Page 40 of From the Wreckage

Everett

The truck rumbles steadily beneath us, the lake flashing in glimpses through the trees as we head toward town. Grayson’s riding shotgun, a folded bill of sale in his hand, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning, even though the boat is mine.

“Hell of a purchase,” he says, giving the paper a little wave. “You’re gonna love it, Everett. Nothing beats a boat on this lake.”

Bri’s pressed between us, her shoulder brushing mine every time the truck hits a bump. It’s a small thing, just fabric on fabric, but it’s torture. Every nerve in my body is wired to her, burning.

“Think of it, Bri,” Grayson goes on, his voice warm with nostalgia. “Early mornings out there with Everett, coffee in hand, fishing poles in the water.” He glances at me.

“Dad,” she groans, dragging out the word. “You’re making it sound like we’re eighty.”

He chuckles, unbothered. “Nah. Just means you’re overdue for some quality time with your old man. You’ll bait your own hook this time, right?”

Color creeps up her cheeks. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, sneaking a glance at me like she’s begging for the seat to swallow her whole. “Maybe.”

I keep my eyes fixed on the road, but a smirk tugs at my mouth. I can only imagine her trying to bait her own hook.

My mind wanders to the younger version of her, perched beside her dad in oversized sunglasses, chin tilted stubbornly as she held her fishing pole. The image guts me. She’s been his whole world. And here I am, stealing glances at her like she’s mine.

Grayson launches into a story about the time she caught her first bass, animated and laughing, and she buries her face in her hands. “Oh my God, stop,” she mutters through her fingers.

“Hey, it was a big deal!” he insists, eyes bright. “She screamed so loud, half the lake thought I’d hooked her by accident. Whole damn place heard it.”

Her laughter spills out despite herself, soft and melodic, and I have to grip the wheel tighter. Because I want that sound in my cabin. In my bed. In my life .

She peeks at me, quick and shy, like she’s checking if I’m laughing, too. Our eyes catch for a half-second too long, and it’s enough to make my chest seize.

“Everett,” Grayson says, dragging me back before I can lose myself in her. “You fish much?”

“Some,” I answer, clearing my throat. “Not lately.”

“Well, we’ll fix that. Once you get this boat on the water, we’ll make a day of it. Me, you, and Bri out there. Right, Bri?”

She fidgets with the hem of her shorts, her cheeks still pink. “Yeah, sure.”

The air is thick with her embarrassment, his cheer, and my guilt. I shouldn’t be here, sitting between a father and daughter who trust me. Who thinks I’m something I’m not.

But when her thigh presses against mine again—just a fraction too long—I know I can’t walk away either.