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“Experience?” Jason said with a smirk.
“Man, I wish I was you. No heartbreak for Jason Mosedale. One goes, here comes another. What’s that song? ‘Thank U, Next.’”
Did Galen really listen to Ariana Grande? The mountain man had all kinds of secrets up his sleeve. But did he really think Jason didn’t feel any pain over a breakup?
Stung, Jason blurted out the truth, which he hadn’t done with anyone since Gretchen got married. “That’s bullshit. I cried real tears when Gretchen left.”
“Tears? Like, out of your eyes?” Galen feathered the paddle to bring them skimming to a stop.
“Yes, jackass. It shook me up. I always figured we’d get married someday, it just never felt like the right day. I haven’t dated anyone since Gretchen left me. I’m…grieving.”
“That’s good.”
“Why is that good?”
“Maybe you’ll start to appreciate how lucky you are when it comes to women,” he said in a gloomy tone.
Poor Galen. He’d been hung up on the same woman for some time now. One of these days maybe he’d ask her out, but none of his buddies wanted to rush him.
“You know, I used to think I was lucky with women, but I was dead wrong. I’m just as single as you are. I lost my longtime girlfriend because I wouldn’t get serious enough to propose. Now I’m Holly’s latest project. She wants me to get the rebound relationship out of the way quickly so I can find the real thing. She keeps bringing up things like family dynamics and psychological blocks. I don’t know where she gets all the therapy shit, I think she sees it on TikTok.”
But Galen wasn’t listening. He was peering over the side of the canoe. “Never mind that, I hope you’re ready to catch your weight in walleye.” He scooted the end of his fishing rod over the edge and dropped the line, and in the next moment, reeled in a squirming, shiny-scaled fish. “‘Thank U, Next!’”
After they’d filled their cooler, Galen and Jason stowed the canoe and roasted two fat trout over a small campfire. They pronounced the summer season officially kicked-off. Then, needing beer, they made their way to Mariano’s Pizza, which had the best price on pitchers. As always, it was crowded with locals and the first summer folk arriving in town.
Jason elbowed his way to the bar and signaled the bartender for a pitcher of beer. He spotted some buddies from the firehouse at a corner table. A friend from high school and his wife were canoodling nearby. A group of crafters held down the large table for their monthly night out on the town. Conor Gault and his new love, Emmaline Curtis, were sharing a pizza with her brother Henry and his new love, Jamilah.
Love was breaking out all over the place. Like chickenpox.
His old trombone teacher waved at him from the bar. With his hands full of pitchers of beer, all he could do was nod back at him. Old Herbert Simonson had been crushed when he’d had to quit the trombone. When he’d found out it was due to a pool room brawl, he’d nearly wept.
Good old Lake Bittersweet. Where everyone knew your name, your romantic history, and your high school misdeeds.
But still, it was his town and he loved every quirky inch of it.
Galen stopped to talk to one of the fish and game guys, so Jason headed for the table where his firehouse buddies were gathered. Halfway there, someone stepped in front of him, causing him to splash beer on their sweater. Her sweater. Kendra.
A shiver swept through him. Hadn’t he just been thinking about that time at the pool hall with Kendra? Weird timing.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to get beer on you.” Droplets glistened on the garnet angora of her turtleneck sweater. She brushed them off briskly and thoroughly. Kendra did everything as well as it could be done. It used to be annoying, but now he simply admired it.
“It was my fault. I wanted to talk to you.”
He looked up in surprise. Kendra Carter was seeking him out? “Are you signing up to play victim again?”
She shuddered. “I think we can all agree it’s best if you find someone else to fake-rescue.” She jerked her thumb at the table of firefighters. In a lower, almost intimate voice, she said, “They actually told me they’d take up a collection to pay me not to do it again.”
He laughed out loud. “That’s bullshit. They’ll spend their money on beer and train with whoever I can get.”
He started to move around her, but she blocked him. “Seriously. I want to talk to you. Can we sit?”
“Uh…” He looked around at the crowded restaurant. The canoodling couple was getting to their feet, still locked in a kiss. He gestured with his head. “Over there?”
Kendra shot off to claim the table. He followed with the pitchers of beer, which looked ridiculously excessive when he set them on the table.
She eyed them curiously as she pulled up a chair. “Big beer drinker? It doesn’t show.”
“Where does he put it?” He mimicked a fawning compliment, making her smile. “They’re for the crew. But depending on what you want to talk to me about, I might need them. Am I in trouble?”
