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He nods, shoving his hands in his pockets like son, like father, and walks across the lawn. My mom’s eyes brighten when she sees him, her arms welcoming him into her embrace, not caring that the whole of Beacon and the estates is watching them. They’ve been together thirty-two years last summer. They share a love that I’ve come to realize is special, not often found if found at all.
Loch’s eyes find me, and he nods in acknowledgment as if he’s seeing me for the first time. I understand. Some days I’m a ghost among the living, going through life with one foot in the afterlife. Other days, it feels good to be alive.Today, it’s the latter.
The accident healed some wounds with my family. Sowing wild oats was a good excuse to act out. Growing pains on my part caused some issues. There was a side of myself that needed to push boundaries to be seen. The irony is I found out my brothers, my sister, and my parents saw me all along.
I nod in return and head to the bar. No way do I plan to get trapped in conversations with my parents’ friends and colleagues without loosening up first. AndI can always order a car to drive me back to the apartment tonight.
My body tenses when I see the bartender. I’d never say we were friends. We’re not, though we’ve been at some of the same parties, mutual friends bringing us together. Lucas liked to party in Beacon on a side of town that wasn’t always safe to park our cars. It might have been my cousin who once introduced us. This guy acts low-key cool, but he can also be an asshole. He’s big on keeping what he considers his to himself, never keen to have estate kids at his parties.
I’ve never cared about what side of the line—Beacon proper or The Pointe Estates—you reside.He did, probably still does.It would be easy for me to call it jealousy, but that chip on his shoulder seems to have a grudge backing it up, judging by the disgust on his face. When I get closer, I say, “Hey, man, I remember you.” The name tag on his shirt catches my attention. “Dane, that’s right.”
“You’re Lucas’s cousin, right?” His tone is as indifferent as his expression while he runs a towel over a bottle of gin. “Another Westcott from what I remember.” There’s no hiding his feelings in the words. The disgust on his face is threaded in his tone as well.
I focus on the partygoers, not wanting a confrontation at my parents’ home. “Yeah.”
“It’s too bad what happened.” The change in tone—from aversion to something sounding more sincere—has me drawn to look back at him again. “We used to hang out occasionally.”
“I know.” Not sure if he’s wanting to relate to me somehow but it’s not going to happen through the death of my cousin.
“What can I get you?” he asks.
Looking over the bottles on display, I reply, “Whiskey on the rocks.”
He grabs a cup and scoops ice into it. Plucking the top from the bottle, he eyes it, and then with a heavy hand, he fills the glass. “Haven’t seen you at any of the parties in some time.”
“Life got busy,” I reply, keeping the details to myself.
“I hear ya.” Rounding his shoulders, he appears to relax.
“You still partying off Dobson on Fridays?”
“Cops broke it up, and Terry doesn’t like heat on his property.” He sets the cup in front of me. “On the house.”
He probably wouldn't have made the comment if he knew this was my family’s house. “Thanks. What have you been up to?”
Chuckling, he looks around as if he doesn’t want others to hear. “Busy. Like you. Heard you wrecked a Mercedes a while back.” He’s not asking, so I’m not sure I feel the need to answer.
“What can I say? It’s been a shitty couple of years.”
Shaking his head, another low chuckle punches his chest. “Must be nice to be rich.” When his eyes meet mine again, he adds, “I’d be sitting in county jail if I’d pulled that stunt, but you—”
“What about me?”
His expression tells me all I need to know—the smarmy grin sitting arrogantly on his face. “It’s a party. Lighten up.”
I take a sip of the drink, the entertainment value of this reunion worn off, like my kindness. He’s right, though, but it’s not just any party. It’s a fundraising event. I won’t be the reason people leave or don’t support the cause. One thing I’ve learned about this town is you either spark division or don’t give a damn. I knew where he stood before, but he reinforced it. No use hanging around where I’m not welcome. I may be on my home turf, but I’ll give him this bar to run in peace. “Thanks for the drink.”
Stepping off to the side, I find the captivating beauty so easily in the crowd. Lark couldn’t be farther away, but she still steals the attention from every other person here.
“She’s off-limits.” The sigh that follows warrants my interest.
I glance back at Dane behind me. “Who says?”
“I do.”
Turning back, I make a concerted effort to riffle through her thoughts or read her expression at a bare minimum, as if that’s possible from this distance. I only have what she’s given me so far, and that impression didn’t appear to include dating someone. “What would she say?”
“She’d tell you to fuck off.”
