Teardrop Shot(43)

“There was another guy?”

“I was using him to try to get over the tragic guy.”

“It didn’t work?”

“No.”

“Let me guess. Did you get propositioned by his grandpa?”

“Yes!” I smiled. “You do pay attention to me.”

“It was a shot in the dark.” He was wry now, with a twinge of wariness. “Is this a problem for us?”

“There’s an us?”

He was quiet again. One beat. Then, softer, “I thought there was. A friendship us.”

“Friends.”

“Are we doing it? The talk?” He was grinning. I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t hear it, but I could feel it.

“The talk?” I asked.

“Where we cement an actual friendship, where we move toward giving a shit about each other and have each others’ backs, and it’s not a big deal.”

Friends. For real. “So that means I should stop calling you Reese Forster in my head, huh?”

He snorted. “Oh my God, tell me you don’t do that.”

I laughed. “I don’t. Or I didn’t. Today.”

More laughter. “Fuck. You’re whacked.” A sigh. “So, when are you going to tell me about the ex-ex?”

“Never-never.”

“You’re a different duck, that’s for sure.” He seemed resigned to it.

“I know.”

“But I like that.”

I smiled once again, but just like that, my eyelids were getting heavy. “I know.” The moment had passed. We were back to friendly and comfortable waters.

And I was still buzzed, but now the buzzed had moved to the buzz that makes you want to fall asleep, and fast.

I yawned.

A soft chuckle. “So, do you want me to answer those questions, or is this where we hang up and you pass out on my couch?”

I was nodding off. I yawned again into the phone, “Saftrabels. Congrassuladnsonurwn.”

“Yeah. Okay.” He laughed. “No idea what you just said. Good night, friend. I’ll text you my responses in the morning.”

But I didn’t hear. I was asleep.





Reese: Octopus. BBC says they’re smart. Bears could eat me, so there’s that.

Reese: The point of having the last word is feeling like you won? I don’t know. Conflict should be about resolution, not winning, or so my coach said, but he likes to yell. And get the last word in.

Reese: Makes sense to me, but I have someone to clean my place too.

Reese: Yes. It would have to change it to Warm Terrain and no longer Frozen Tundra.

Reese: Let’s cheer again. Good measure.

Reese: Trust her when she says she’s on birth control.

Reese: Are we talking anal or oral?

Reese: Not a goddamn clue. Let’s make up our own word. That can be called Frozen Tundra instead.

I woke up to his responses, followed by one last one.

Reese: Night.

And then a few new ones that had come in this morning.

Reese: On the bus. Had breakfast. Want our flight number?

Reese: Why are you not answering? Still sleeping or am I getting the last word in?

Reese: Fuck it, woman. Wake up. I’m bored. Send me new questions.

I laughed, rolling over, still on his couch, and typed back.

Me: I slept in. Awake now. Are you in the air?

I sent my response an hour after his last one, and when he didn’t buzz back right away, I left my phone on the couch and got up for the day. After showering and dressing, I was heading out when my phone buzzed.

Trent: I’m coming back this week. The team canceled their last couple days, so I have free time. Want to do something fun? I’ve got nothing planned.

I frowned and called him.

“You’re not with Owen and Hadley, are you?” he answered.

I needed to check on my fishing cabin, so I was heading that way. “No. Why?”

“Because I sent them texts too. What are you up to?”

“I’m heading to my cabin right now. What were you saying about canceling or something?”

“Yeah. I was scheduled to come in for a last motivational talk for them at the end of the week, but they’ve been changing the days a lot lately. The last change came in this morning. In three days they’re done at camp.”

“They’re done?”

Reese hadn’t said a word.

“Yeah, but the reason I texted is because I had them scheduled for later in the week. My manager moved things around in my schedule, but I still have those days off. So now, after flying in and doing their speech, I have four days clear. You want to do something?” He paused. “Hold on.” His phone buzzed.

A second later, he came back on. “Uh, what’s going on with you and Reese Forster?”

I stopped mid-stride. I was between the last cabin in Reese’s village and my fishing cabin, a good five hundred feet ahead.

My stomach clenched. “Uh, what do you mean?”

And did his voice have a certain disapproval in it? Flashbacks of my father came to me. He’d tried to get me to leave Damian years before I did.

“I just got a text from Owen. They have time off from Keith, but he didn’t know if you’d be able to or not. Something about being busy with Forster?”