Page 80 of Off the Trail

“What’s my job?” I ask, needing to feel useful.

“You can drink wine and keep us company,” Blaze says.

“And you can dish about the Laurels. What do you think their chances are?” Brooke asks. “Also, is Jett Montevideo single?”

“Aren’t you moving in with your boyfriend in like a week?” Blaze says.

“Wait—a week?” This is news to me.

“I am, and still, Jett Montevideo is hot.”

I laugh. “I’ll take your word for that. But he’s married to baseball, kind of like I used to be.”

“You’ve never been married?” Brooke asks as she hands me a glass of merlot.

“Not yet,” I say, smiling over the rim. The wine smells tart, and the scent of frying onions as Blaze adds them to the pan on the stove stokes my hunger.

“But you would get married? If the right person came along?” she presses.

“It’s worked for my parents, forty years and counting.” I spoke with my mom and dad on the way up here today. Mom was ecstatic I met someone, barely paused when I told her his name was Blaze, and Dad suggested they make it a white Christmas this year and come visit us in Maine. I also called Dr. Russell and asked to restart our appointments. I’ll have to impose on Blaze’s Wi-Fi to attend them remotely, but it’s going to be good for me to keep working through all these big changes with a professional.

“That’s nice,” she says. “This year our parents would have been married—what? Thirty-five years?”

Blaze counts on his fingers. “Thirty-four.”

“What about you?” I turn it around on Brooke. I’ve never had a little sister, but I’m definitely seeing the appeal in having someone you can tease who gives as good as she gets. “Marriage on your bingo card?”

“I’m pretty sure Rocky would fill out a marriage license tomorrow if I gave him the green light,” she says.

Blaze squeaks out, “What?” over the sizzle of the ground sausage he’s added to the pan.

“But I’m not in a rush,” she says breezily. “We’re still getting to know each other. Living together makes sense as a next step.”

“How old are you again?” I ask.

“Twenty-six.”

“Man, when I was twenty-six, I still had to call my mom to remind me how to work an iron. You’re ahead of the game—even if you can’t cook.”

“By the way, with my room opening up, Blaze here could use a roommate.”

“Brooke,” he says, her name a warning as he stirs the fragrant meat-vegetable mixture.

“Well, I do happen to be looking for a rental,” I say, happy to take her cue. “Something small and convenient to work would be nice.”

Blaze glares at his sister. “You’re totally stealing my thunder. I was going to ask him later.”

“Well, you can ask him now,” Brooke says.

Blaze’s cheeks turn as red as the tomatoes he’s dicing for a salad.

“Well?” Brooke prompts.

Blaze wipes his hands on a dish towel, walks over to where I’m leaning against the cluttered kitchen table. “Shawn, would you like to move in with me after my meddlesome sister shacks up with her boyfriend?”

There’s only one answer to that question, and it has my heart smiling. “I’d love to.”

Chapter 36