Page 77 of Seale the Deal

Those words seem to jump-start my imagination.

Suddenly, I can picture Wrenley in my bed, curls spread across my pillow, while she laughs at something I said before pulling me down on top of her. Her hands sliding from my neck to my chest, lower and lower. Heat punches through me, and I take a long pull of my beer in an attempt to cool myself down.

Speaking of your fiancée, why didn’t you invite her camping? Brandt asks.

Not really her thing.

I don’t know if that’s actually true, but if the bats were any indication, she’d probably spend the whole night convinced a bear was about to unzip the tent. However, I can’t deny the idea of sharing a tent with Wrenley sounds pretty damn perfect.

Brandt studies me over the rim of his beer. You missing her?

I immediately scoff. It’s one night.

Didn’t answer the question.

I stare back into the fire, watching sparks drift up into the dark. I don’t know how to tell him that my house feels like something is missing when she’s not there without eventually having to look too closely at why.

I’ve gotten used to having her around, I mutter finally. She’s volunteering and spending time with Remi. Don’t get me wrong, I like that she’s finding herself here. I just… I trail off, unsure how to finish the sentence without drawing too many questions. But I quickly realize there’s only one way to finish it: I just didn’t expect to notice this much.

Wasn’t it like this with your ex? he asks. You lived with her.

I open my mouth to say yes, but it gets stuck somewhere between my brain and my tongue.

As I think back, I don’t think that’s true. Sure, I noticed when she wasn’t around, and I missed her, but I never walked into the house and felt like I was suffocating in its silence. I never drove into the wilderness, hoping to clear my head, only to spend the entire damn time thinking about her anyway.

I don’t know, I admit.

Brandt raises an eyebrow. You don’t know?

I shake my head. No.

I feel Brandt’s eyes on me. I take a drink of my beer, trying to keep from looking at him, worried that if I do, something is going to slip out. And that something could tip Brandt off.

Well, maybe you two need to get out of town for a weekend, he says. Go up to Anchorage.

I look at him. To do what?

Have an unreasonable amount of sex without worrying someone’s going to knock on your door, Brandt says.

I shake my head and huff a laugh.

I’m serious. He points his beer at me. Forget the wedding for a couple days. Forget work. Forget all of it. He shrugs. Take her to a fabric store. You said she likes sewing, right? Hell, take her to a movie or a museum or, damn, even a restaurant that doesn’t have porcupine on the menu.

She might like porcupine, I say, realizing it’s one of the few meats I hunt that I haven’t fed her yet and try to remember if I have some in the freezer.

Not the point. Brandt breaks my thoughts.

Then what is?

Brandt looks me dead in the eye. The point is that instead of sitting here with me, missing your girl, you could actually do something about it. He takes a long drink, then with this strange, almost scholarly look in his eyes he adds, The best relationships are built on honest communication. Life gets a lot easier when you stop expecting people to read your mind.

How would you know? You’ve never been in a relationship as long as I’ve known you.

Because every woman I’ve ever dated knew exactly what she was getting into, he says.

And what’s that?

He flashes a grin. A good time and a disappointing future.