The sunset paints the lake pink.We sip our beers and listen to an osprey’s strident call.The old rope still dangles from a giant tree.In summer, we used to swing on that and hurl ourselves into the water.
Patrick usually came along on those summer trips.I wince.I haven’t thought about him for hours.He’s out of lock-up.His moms and Granddad—and my parents, I guess—are rallying to support him.
Fucking assholes.All of them.
I squeeze my beer bottle, hoping to ground myself with the chill.I hate that my childhood memories are tainted because of not only Patrick, but the rest of the family, too.All those good things we had, lost.Will we recover from this as a family, or will we be splintered forever?
It’s not just Patrick, either.Danica’s still furious with me.Having drinks with her the other night gave me hope, but I know I’m not forgiven.It was a temporary cease-fire, not a full treaty.
Leah nudges my knee with her foot.“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”My voice is gruff.I take a sip of beer to clear it.“I think so, anyway.”
Setting down her bottle, Leah stands up.She swings one leg over mine and climbs into my lap.
My dick is half-hard.She doesn’t have to do anything special for me to feel this way.But she doesn’t rub against me.She holds me, that’s all.My stress and anger and sadness melt away as our breathing and heartbeats sync together.
* * *
Gage
I’ve lived alone for a decade and a half.At no point did I ever feel lonely.
Until now.
Leah’s room is bright with late afternoon sunlight.I sit on the edge of her bed, breathing deeply.Unable to help myself, I lift her pillow to my face.Her sweet, feminine scent fills my nose.
I would give anything to have her back, to make this problem go away.Unfortunately, I can’t meet with Francesca’s team until tomorrow.That leaves me to continue trying Nic’s phone in the hopes she finally responds.
My phone rings, jarring me out of my stillness.I grab blindly for it and answer without looking at the caller ID.
“This is Gage.”
“Hey.”
I drop Leah’s pillow.“Nic.”
Now that I finally have her on the phone, my anger returns full-force.I want to lay into her, rage at her audacity, her poisonous charade, her manipulative campaign against my reputation—and worse, against Leah.
Instead, I grit my teeth and keep my tone light.“Thanks for returning my call.”
“Oh, don’t bullshit me, Gage.I know you’re pissed.”
“Just tell me what you want.You know what I want.”
She laughs.“You’re funny, Gage.”
“I wasn’t joking.”
“You always were a stick in the mud.”Her tone is fond, and she gives a heavy, fake sigh.
There’s some truth to that accusation; I was always more reserved than our friends.Then, after everything imploded, I became even more of a recluse.Is it any surprise?Every aspect of my personality was dissected in the gladiatorial arena of the internet.Every photograph, every interview, every performance—the public consumed it all, twisted it to fit their favorite narrative, and regurgitated it as truth.
My chest feels heavy with old shame.I have to check my impulse to close Leah’s curtains.Nobody is watching, nobody can see in.I’m safe.My only enemy is the woman on the phone.
Exhausted, I ask, “What’s your game, Nic?”
“No game.”Her voice is saccharine.“We made some mistakes long ago, but we were so good together.I want you back.Seeing you at Javi’s funeral, and having drinks with you afterward…it brought up old feelings.”
