Page 65 of Seale the Deal

We drive in silence to my sister’s house, where I pull into her driveway.

Thanks, Wrenley says with a smile.

Call if you need a ride after, I say.

Will do.

She closes the door, and I watch her walk to Remi’s door and let herself in. I put my truck in gear and pull out of the driveway to go home, wondering why her plans feel like my loss.

Chapter 10

Ruger

DAYS LEFT ON VISA: 70

Wrenley and Remi ended up going to Alpine Brewing, a local brewery and taphouse, for dinner and drinks—something about wedding planning, though it sounded like more of an excuse to enjoy cheap beer night. Now, the house is a little too quiet.

Less than a month ago, I liked the silence. Looked forward to it, even. A house to myself. A meal pulled from the freezer, no one to ask if they’re okay with what I chose. Just me, a good meal, maybe a beer and a little TV. But tonight, the silence feels lonely.

I stir the elk chili in my bowl, something I made months ago and portioned out because some nights, I don’t feel like cooking. I take a bite, but it’s just heat and salt. I wonder if it would taste different if I weren’t eating alone.

My eyes drift to the sink. Wrenley stood there last night, hands in the soapy water, staring out the window like she was watching something only she could see. She didn’t notice me, and I didn’t say anything. I just stood there like an idiot, struck by the sight of her in my kitchen. In my space. Looking like she belonged in a house I bought with no thought of anyone else ever living in it.

My phone buzzes on the table, and I pick it up.

BRANDT: In town on my days off. Pool?

Thank God.

Something to take the edge off. Something to shake me loose from this unsettled feeling clawing at my chest.

ME: I’m in.

BRANDT: Text Walter.

ME: On it.

BRANDT: See you in an hour.

I run a hand through my beard and open a new thread to Walter.

A distraction is just what I need tonight. Just enough noise to ground me back into the reality that this is just a green card marriage.

One hour, two missed shots, and half a beer later, I’m at the pool hall, avoiding my empty house and all the complicated thoughts that seem to come with it tonight. It’s not going particularly well, since Brandt and Walter keep bringing up the very subject I’m trying to avoid.

Where’s the future Mrs. Seale tonight? Walter asks as I circle the pool table, cue in hand, scanning for my next shot.

With her future sister-in-law, I say, lining up my cue with a ball. Doing some wedding planning stuff.

The second he mentions her, my focus slips. My thoughts drift back to the quiet of my house tonight. I miss her, and that’s a problem.

I take the shot. Another miss.

You don’t sound too thrilled about that, Brandt says, watching me over the rim of his beer.

I’m focusing, I mutter, chalking my cue.

That all? he pushes.