Jumping back into bed together wouldn’t solve the clashing goals that led to their current mess. Not that he was in any shape to jump. Thirteen days after the collapse, his ribs screamed whenever he coughed, and his broken leg throbbed if he accidentally touched it to the ground. At least he was off the damn painkillers that made him thick-tongued and fuzzy-brained.
Clearer thoughts were also a mixed blessing. On the one hand, he was able to sort through the insurance labyrinth that would ultimately yield a payout big enough to cover half the rebuilding costs.Ifhe stuck with his plans. Should he?
Pretty hard not to see a building collapsing on your head as a sign from the gods or the universe or whatever to retreat from the whole business.
Gus’s ghost was no help—his uncle had well and truly flown the coop. He almost missed those rattling pipes.
And there was no comfort to be found in stilted phone calls with his parents and siblings, who regularly threatened to drag him back “home.” That was a showdown he’d like to see, after Hannah handed Dad his ass during Gus’s memorial.
Whatever Hannah’s thoughts about his next steps, she resolutely stuck to her promise not to interfere.
“C’mon, Han,” he whined from his sickbed. “I’m facing some tough choices. I need someone to talk this through with.”
She shook her head, her ponytail whipping behind her. “Nope. We both know what happened the last time I got involved. Your business, your decisions.”
A rap sounded on the door, and Garrett’s gravelly voice called, “Okay to come in?”
“Yes!” Xander shouted before Hannah could object. “Please, thank you, and hallelujah.”
Garrett climbed aboard, pecked Hannah’s cheek, and handed her an extra-large to-go cup, then slid past her, holding a bulging paper bag.
By the time his cast came off, Xander would need bigger pants. Ever since Hannah gave Trappers Cove her okay, edible offerings had been showing up on their doorstep: Linda Leone’s excellent banana bread, the Delaney sisters’ hippie lentil casserole—surprisingly good despite looking like mud, plus kebabs from Ali Baba’s, chowder from the Salty Dog, dumplings from the Sea Dragon, even a crab and spinach lasagna from Casa Francesca, the swanky Italian restaurant up on the South bluff.
“Can you stay a while, Garrett?” Hannah glanced toward the door, no doubt just as claustrophobic as he was.
“Sure. Mondays are slow, and Tessa’s at the till.”
“Thanks.” She gave him a sweet grin and Xander a sharp look. “Promise me you’ll stay put.”
He spread his hands wide. “Where am I gonna go, beauty?”
She huffed a hank of hair from her forehead, then made her escape.
Garrett perched on the edge of the mattress and opened the bag to reveal an assortment of goodies, including Xander’s favorite apple turnovers. Crumbs be damned, these were too good to resist.
“So…” Garrett scrubbed bony fingers into his close-cropped ginger hair. “You and Hannah—everything okay?”
“Man, I have no idea. She’s so—” He waved a crumb-dusted hand— “stubborn, I guess. She won’t talk much, except to say how sorry she is.”
“And have you forgiven her?”
Xander opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. He had, mostly, but did she know that?
“It’s complicated.”
With an annoying grin, Garrett kicked off his leather high-tops and sat cross-legged on the bed. “Explain.”
Just as obstinate as his pretty roommate, Xander jutted his jaw. “Why?”
“Because I drove all this way with pastries, numbnuts. And you clearly need an ear that isn’t hers.”
“You won’t tell her?”
Garrett mimed zipping his lips.
Xander heaved a dramatic sigh. “You know how sometimes you get a song stuck in your head?”
“Yeah, sure.”
