Page 6 of It’s Only Love

I sigh, regretting that I couldn’t, just for once, remember my goddamn lunch box.

I don’t want to have this conversation with Mom again.

It’s exhausting. “I don’t. Den’s got his own friends.

We just go hiking sometimes. Besides, I don’t mind hanging out with him.

He’s fun.” He is. There’s never a dull moment around Den.

At the same time, he doesn’t want anything from me.

He doesn’t demand that I hold a conversation I don’t feel like having.

If we feel like being quiet on our hikes, we’re quiet. No questions asked.

“I know, Michael. I just wish you had more friends your own age. What happens when Dennis goes off to school?” Her words stir something inside me—a heaviness in my gut—but I shrug it off.

He’s only fifteen. But with Aaron already gone, Dennis will eventually leave too.

The Holbrook brothers have always been motivated and driven.

Cannon Beach would be wasted on Dennis .

“Then he goes off to school. Look, Mom, I’ve gotta go, okay?” I don’t miss the sadness pooling in her eyes. Fuck. I remind myself that she just doesn’t want me to be lonely.

“Sweetie, you don’t have to pretend with me. I know losing your dad at such an early age did—”

“Jeez, Mom! Will you lay off? This has nothing to do with Dad,” I snap.

I run my hands over my face and breathe through my frustration, regretting my tone.

I slide my hands through my outgrown hair, tucking it behind my ears.

“Aside from the fact that I’m now officially late, I’m fine.

” I attempt a smile to show I’m not mad at her.

I could never be angry at Mom for caring about me.

I just wish she’d leave it alone. My life is fine just as it is.

She smiles back, but there’s still a hint of sadness to it. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I know you do.” I lean in and give her a quick hug. “Now, go get someone to take care of those tiles, or I will.” I press a quick kiss against her cheek, the familiar scent of Nivea surrounding me.

“Right, right. I will.” She sighs, taking a step back, making room for me to get in the truck. “So, you’ll be home for dinner?”

“What are we having?”

“Roasted chicken.” She throws me a knowing look. Roasted chicken is Mom’s ultimate weapon if she wants me to be home for dinner instead of eating out with Dennis.

I grin at her, reaching to close the car door. “Do you even have to ask?”

“Michael!” She stops me, shaking her head. Then she reaches for something on the roof of my truck. “Jesus, sweet summer child,” she muses, as she hands me my lunchbox and thermos, which I left on the roof. Right.

“I’m not a summer child. ”

“You are to me. Now, please drive safely.” Then, she closes the door and steps back from the truck. Placing my stuff on the seat next to me, I start the engine, giving Mom a last wave through the window. As always, she waves back.

When I park my truck in front of Mrs. Lennox’s bungalow ten minutes later, the company van is already there, so I hurry to the backyard to get started.

In the back, Jon is explaining something to Mrs. Lennox, pointing to the shed, while Wayne, his second-in-command for the past twelve years, inspects the large fir before preparing his chainsaw and putting on his safety gear.

“Mike, there you are!” Jon tips his chin at me. I jog toward him while adjusting my safety helmet.

“Sorry I’m late, Jon,” I say before offering Mrs. Lennox a quick nod. “Morning, ma’am.”

“You’re good, kid. We’re just getting started.

” He blows on the cup of coffee he’s cradling in his hands.

Mornings are still cold this time of year, especially when a strong wind blows in from the Pacific, just like today.

I’m dressed for the weather with a wool sweater under my green fleece vest, a soft beanie under my helmet, and my gloves tucked in my side pockets.

Mrs. Lennox nods toward the house. “There’s fresh coffee in the kitchen, Michael. Sorry to bring you boys out here on a Saturday, but since they’ve predicted rain, I’m worried about the shed.”

“No worries, ma’am.” I smile, eyeing the shed that looks just about ready to collapse on one side.

“That’s what we’re here for.” Jon grins at me with the usual fondness in his eyes.

I know how much it means to him that I’m working full time for him now.

I think he figured out early on that his sons wouldn’t carry on his business, but he’s not the kind of father who would ever cause them any grief over it.

Just like Dad. My chest tightens, although the pain that still inhabits my heart occasionally has grown duller and less raw than it used to be.

Finishing his coffee in one go, Jon reaches out and raps his fist twice against the front of my helmet like he always does before we get started. I don’t know why he does it, but it’s become a ritual of his, and if he forgot one day, I’d expect the world to stop spinning suddenly.

For the next hour and a half, we work efficiently and with focus.

Wayne is carving the tree into smaller chunks, which we can later load onto the large company trailer.

Mrs. Lennox wants to sell most of the wood and keep only a small portion for her fireplace, so we’ve agreed to facilitate that for her.

Jon and I quickly inspected the shed, and even without exchanging a word, I knew we were both thinking the same thing.

The shed needs to go. After breaking the news to Mrs. Lennox, we started emptying the shed, which turned out to be every hoarder’s wet dream.

As I’m moving two large boxes of gardening tools toward the porch, I hear loud chatter and laughter coming from the kitchen window. I immediately recognize the voice and the eager speed with which he speaks when he’s excited about something. It’s so distinct and familiar to me.

“I kid you not, Mrs. Lennox. There he was, right in front of me on the path. A northern alligator lizard. He was just sitting there, staring right at me. God, he was a cool color, too. Never seen one like it. He was this dark brownish-orange color. I’ve got no idea what he was doing there since they hang out in the woods more.

Maybe something spooked him.” I can’t help smiling because this is just so typically Dennis, Cannon Beach’s own version of Steve Irwin, and he’s about as excited as he was when he retells his adventures.

The next part is typically him, too. “Since it’s still cold out, he’s supposed to be hibernating, so I picked him up and put him in my truck.

I’ll take him to the woods so he can find a place to rest until it gets warm again. Do you want to see him?”

Jesus, Den .

“No, no, I’m quite all right, young man,” Mrs. Lennox rushes out.

“He’s so cool,” Dennis muses.

“I’ll take your word for it, Dennis. Your, ah, father is in the back.”

“Oh, cool. Thanks, Mrs. Lennox.”

Soon, he comes bolting out the back door, a cardboard box clutched in his hands. His brown hair is tamed under a gray beanie, his brown eyes sparkling in the midmorning sun as he comes down the steps and heads in my direction.

“Hi, Mike!” His entire face splits into a broad smile that could outshine the sun on even the hottest day in July.

It’s contagious as fuck, and I feel my lips instinctively separating as I smile back at him.

He stops in front of me, tilting his head, bouncing on his feet. “Guess what happened today?”

“I heard.” I nod at the open window, and he blushes. “A northern alligator lizard, huh? Impressive.”

“I know!” He looks just about to burst. Then his face softens, his dark eyelashes fluttering slightly. “He’s so beautiful, Mike. Just perfect.”

“Can’t wait to see him, Den. I’ll look before you take him back to the woods.

” I reach out and squeeze his shoulder, leaving my hand there for a few seconds before pulling back.

Then I nod at the box, bearing the familiar logo of Janet Sparks’ bakery, Cannon Cakes & Coffee , adorning the top. “What’s that?”

He grins broadly at me again. “Oh, I totally forgot. I brought you some goodies from Janet’s. Figured you’d be starving by now. ”

“I could eat.” I reach out and tip the lid open, the scent of buttery goodness wafting toward me, making my mouth water. Although I don’t have a sweet tooth like Dennis, I do love pastries.

I raise a brow at him, unable to stop the smile that’s spreading from the corner of my mouth to the rest of my face. “Raspberry and cream puffs?”

A pink blush creeps along his cheeks. “There was a special offer,” he mumbles, shrugging as if it’s no big deal. He’s such a liar. Janet Sparks is a cheapskate, and she would rather close down her business than have an offer.

“Really? An offer , huh?” I can’t help teasing him.

He gulps, avoiding my gaze. “Yep.”

To put him out of his misery, because I know he got them for me, I say, “They’re my favorites.” I reach inside the box and pull one out.

“I know!” He blurts, then looks at me wide-eyed and mortified. “I mean…”

“Thanks, squirt.” I wink, then bite into the fresh crust, raspberries and cream melting on my tongue.

I close my eyes, savoring the flavors as I try to bite back a moan, but they’re just too yummy.

Dennis coughs, and I open my eyes to find him staring at my lips before his face bursts with patches of red.

“Did you just come by to feed Mike, or are there some in there for the rest of us?” Wayne yells from behind me, and suddenly, Dennis looks like he’s ready to crawl into a hole, just like I was earlier after talking to Mom.

“ Ha, ha . Very funny,” he shoots back as he moves past me, heading straight for his dad. When he’s halfway across the lawn, he turns around, his brown eyes locking onto mine. “Hey, are we still on for tonight?”

A strange feeling moves through my chest as I take in his hopeful face. Rubbing a hand against my fleece vest, I head toward him. “I can’t, Den. Sorry. Mom’s making roasted chicken, and I promised I’d be home.”

“Oh.” His smile fades momentarily, a trace of disappointment in his eyes.

I know he was looking forward to tonight.

I was, too. Saturdays at the diner and then maybe catching a movie afterward have kind of become our thing.

I’ve never really thought of it as more than that before, but come Saturday night, there’s no place I’d rather be than with Dennis.

I don’t know what that says about me, an eighteen-year-old guy, becoming best friends with a fifteen-year-old since Aaron left. But I have, and I like it that way.

“Come over,” I blurt. “For dinner, I mean. We can play cards with Mom afterwards.”

He perks up. “Yeah?”

“Sure. Why not, squirt?” I grin at him when he winces. He hates it when I call him that, but I just can’t help it. He’s squirt to me. Always was. “It’s my time to kick your ass, anyway.”

“Dream on.” He tilts his chin at me in challenge. “You’ll never kick my ass at anything, Mike Tanner.” Then he turns and jogs toward his dad. He’s probably right, though. That kid is too smart for his own good.

“Be there at six, Den,” I yell after him.

He nods back eagerly. “You got it!”

My phone pings in my side pocket, and I pull it out, noticing a text from Mom. When I open it, I can’t help but groan because, of course, she couldn’t let it go.

Mom: 503-929-500. Call Brenda!

I shake my head, but my chest fills with warmth.

As nagging and relentless as my mom is, I’m glad to have this version of her back instead of the catatonic shell of a woman who barely spoke a word to me.

Moving my fingers across my phone, I type out five words I’ll never take for granted as long as I can tell her.

Me: I love you, too, Mom.