The Lost Fisherman (Fisherman #2)(78)

I nodded. “Give me twenty minutes to shower and I’ll go with you.”

Her nose wrinkled. “We can’t buy things for you when you’re with us.”

“Fine. I’ll stay here and watch movies.”

“Now, that’s a great idea. You’ve been working a ton of hours. It’s about time you just relax.”

I handed her a fake smile and even faker enthusiasm. She rolled her eyes. “See you in a few hours.”

After she left, I grabbed a shower, dried my hair, and dressed in my comfiest sweats and fitted long-sleeved tee.

Fuzzy socks.

Hot chocolate.

Netflix.

Halfway through the first movie, a sappy love story, and drunk on chocolate and spray whipped topping, I brought up my messages, specifically my texts with Fisher. And I typed a message.

It was you, my lost Fisher Mann. I loved you. And you loved me. Just wanted you to know that in case you never remember. It was messy, but we were real.





I stared at the message and thought of all the reasons to send it. Then I thought of all the reasons not to send it. Then I pressed send because my heart needed more closure than leaving his truck and telling him I would never regret not giving him my virginity.

After all, he most likely took Angie’s years ago, and where did that get her? Them?

I felt like the note he wrote in his graduation card to me was his way of getting closure. Five years after the fact, but clearly it was something he needed to say to move on and marry Angie.

But I didn’t want to be engaged to another man and suddenly feeling unsettled emotions for Fisher. I wanted closure before I moved on.

Fisher: I know.





I know? Really? That was his reply? It seemed … well, a little arrogant. Like … of course I loved him?

I started to send another message but I had no idea what it needed to say. What was the comeback to “I know?” If I was looking for closure, then I got it. I said what I needed to say, and it shouldn’t have mattered whether he responded or not. Yet there I was with a frown on my face, feeling like it did matter.

Taking a deep breath, I let it go. That was all I could do. Just let it go. Accept the closure. After all, I clearly wanted him to know since I sent him the message. So what was the big deal with him replying with “I know?”

Maybe I should have replied with an “Okay. Great. Just making sure. So … nice knowing ya. Have a good life.”

I continued playing the movie for all of two, maybe three minutes, before I shot to my feet. Grabbed my keys, jacket, boots, and marched to my car. It took me less than two minutes to get to Fisher’s house.

Knocking on his front door several times, I hugged my arms to my chest. The door opened. “What exactly does—” I bit my tongue and my face morphed into a constipated feeling smile. “Hi,” I said to the stranger opening Fisher’s door.

“Hey. Can I help you?”

“I … um … was looking for Fisher. But I’ll come back later.”

“He’s downstairs. We’re playing pool. I just happened to be up here grabbing more beer, so I answered the door. Come in.”

I shook my head. “No. I’m fine. I’ll come back.” I started to back away from the blond dude with dimples and an overly friendly grin.

“Did someone knock at the door?” Fisher popped his head around the corner from the top of the stairs.

“You have company, I think. The more the merrier. But she’s a little skittish.” Blond dude chuckled, patting Fisher on the shoulder and disappearing to the kitchen and probably the basement.

“Speaking of company, I didn’t know you had company. I’m leaving.” I turned.

“Reese, you can come in.”

“Nope. I’m good.”

“Did you need something?”

“Nope.” I got to my car but the door was locked. I didn’t remember locking the door. And I also didn’t remove my keys from the ignition.

It beeped. How did I not hear it beeping? Oh, that’s right, I was on a mission until Dimples ruined it.

“Reese …”

“Nope.” I needed another word, but suddenly it hurt to be so close to him. Suddenly I wasn’t okay with us being over no matter how much closure I tried to get from him.

I started down the sidewalk, heading home to get the spare set of keys to my car.

“Reese …” Fisher was closing in on me, so I took off running. “Jesus … what … why are you always running from me?” He chased me down the sidewalk, but I wasn’t that fast in my snow boots.

Before I could turn the corner, his hand grabbed the back of my jacket. I stopped and wriggled out of his hold, turning toward him, breathless and a little rabid.

“I’m always running from you because you are the worst, Fisher Mann. The. Worst. You make it impossible to love you and just as impossible to not love you. But the worst part is you make it impossible to be with you. And you just … let me go. All the freaking time. And you go off to Costa Rica and screw around with Angie and sleep in the same bed and do god knows what else with her. Then you again let me get out of your truck that morning after coffee and you. Let. Me. Go.

“AND I had to find out from Angie that you broke things off with her. Why? Why did I hear it from her and not you? So you don’t want to be with me. Fine. But have the decency to say something. Don’t be an arrogant jerk who says ‘I know’ when I get the nerve to message you about how I loved you. So yeah … I’m running from you because you are bad for me. And I should have known it years ago. But more than any of that…” I turned and tucked my cold hands into my pockets as I continued trekking toward my house “…I’m running away from you because I locked my fucking keys in the car.”