Page 9 of A Little Luck
“Close, but no cigar. Now back to this situation.” Adam nods to where his middle brother is gazing besottedly at my best friend. “You expected Alex to act likethat?”
“Definitely. Didn’t you see how he was looking at her at Britt’s wedding? When they danced together?”
“They were pretending to be engaged. They fooled us all.”
“I wasn’t fooled. Men are terrible at hiding their feelings.”
As opposed to me, the master.
My therapist says it’s a self-preservation technique, similar to laughing or making jokes when I’m truly terrified.
“Are we?” His eyebrow arches, and so much weight is in his question, I shift uneasily.
He’s so damn gorgeous, and that dimple in his cheek pushes it all over the edge. I’ve allowed myself to thread my fingers in his messy brown hair before. I’ve even allowed a kiss, but it’s playing with fire. I won’t promise him more than I can deliver.
When he left, he was as messed up as me. No explanation—he just showed up at my door the day after I got home from the hospital, telling me he was off for basic training.
I’d set up my little house in the old shack behind the newspaper office, which I’d inherited from Ned Farmer, the longtime publisher of theEureka Gazette.
Without even meeting my eyes, Adam said goodbye, and asked me to send him pictures of Ryan.
“I’m sorry I won’t be here for the big moments.” His voice was rough, and his eyes stayed focused on my chin. “I’d still like to see them, if you’ll think of me every now and then.”
My heart hammered in my chest. “I’ll think of you.”
How could I not?
With that, he turned and walked away, but I kept my promise. I texted him videos of Ryan’s first word, eitherMamaorMartha—Mom thinks he said her name first, even though I never call her Martha.How could he know that word?I’d objected.
I sent him a video of Ryan’s first steps on the front lawn outside the newspaper office. He got the full report of Ryan’s potty-training escapades, including my mother’s instruction to “pee behind a tree” if he couldn’t hold it.
I strongly discouraged that directive. Especially when he started kindergarten, and his teacher sent a note home about it. Mom turned it into some statement on governmental control of our children, but I told her he can’t be whipping it out in public, even if he is only five.
Then Adam came back and got to work. He built houses, started a food bank, organized supply drives for the waterfront ministry…
Alex has grown their family’s distillery so much that all the brothers and their mother are essentially millionaires, but instead of using wealth as an excuse to spend every day on a surfboard like he used to, Adam has become a leader in outreach groups along the coast.
Occasionally, he even flies doctors to Guatemala or Nicaragua to perform cleft palate surgeries for needy children or fit them with prescription glasses, and when he’s not being freaking Jesus, he’s keeping his nieces and nephews, teaching them to do what he does.
I’d say he’s trying to make up for something, but he really seems to enjoy it. He’s trying so hard, and I love the model he’s setting for Ryan.
He’s like a father figure to my son, and my inner voice is cautiously telling my heart to relax, lower the walls. Trust him.
“Is Ryan at my mom’s?” Adam’s voice is lower, and he’s so close, energy seems to move between us with every heartbeat.
“Yeah, Owen said they’re going to sleep outside on the trampoline.”
His head lifts, and he exhales a laugh. “I’m sure Pinky’s there, too.”
“And Crimson.”
Aiden’s son Owen and Ryan are the same age, and they’ve been best friends since they could walk. Alex’s daughter Penelope, nicknamed “Pinky” by her cousin, does her best to keep up with the boys along with her little friend Crimson. She’s undeterred by the fact they’re three years younger than the boys.
“Mom can’t stand an empty house.”
The bartender reappears with our drinks, and Adam passes me a fresh Modelo, taking a long sip of his Corona.
“You clearly got your saintly tendencies from your mom, which is lucky for me.” I tap the neck of my Modelo against his beer. “I can’t afford a babysitter, and I don’t like Ryan spending too much time hearing about the apocalypse and conspiracy theories.”