Page 10 of Until We Come Home

Calvin's Victorian sits on the bluff above the inlet, the water stretched out flat and glassy under a cloudless Pacific Northwest sky, a couple of sailboats sitting still on it like they've been painted there.

Below the house, a wide grassy yard sprawls down toward the edge of the bluff, packed with half the town and the entire Midnight clan. Kids dart between the folding tables while the family dogs trail behind them hoping for a stray burger, and a game of cornhole is already underway, complete with a lively argument over the rules.

It's a good party. I'm just having a harder time matching the energy up there, so I turn back to the logs and keep arranging kindling along the base.

"Now how did I know I'd find you brooding alone down here?"

I look up at Mia's voice to see her coming down the slope with a bottle of the local IPA in each hand.

I straighten up, already grinning at the sight of her. She flew in from LA earlier today alongside Lark and Jack. The three of them are spending the week up here in Dark River, visiting family and scouting locations for the dance pieces on Lark's upcoming album project, so having them in town feels like a bonus.

Mia’s in jean shorts and a plain white T-shirt with her long wavy hair piled up on top of her head to beat the heat. She looks fucking good, and I know for a fact that half the men at this party have already noticed.

"I'm not hiding. I'm doing fire prep," I tell her, taking the beer she holds out and nodding at the pit. "Somebody has to make sure this thing doesn't take the whole yard with it tonight."

"Mm-hmm." She settles onto one of the big driftwood logs around the fire pit. "Don't think I don't see straight through this. You act all helpful and responsible, and really you're using it as an excuse to avoid talking to anyone."

"That's just a side benefit."

She rolls her eyes. "You're so antisocial."

“I'm not antisocial.” I laugh and crouch back down to the fire pit. "I'm... socially selective."

"Well, speaking of your selective social life, I actually came down here for a reason beyond enjoying your charming disposition. See that cute brunette up there with the cool tattoos?"

She points discreetly up the lawn toward a pretty woman chatting with a group by the drinks table, a sleeve of flowers running from her shoulder to her wrist.

"Yeah, I see her."

"She was asking about you earlier," Mia says.

"Oh?" I take a drink of my beer, instantly wary of the look on her face.

"Yep." She lowers her voice into a conspiratorial whisper, leaning in slightly. "Her name is Megan and she wanted to know if you were taken. I assured her you were very single and promised to put in a good word. Plus, she's totally your type, so my matchmaking career is off to a flying start."

I rest my elbows on my knees. "And what makes her my type, exactly?"

"First of all, tattoos," she says, ticking the point off on her fingers. "Which we both know you have a thing for."

"Right, because ink is the ultimate foundation for a lasting relationship," I say dryly.

“Ignoring the attitude. Second, she’s got a cool, edgy vibe. And third, she actually listens to that fire ecology podcast you tried to explain to me last month. I mean, what are the odds?”

“The Fire Line?” I ask.

“That exact one,” she says, snapping her fingers. “She’s an environmental scientist or something, so she loves it. Plus, she’s a Pisces, and I always get along with Pisces. It's important for your friends to be compatible with your romantic partners anyway. Makes the whole meshing-of-lives thing so much easier at parties."

I can never remember what my astrological sign is, but Mia knows it. Early on she insisted on running my full chart, demanding the exact time I was born and the name of the hospital. I went along with it because of how happy it made her, though she gets irritated whenever I forget, since she’s explained it to me at least a dozen times by now.

"How did you get all of that information already?" I ask.

"What can I say? I'm a social creature," she says, waving a hand casually. "She saw us talking earlier and wanted to check if you were taken. Don't worry, I gave her the full rundown. Clarified that we're strictly, completely platonic."

"Glad we cleared that up. I was on the edge of my seat."

Buzz. Buzz.

“Look, I’m just doing you a favor here,” she says, tapping her sneaker against my knee. “She’s convinced you’re the quiet, brooding type. Plus, the firefighter detail definitely piqued her interest, and standing over six feet tall isn’t exactly working against you.”