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Chapter one
Winter
“Don’tsayIdidn’twarn you.”
Ambrose huffed amicably at the older man. “I’m not worried about a taciturn neighbor, Brad. I used to live in the Flats. And I’m not exactly looking to be chummy.”
Brad winced then laughed. “Well, godspeed, kid. Barrett’s a bit of a loner and you’ll probably never see him except to glimpse a bit of beard or flannel. Or if he’s out on the lake.”
The landlord left him with a pat on the shoulder and the keys to his new home. Ambrose took in a deep breath, smelling the pines and moss and dead leaves on the air, and then unlocked the front door to his new place.
His place. Alone. No more roommates blasting shitty music at three am or cooking tuna melts. No neighbors screaming through paper thin walls or babies shrieking, forcing him to wear headphones in his own house. No shared green spaces or driveways.
Just him in a little cabin on a plot of land near Lake Honor, where the internet was surprisingly fast and he could have a home office and a tiny recording studio. Brad was the landlord but they had an agreement. Ambrose would take care of the place until Brad retired, meaning all the upkeep, interior and exterior. And Brad would sell it to him for only the value of the building. Land was expensive everywhere and paying only for the building was a steal.
It was the perfect arrangement. The perfect place for a loner like him.
After he put down the first few boxes from his rented truck, Ambrose grinned and ran his fingertips over the kitchen countertops, adjusted his glasses that had slipped over the bridge of his nose. This was exactly what he needed.
Barrett didn’t look up at the sound of tires on his gravel drive. Hardly anyone came out to the southern edge of Lake Honor, and only one person’s truck rattled and sputtered so.
“Barrett.”
“Brad.” Barrett tossed another hunk of wood on the nearby pile then readied his ax. “How are you?”
“Ah, you know me, right as rain until it rains.” Brad chuckled at his little joke and Barrett had to twitch a grin at the old man. Brad had sold Barrett his cabin years ago, having owned a string of them around the lake. Over the years Brad sold off the properties. Barrett had been his first buyer. “Offloading the extra weight for when it’s cruise season,” the old man always said. Barrett assumed it was a metaphor for something else, since Brad never seemed to leave Honor, let alone take a vacation.
Barrett grunted and swung the ax down. The log, now cleaved in two with a mighty crack, split to either side and Barrett tossed them both onto the pile. It was supposed to be a wet winter, and Barrett didn’t fancy chopping wood in the heavy, damp snow while shivering. “You want some coffee?”
“Nah, I’m headed up to see Audra. They’re having a little thing for Beckett, since she’s not a big fan of parties.”
Barrett smiled. Audra was the mayor of the next town over and Brad’s relative. Audra’s college-aged daughter, Beckett, came home every autumn for her birthday and Audra and their wife typically kept the celebration within the family. “Have a nice time, then.”
“Yeah, thanks. But real quick.” Brad held up an empty metal ring between two arthritis-crooked fingers. “Sold the last one. I’m officially on the countdown.”
“Shit. Congratulations.” Barrett forced the words out between a sudden shot of anxiety down his spine. The last cabin was the closest one to his, abandoned a few months back when the previous owner had passed away. He’d been neighbors with Perry for half a decade, and the son of a bitch kicked it before his sixtieth birthday. Barrett missed his friend, missed their nights drinking together and chatting. Missed going fishing, sharing vegetables and venison.
Fuck, he thought, swiping a hand down his face and probably smearing dirt over his forehead. But he was genuinely happy for Brad, knowing the old man had big plans. He’d worked his ass off at the docks for decades and finally had a nice little nest egg to show for it. Granted, that was to the point where he tried to give Barrett retirement advice, even though Barrett’s job as a forest ranger was plenty fine to provide for him and he wasn’t forty yet.
It wasn’t all about someone else in Perry’s house. Only about half. The other half was the unknown. “Who is…”
“He. Ambrose Tillifer. Nice lad, young.” Brad eyed up Barrett’s wild black hair and bushy beard. “Maybe about your age, if you shaved off that soup catcher.”
Barrett sputtered a laugh, making Brad grin. “Haven’t heard that one in a while.”
“No? I got a few more stored in the ol’ noggin, if you give me a few minutes.”
“Or a few beers.”
“Touché, my friend.” Brad picked up a split log and tossed it on the pile for Barrett. “He works from home, said he wants to fish and write and work on some side hobbies he’s got going on.”
Barrett’s ears perked up atfish, but the rest of it sounded all right. He breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Sounds good.”
“You should go over there. Be neighborly. Say hello.”
He snorted as he placed another log. “You’re talking like I’m some kind of grumpy loner.
“This guy and you might get on, even if it’s just to fish in silence.” Brad looked away, his nose wrinkling. “With Perry gone -”
