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He puts his hand on the back of his neck and nods, his chuckle gravelly. “I suck,” he admits. “But in my defense, I’ve been on a boat for ninety-nine percent of the time the past few months.” He puts his hand on my shoulder and gives me a little shake like he always has, but this time it makes my stomach turn upside down again.
I try to breathe through the nausea, thankful he stops the rough-housing, and he gives me a weird look.
We might not see each other much since we both took off as soon as we were old enough, and like he said, he spends most of his time on boats, chartering fishing excursions, but we can pick right up where we leave off every time, no matter what.
“Well, it’s good to see you now,” I manage to say.
“I’ve gotta get to a patient,” Wyatt says. “Running behind this morning, but I’d love to get dinner while you’re here. You staying long?”
“I was hoping maybe a week or two, if my sister will have me,” Logan says.
“Are you kidding? I always want you to stay.”
As soon as Wyatt walks away, I walk around to my seat, and Logan leans his forearms on the reception counter and stares at me.
“You wanna tell me what’s up?”
I roll my eyes. “Not here, not now.”
His eyes narrow on me, and he leans in closer. “The last time you looked green like you do right now was when you told me I was about to be an uncle.”
I glance around, worried someone might hear him, but the coast is clear.
“Holy shit,” he says.
“You’ve got that right.”
CHAPTERFORTY-TWO
HAIR AND OTHER WEIRD VIBES
WYATT
I’ve tried to give Marlow time with her brother, but when days go by and she still hasn’t invited me over, I start taking it personally.
It was my idea to give them time and stay at my place while he’s visiting. When she readily agreed to that plan, I completely understood and was fine about it.
But then I expected an invitation to dinner or, I don’t know, a quick meetup at Sunny Side or something…anything.
If she hadn’t acted unlike herself before he ever got in town, I might not be taking it as seriously, but she did and she still is. At work, she’s been distracted and hasn’t met me for lunch. When I stop by her desk, she acts too busy to talk even when there aren’t any patients around. We’ve texted every day after work and I send memes for Dakota, mostly to let Dakota know I’m thinking about her even when I’m not around.
“Fuck it. Enough of this.” I pick up treats at Happy Cow and knock on Marlow’s door around the time they’re usually getting up on Saturday morning.
Marlow answers the door looking sleepy and gorgeous, her wild bedhead my favorite look on her.
“Hey,” she croaks, her arms wrapping around herself rather than around me.
“Are you sick?” All annoyance fades as I take her in.
There are dark circles around her eyes, and she looks pale.
“I’m okay, just worn out. Haven’t been sleeping great.”
I step closer, intending to hug her, but she takes the pastry box from me, and just in time too, because I’m nearly knocked over by Dakota.
“Wyatt!” she yells, her little arms squeezing me as hard as she can.
“Hey, Sweets. Oh, that’s the best hug. Thank you.”
