Page 20 of From the Wreckage

Everett

Grayson’s text comes in just after midnight, once I’m already back home.

Grayson: Thanks again for tonight. I’ll send you the address tomorrow.

I drop onto the couch, still buzzing from too much noise and beer. But it isn’t the band I’m thinking about. It’s her. Always her.

I grab my phone and send her a text.

Me: Just got home. Played pool. Band was loud. Miss you.

Her reply comes quickly.

Brielle: Miss you too. Wish you were here.

We talk until our words blur into yawns. Finally, she sends me a “ goodnight, my savior” text, and I fall asleep with the phone in my hand, dreaming of her smile.

The next day, her text hits me harder than it should.

Brielle: Running errands with Dad. Won’t be able to see you today.

I tell her it’s fine. That I get it. And I do… but it doesn’t stop the restless ache.

I try working on the porch railing, but I can’t focus. I give up and try sanding the shed door. But I can’t concentrate. Finally, I throw a leg over the bike and let the road take me.

I end up in Willow Creek, cruising slowly through the downtown strip. Shops line the street, their windows glinting in the summer sun. That’s when I see a flash of silver in a display case.

A sunflower necklace.

Her favorite. She told me how her dad plants them every year just for her.

I’m off the bike and inside before I can think twice. The clerk boxes it up, and I grab a sunflower gift bag, tissue, and a blank card with a single bloom on the front from the shop next door. I know exactly what I’ll write.

I stop for a coffee, checking my phone. Still no directions from Grayson. Instead, there’s a text from Bri.

Brielle: Hope your day’s going good.

I grin, my thumbs already moving.

Me: Better now. Got you a surprise for the next time I see you.

Brielle: Oh, I’m excited. But mostly I just want to see you.

Me: I always want to see you, angel.

Back home, I shower, then sit at the table with the card in front of me. My pen doesn’t hesitate to write the words that are in my heart.

You’re always on my mind, angel.

I slip the necklace and card into the bag, fold the tissue paper over the top, and sit back with a strange mix of pride and nerves twisting my gut.

My phone buzzes.

Grayson: Here’s the address. Dinner at 6.

I click the message open—and freeze.

The air leaves my lungs. My pulse slams in my ears.

No. No fucking way.

That’s Bri’s address.

For a long minute, I sit there, staring at the screen like maybe I’m reading it wrong. But there’s no mistake.

Grayson’s “kiddo” is Brielle.

I drag a hand through my hair, pacing the kitchen. Every instinct screams not to go. It’s insane. Too dangerous.

But the urge to see her is relentless.

I pull on a black tee, jeans, and boots. My reflection in the mirror looks steady enough, but my chest is a storm.

On the way out, I thumb back a reply.

Me: See you soon.

And then I climb into my truck, the gift bag sitting on the passenger seat, my heart pounding like a war drum the whole way to her cabin.

I leave the gift bag in my truck as I climb out, my eyes on the door. Giving it to her in front of her dad isn’t a good idea.

Blowing out a breath, I bound up the porch steps and ring the doorbell. Seconds later, the front door opens, and Grayson greets me with a wide grin. “Glad you made it, man.”

I nod as I step into the Kincaid cabin. Grayson claps my shoulder like we’ve been friends for years.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” I lie, forcing a smile.

He steers me further inside. “Come on. There are a couple of people I want you to meet.”

A man and woman stand near the couch, drinks in hand. “This is Tom and Anita—friends from town,” Grayson says.

I nod, shaking their hands. “Everett.”

“Nice to meet you,” Anita says warmly.

Tom’s gaze flicks over me, assessing. “Grayson says you’re new in town. We were starting to think no one ever moved out this way unless they were running from something.”

A dry smile curls my lips. “Something like that.”

My eyes snag on the wall behind them. A framed photo hangs above the couch. In it, Grayson has a wide smile on his face, his arm slung around a brunette who glows like summer itself.

Brielle.

The air rushes from my lungs. My palms dampen, and my pulse hammers against my throat like a drum.

Tom and Anita keep talking, their voices little more than background noise. My vision narrows on that picture, staring at the girl I can’t stop thinking about, smiling beside the man who calls her his “kiddo.”

Footsteps echo softly down the hallway, in rhythm with the erratic pounding of my heart. And then Bri rounds the corner.

Her hazel eyes lock with mine. She stops dead in her tracks, the color draining from her face.

The friend beside her doesn’t notice. She grips Bri’s arm, grinning. “Wow. Who’s the hot guy?”

Bri’s head snaps toward her, her glare sharp enough to cut.

Grayson gestures casually. “Come here, Bri. I want you to meet Everett.”

She moves stiffly, but her eyes never leave mine. Each step feels like it’s pulling the ground out from under me.

“Everett,” Grayson says, smiling, oblivious. “This is my daughter, Brielle. Bri, this is my buddy, Everett.”

“We’ve met.” Her lips part. Shock flashes across her face, like the words spilled out before she could stop them.

The room goes still.

Grayson blinks, surprised. “You have?”

Bri’s voice shakes as she blurts, “He’s the guy who helped me after I hit the deer.”