants to buy the Main Street property.”
Luca turned toward him, quirking a brow. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Some Portlander with pink hair.”
And Luca’s grin deepened, a spark firing in those damn dark eyes as he took a pull from his own can.
“Tell me more, Portlander.”
Dell sighed, heat simmering in his gut at that look. Luca was the only one who got to give him shit about the fact that he was once a Portlander, too, a fact Dell tried to not spread around. Okay, Liv gave him shit for it, too, but—he was never going back, and that was what mattered.
“Fuck you.”
Luca bit the side of his lip.
“You really hate that property.”
“I really, really do.”
“I dunno.” Luca shrugged one shoulder, taking another sip of beer, still grinning. Still giving Dell that look. Luca knew exactly what that look did to him. “Maybe you should just fucking sell it.”
Well, fine. Dell slammed his can on the counter. And for the first time in three months, he grabbed Luca Yaeger by his belt loops and kissed him on the mouth.
three
Her houseplants werewhat did her in.
Mae stared at her favorite pothos, cascading over her favorite (now empty) bookshelf, and picked up her phone.
please come help
Vik texted back immediately.
on my way, sugar
And Mae couldn’t make herself do anything but keep staring at her pothos, sinking, again, into the memory of that last day with Jesus, when they’d spread his ashes in the waves. When they’d laughed at the awkwardness of it; when the wind had whipped her hair as her friends slowly departed. Until it had just been her, and the ocean, and a tiny town Jesus had loved.
Mae had spent the last three weeks boxing up her office and her apartment. Whispering goodbye to her life in Portland, the life she knew she had loved so deeply.
But sometimes, these last few weeks, it felt like she’d never fully left that beach at all.
A knock sounded at the door, startling her back to Southeast Portland and her domain of half-packed boxes: disorienting rooms composed entirely of cardboard and memories.
“Hey.” Vik’s thick brows were furrowed in concern. They stepped forward, wrapping Mae into an embrace, and Mae barely held herself back from kissing their black curls. Vik had always been a hugger, but their squeezes had gotten tighter, more lingering as Mae’s departure date loomed. Mae wanted to write a thank you card for each one. “What’s up?”
“My plants.”
Mae disentangled from Vik’s limbs before tears arrived.
“Goddammit.” Vik released a long sigh, forehead unfurrowing as they understood. “I’ve been dreading this day ever since you sent that damn text.”
“I know,” Mae said, plopping back down on her favorite armchair. “I know. But I can’t take all of them?—”
“Of course you can’t.”
