Page 42 of Property of Bob

“Very descriptive.”

“Thanks.”

I smiled.

“Didn’t Bob tell you about the place?” Wannabe asked.

My smile slipped.

Pull looked over.

I kept walking. “No.”

Wannabe frowned. “Thought you knew him.”

“I do.”

“But he never told you about Skull Island?” Pull asked.

“We don’t talk much.” That was putting it mildly.

Wannabe opened his mouth and Pull smacked the back of his head. “Ow. What the fuck?”

“Quit asking questions.”

“I asked one,” he grunted.

“You were about to ask another.”

Wannabe rubbed the back of his head. “You don’t know that.”

“I know you.”

I laughed. “Thanks,” I told Pull.

He shrugged. “Wannabe’s still learning when to shut up.”

“Fuck you,” Wannabe muttered.

“See?” Pull pointed at him.

I was grateful Wannabe or Pull didn’t ask anything else.

I didn’t want to explain Ash. I wasn’t even sure I could.

He wasn’t an ex. He wasn’t an old boyfriend. He wasn’t some great love I’d left behind.

He’d been my brother’s friend. Then he’d been something else for one terrible night.

The person who had stepped in. The person I’d never forgotten. That didn’t exactly fit into a neat little explanation.

The parking lot came into view and my RV was right where I’d left it.

Crooked. Dead. Beautiful.

I almost laughed at the amount of relief I felt just seeing the damn thing. “There she is.”

Wannabe looked at it. “That’s yours?”