Page 11 of Seale the Deal

A sudden thump of footsteps cuts through Wrenley’s freak-out, followed by the front door swinging open hard enough to slam into the wall.

Jesus! I immediately walk over to make sure my sister hasn’t dented my wall.

Wrenley? Remi’s eyes are wild as she rushes inside, phone still clutched in one hand. There was screaming, and then I looked up and saw Ruger carrying you into the house like a caveman, and I thought maybe he had it handled, but then there was more screaming and— Are you okay? Are you bleeding?

I’m not bleeding, Wrenley reassures her friend, then gestures at me. I was, however, relocated against my will.

A second ago, you were saying that you were being attacked by bats. Wouldn’t that mean I was saving you? I try to defend myself.

Remi looks between us. All that was over a few… bats?

Bats suck blood!

Not the ones here, Remi says, and I can tell she’s trying to hold back laughter.

And how do we know that? she asks.

Remi raises a brow. They’re little brown bats, Wren. Basically, the golden retrievers of the bat world.

Told you you weren’t under attack, I say and instantly regret it when both women seemingly turn on me.

And you. My sister points a finger at me. You thought the best course of action to save my best friend was to manhandle her and treat her like a sack of flour?

She was flailing like a Muppet having a nervous breakdown. I was trying to help.

You could have helped by using your words. You know, explaining that the bats are just harmless, mosquito-eating, cute little freeloaders who live in your yard.

Wrenley raises a finger. Question, why do you let Satan’s moths live in your yard?

I shrug. What Remi basically said. Mosquito control.

Remi nods. Yeah, they eat something like a thousand bugs a night. They’re like nature’s exterminators.

Wrenley narrows her eyes at us. They didn’t look cute dive-bombing my head.

I shake my head. That’s not what happened.

She glares. I hope you get pooped on.

Remi coughs into her hand, trying not to laugh. Okay, okay. Let’s move away from bat topics.

I can’t think of a more unfortunate way to re-meet my future wife than watching her nearly send herself into cardiac arrest over my bat boxes. Which, for the record, everyone should own. They’re cheap, easy to build, and natural mosquito control. I made mine out of leftover scrap wood in a few hours.

So… Remi does a little spin, then gestures to my small entrance. How do you like your new home?

Wrenley turns slowly, taking it all in.

The entryway is narrow, more like a hallway than a room, with a worn staircase tucked to the left side. Through one archway is my modest kitchen, which is dated, to put it kindly. Through another small archway to the right is my living room. My two mismatched couches are partially visible.

The floor creaks beneath her boots. The walls are nicked and smudged in a way that says this house has been lived in. It’s not picture-perfect, but it’s home. At the end of the day, I love coming back to it.

It’s nice, she finally says, and I let out a breath, like knowing she’s okay with my place somehow makes a difference in this arrangement.

I drag a hand down my face, still watching her as she cranes her neck to peer into the living room, like she’s bracing for a skulk of foxes to be playing poker in there.

It’s not like I’m dying to share my space with someone who screams like she’s in a horror movie over a few bats, but I said yes. I’d like to pretend it’s because I’m sick of the town asking when I’m finally going to settle down, and sure, I heard it more than any man should. But I don’t care what the town thinks. Alpine Harbor could hold a weekly town meeting titled Why Ruger Seale Needs to Get His Shit Together, and I still wouldn’t lose sleep over it.

While everyone here seems deeply invested in my future, they conveniently forget I came home on the heels of a breakup. She wanted to be on Broadway, to still be awake at three in the morning eating pizza on crowded sidewalks. I wanted the exact opposite. I wanted to wake up and drink my coffee in silence. I wanted to know the faces I saw in the grocery store. I wanted to walk outside, up a mountain, and back down it before dinner and never see another soul.