Page 2 of From the Wreckage

Brielle

The sun is warm on my shoulders as I walk down Main Street. The bag from The Pine & Page swings against my hip, an iced coffee in my other hand.

It’s quiet this time of day, just a few cars rolling through. I step into the crosswalk, glancing at the black truck stopped at the light.

An attractive man with dark hair, piercing eyes, and scruff shadowing a strong jawline stares back at me. He’s definitely not someone I’ve seen before. In a town this small, you notice new faces, even if they are just passing through.

I wonder if that’s what he’s doing. If someone like him moved here, word would’ve spread already. A man that hot would certainly have tongues wagging.

And then I wonder why I’m even thinking about a stranger at all.

I shift my bag higher on my arm and keep walking. I’ve been back in Silverpine for barely a month, and already I’m acting like the nosy people in town who have one eye on everyone else’s business.

The summer air is soft against my skin as I reach my dad’s old truck and climb inside. My phone beeps from the pocket of my purse, and I pull it out. There’s a message from my college roommate, Meghan. She and I have been sharing a small, off-campus apartment for the past two years.

Meghan: Wish you were here.

The text is followed by a photo of her on the beach, surrounded by two of our friends, LeAnn and Julia, and several shirtless guys—including Joey Callahan, the guy I’ve been dating since last fall.

I lean back in the seat, staring at his photo.

It still feels strange that the golden-boy quarterback of the Glen Willow Wolves is interested in me.

He flashed his charming smile at me after the game last November, then walked up to me at a party like I wasn’t just another face in the crowd.

As he flirted with me, charming me with stories about his family, football, and courses, I realized we’re from two different worlds.

He’s the big man on campus, while I’m from a town you can drive through in five minutes.

Yet, somehow, we’ve been dating since, and despite my fears that he’d find someone new this summer, he’s been regularly texting me. He wasn’t thrilled I was leaving Glen Willow for the summer, but I missed my dad, and there’s no way I was going to pass up a chance to go home.

There’s something about the way he’s standing so close to Meghan, his arm casually thrown over her shoulders, that bothers me.

I stuff my phone in the outside pocket of my purse and toss it on the passenger seat. I don’t bother responding to Meghan’s message. Instead, I put the truck in gear and head for home.

The air conditioner blasts on my warm skin, but I crack the window as I turn onto Main Street, letting the fresh air drift in.

My dad’s classic rock station blares from the speakers, and I’m almost ready to change it when “Hysteria” by Def Leppard starts playing.

I crank the volume, tapping my fingers to the beat as the scent of pine and damp moss rolls inside.

I breathe deep, as if I can bottle it and take it back to campus when I return in August. I always miss this place when I’m gone.

One more year, I remind myself. Then you’ll finally have your bachelor’s degree.

I turn onto Pinecrest Drive, and the scent of the forest and wildflowers wafts through the window. I belt out the lyrics as I drive Dad’s old truck.

The miles pass, and before I know it, I’m turning onto Harbor Point Road. Gravel crunches under the tires as I pull up to Dad’s cabin, nestled against the trees on the far side of Silverpine Lake.

The smell of steak hits me before I’ve even killed the engine. I grin, grabbing my things and muttering, “Stubborn man just couldn’t wait,” as I exit the vehicle.

I head around the side of the cabin to the back deck. Dad stands at the grill in his old baseball cap, whistling while the smoke curls in the air.

“Hey, Dad. I’m back.”

He turns to me with a smile. “Hey, kiddo. I started the steaks.”

“Dad,” I groan. “I’m twenty-one. Can you please stop calling me that?” My gaze moves to the grill. “Of course, you started dinner. You couldn’t wait.”

He chuckles. “You’ll always be my kiddo, Bri.” Then he points his spatula at it. “You know me. I have the patience of a saint.”

I roll my eyes, giggling as I climb the three steps to the wooden deck. “Stubborn and impatient. Your two best qualities.” I kiss his cheek, then move toward the door to start the baked potatoes and corn on the cob.

“You know it,” he calls after me. “It’s why you love me.”

“Sure is,” I yell back with a laugh.

I put my bag and purse on the dining room table, then move to the kitchen. As I’m digging out the pot for the corn, I’m still smiling.

It’s good to be home.

Dad and I are still outside, sitting on the back deck while dusk falls over us. Fireflies blink lazily in the yard, the air thick with summer warmth. The smell of the lake drifts up from the dock.

“Glad you’re home, kiddo.” Dad clinks his glass of iced tea against mine before he sighs, his gaze moving to the water. “Summer’s going too fast. I’m gonna dread August.”

“Me, too.” I take a drink, eyeing him over the rim. “As excited as I am for senior year, I’ll miss home.”

“Good ole GWU,” he says with a sigh, his eyes on the dock. “I remember when you didn’t want to go.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want to. I just hated the thought of being away from you.”

His smile fades. “I don’t ever want to hold you back, kiddo. There’s a whole world out there. You have the power to make it better.”

I let the kiddo part slide. “Glad you have so much faith in me.” I set my glass down. “Do you think I’m choosing the right path?”

“Counseling kids? Yeah…” His expression darkens. “You experienced abandonment and divorce, Bri. What your mom did… it left scars. On both of us.” He gives me a look. “You can understand them.”

My breath hitches. He rarely talks about her. Not because he doesn’t care, but because he hates reopening that wound.

I ask before I can stop myself. “You ever wonder where she is?”

“Used to. For a couple of years after she left. Then I realized we were better off.”

Tears sting my eyes. I blink them away. “We are better off. Just you and me.” I hold out my fist.

His smile returns as he bumps it. “You and me, kiddo. Always.”

His words warm my insides, but it’s the fact that he’s backed it up every day of my life since the day she left when I was nine years old that cements it.

Dad’s never been great at being emotional for long, so I tease a smile out of him. “Ugh. I’m an adult.”

“Don’t remind me.” He groans. “The years went fast. Too fast.”

I stand, moving to the part of the deck closest to the dock. We fall into the familiar pattern of telling old stories, our easy laughter filling the air. Fireflies glow at the edge of the yard.

I tilt my head toward the night sky. “Look,” I say, pointing. “It’s the first star of the night.”

My dad’s gaze follows my finger. He smiles, then closes his eyes. “I wish for all my daughter’s dreams to come true.”

“Dad! You’re not supposed to say your wish out loud. It won’t come true.”

Opening his eyes, he shrugs. “That’s just a silly superstition.”

“Like the salamander.”

He grins. “I didn’t want that damn thing living in our house.”

“You told me it would jump down my throat if I opened my mouth. I was terrified.”

He chuckles. “Worked, didn’t it? You let the damn thing go.”

“I wanted it as a pet.”

“We already had one. A dog.”

My smile dims. “Barney,” I sigh, thinking of his long ears that would drag on the grass, his toenails tapping against the wooden floor of the cabin. “Man, I miss those droopy eyes.”

“Me, too. Thought about getting another Basset.”

“You should. Be good company for you.” A smile lights up my face. “And I could spoil him or her rotten.”

“I have no doubt you would.” He goes quiet, staring at the dark lake. The gentle lapping of the waves against the dock is soothing.

“Remember when you fell off the boat last summer trying to see that giant bass?”

A loud burst of laughter spills out, echoing from the woods. “Good times. Maybe I’ll do it again this summer.”

His smile fades. “I don’t know, Bri. That old boat is on its last legs.”

A pang of sadness hits me. “You don’t think you can fix it?”

He shakes his head. “Wouldn’t be worth it. Better to get a new one.”

I sigh, taking in the familiar landscape. Across the lake, a faint porch light glows through the trees. I think I see movement, but it’s gone before I can be sure. Probably just one of the summer renters.

Still… for some reason, I linger on that light a moment longer before turning back to Dad. “I’m gonna miss that old boat.”

He gives me a sympathetic smile and throws an arm around me.

Things change.

But some things, like nights like this, I hope never do.