Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Beau nods from his position on the floor at the back of the helicopter, his arms draped over his knees. “The plane didn’t have a working transponder, so we had no clue where you actually crashed. The sheer area to search was daunting. All we knew was that no one on the coast saw the plane go down, and no ships reported it either. We’ve been working your path every day, all day, but it took us this long to get this far out.”
I glance behind us to the window in the door, watching as the sparkling blue water zooms by below us. All this ocean with no idea where to start.
It’s a miracle we weren’t lost forever.
It’s a miracle we survived as long as we did.
If it weren’t for Henry Callahan and all the things his dad taught him, we sure as hell wouldn’t have. Thank God he’s the man he is.
Thank God he exists.
It almost makes me laugh that there was a time, not that long ago, when I didn’t feel that way. A time when Henry’s very presence was the thing that could send me into a spiral.
A time when I actively wished for the disbandment of the four stooges and, if I’m honest, conspired to make it happen.
The Past
Almost two years ago
Avery
Addy smells like all newborn babies do—like addiction and powder and curdled milk in the folds of their neck—as I cuddle her close to my chest, lifting her up higher every once in a while to kiss her little button nose.
June sits on the rocking chair across from me that Beau moved into the living room at her request, and my brother sets down a duffel bag on a kitchen island stool behind her.
I eye him with unconcealed malice. “I can’t believe you’re fucking leaving my best friend, six weeks after giving birth, to go on a golf trip with your stupid friends. Like, hello? Can you say grow up?”
June laughs, her slightly inflamed face curling up into a smile. “It’s no big deal, Ave. I gave him permission to go.”
“Which was a dumb move on your part. I mean, Juni, this is the time for you to milk it, my God. You just pushed this adorable little bowling ball out of your vageen. The Arby’s Roast Beef will never be the same, and you’re just letting him leave? I could never.”
I look from her back to my brother. “Does she have a fresh mani? A fresh pedi? A massage appointment every week? Do you have daily flower delivery and Starbucks DoorDashes coming every day? Because if not, dear brother, you’re not doing enough.”
June laughs again. “I don’t need my nails done to take care of a baby, Avery. All I’m doing is sitting around the house and soaking it in.”
“And whose fault is that?” I ask, spearing my brother with daggers again. He comes to sit at June’s side, his face now worried.
“Maybe she’s right, Juniper June. It’s only been six weeks. I don’t have to go on this trip,” Beau says, his eyes searching June’s face. “I can stay. The guys will understand. You and Avery could go out to dinner or have a girls’ weekend or something.”
“Yes! That’s a much better idea!” I clap my hands behind Addy’s little baby back, but Juniper cuts me off with an annoyingly diplomatic glare.
“Don’t be silly!” Juniper protests, rolling her eyes. “It’s my fault that I’m just hanging at home because that’s what I want to be doing. I’m soaking in every minute of this maternity leave I can and smelling as much baby skin as possible.”
I smell Addy again and sigh. She does smell good.
“Well, that’s fine. You can hang out and do nothing, but Beau should do the same.” I shrug one nonchalant, I-don’t-care-if-I-just-offended-you shoulder. “What? He can just go on working and galivanting like he pleases because he has a penis? I don’t think so. Drop the dead weight of all three of those friends and be a man, Beau.”
My brother shakes his head, exhaling like he doesn’t have the energy to fight me on this. “They’re not dead weight. They’re good friends.”
I chuff. It’s not that they’re not loyal or trustworthy or occasionally fun, but they’re always around. They practically live in his pocket, like a trio of golden retrievers who refuse to go home.
Things would be a lot easier if they’d just keep to themselves a little more. Then I wouldn’t be tempted to go around kissing some of them all the time.
“Plus, Henry really does need this trip,” Beau continues, his tone a little heavier now, a little quieter. “They just diagnosed his dad with cancer, and it’s…not good.”
My stomach drops.
“Henry’s dad has cancer?” My voice comes out too sharp, my spine snapping straight as a strange, unwelcome pang rolls through me.