Page 83 of Came the Closest
Colton: I thought it through more than I’ve ever thought anything through, and I meant it when I said we’ll talk soon.
Travis: You never use punctuation!
Colton: Consider the 2.0 version of myself to be more grammatically inclined.
Travis: I don’t want a grammatically inclined version of you! I want my client back.
Colton: You won’t get him back because he is no longer. Give me a few days and we’ll talk.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Potato Sack Style
Hazel
Lake town summers come the closest to perfection that one could ask for; southern breezes whispering through weeping willows, dripping mint chip ice cream in waffle cones, damp swimsuits under loose clothes, and grilled food enjoyed around a full table.
This is, of course, my personal opinion on the matter. One not everyone will agree with. But sitting on Sam’s dock while everyone lines up for morning skiing is the epitome of a summer morning. The dock warms my bare legs, the water is cool on my toes, and the endless chatter around me sparks a contented smile.
“To be fair,” Jordan says, one foot propped on the hull of the 1995 Ski Nautique, “Collie hasn’t been working out recently. We don’t even know if he can get his butt out of the water.”
Colton scoffs good-naturedly. “It’s not like I’ve been desk jockeying like you.”
“Well, actually, you have.” Sam straightens in the boat, ski rope in one hand and ski gloves in the other. “At least, when you’re in Omaha during the week.”
Cheyenne raises her hands when Colton looks at her. “Uh-uh. I’m staying out of this one.”
“How about age order?” Sydney suggests. Jordan’s girlfriend thinks nearly as black-and-white as he does, but she still flushes when Jordan drops a kiss on her forehead.
“Aunt Graham and Uncle Ember are here!” Jolene hollers as she runs down the sloped backyard, barefoot, wearing a pink and orange one piece swimsuit. She skids to a stop before the dock and frowns. “Wait. I said that wrong, didn’t I?”
Jordan swings her into his arms. “Unless they exchanged names and vows yesterday, yes. You did.”
“Don’t drop me,” Jolene squeals.
“Yeah, Mr. Muscles,” Colton teases. “Don’t drop Jojo. Unless…”
Nash picks up where Colt left off. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“I do believe I am,” Colton says sagely. Then, in unison with Nash, “Dunk her in!”
“No,” Jolene shrieks.
Jordan marches toward the end of the dock purposefully. “You heard your uncles. In the water you go.”
Jolene clings to her father’s torso with enough strength to turn her knuckles white. I doubt he’ll go through with it, but their interactions surface memories from my own childhood.
Mama, chastising my father from the back porch with a hand embroidered dish towel clasped between her fingers, and Daddy, flashing one of his most charming grins with me latched onto him.
This town and these houses and these docks have been part of me since I was seven years old. They were tucked away during my years in Atlanta, but never forgotten. I believe you cannot forget crucial moments in your life, and many of mine happened here.
Learning how to swim. My thirteenth birthday party, when the floaties blew away before we could use them. Getting my driver’s license. Mine and Sam’s first kiss. Discovering my passion for floral arrangement.
Memories—the smallest and the biggest—all link me back to this magical place.
“Well, well, well.” Colton’s smug voice breaks into my thoughts. “I see that the newlyweds have finally decided to grace us with their presence.” He looks pointedly at his bare wrist. “An hour late?”
Graham rolls his eyes, but for the first time since I met him last year, he can’t seem to stop smiling. Nor can Ember. She’s tucked into her new husband’s side, a pink sundress fluttering around her thighs. I wonder if she picked out the pink, pineapple dotted boardshorts Graham wears with a gray Del Ray Development t-shirt.