Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 51525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 258(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 258(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
“Do you want a cup of coffee?” Bre asks.
I take my attention off Lyra, who’s started to crack open eggs, to look at her. “Yeah, babe.” She nods and pours me a cup then dispense one for herself. Handing me mine, she takes a sip of hers then moves around, gathering the things she needs to make pancakes. Unlike me, who would make them from the box, she always prepares them from scratch. She could probably win an award for her pancakes; they are that good—crisp around the edges, soft and fluffy in the middle. Once Lyra has the eggs cracked, I let her beat them then dump them in the pan.
“So, birthday girl, what are you doing today?”
“Going with Mama to look for bears,” she tells me, and I look at Bre and raise a brow.
“We’re going out the road. Dad said the salmon are starting to head up the river and the bears are out. Ly wanted to see if she could get some photos with the camera my brother sent her for her birthday,” she explains.
“No getting out of your Jeep, and if a bear gets close, make sure you’re able to take off.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not crazy, Den,” she tells me, spooning her pancake batter into a pan on the stove.
“I know, but bears are unpredictable. Remember what happened last year to those tourists?”
“I remember,” she says softly, shivering.
Last summer, a group of tourists went out toward the glacier to watch the bears as they caught salmon from the river. One of the bears was more interested in them and destroyed their rental, trying to get inside. No one was seriously hurt, but someone could have been, and badly.
“Can you come with us?”
At Lyra’s question, I feel Bre tense ever so slightly. Part of me wants to agree to go just to push Bre, but I don’t.
“I have to work, but I’ll be here for your birthday party tonight.”
“Oh, all right,” Lyra sighs, and I smile then kiss her forehead. I add the ham to the eggs then wait until they’re almost done before I add in the cheese.
We eat breakfast in the kitchen, and then I leave promising I’ll be back for cake and pizza. I head to my boat and start getting things ready for next week. I have the weekend off, but there is always shit to do when you’re your own boss. Once I’m done with work, I stop to pick up Lyra’s birthday gift. One of the shops in town makes custom fleece jackets and vest; you can choose your color and add different ribbons. I bought Lyra a dark pink fleece jacket and a matching vest, with white ribbon that has small hearts on it and her name embroidered on the chest. I know she’ll love it, since she loved the one I got my mom at Christmas. Once I pick it up, I head to my parents’ house to kill some time before the party.
I park in the driveway next to my mom’s truck and climb out. I head inside without knocking, and pause when I hear my mom cry, “No!” in distress. “No, please, tell me you’re lying.” I see her on the phone in the kitchen and head that way, wondering who she’s talking to and what’s going on. Her head flies up and she swallows when her eyes meet mine. “Shel, I gotta go.” Shel, as in Aubrey’s stepmom? Worry starts niggling the back of my mind. “I know. Sorry, but Denver just walked in.” She looks at the floor. “Yeah, I know. I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Yeah, later.” She hangs up.
“What’s going on? Are Bre and Lyra okay?” Visions of them and a bear fill my mind and it takes everything in me not to leave and head for my truck. She doesn’t lift her head, and that worry gets stronger. “Mom, what the fuck? Are Bre and Lyra okay?”
“Their both fine. Um…” She looks at me then looks away. “Aubrey asked Shel to watch Lyra next Friday.”
“Okay?” I frown.
“She has a date.”
I know I must have heard her wrong. It sounded like she just said Bre has a date next Friday. “Pardon?”
“A date. Bre has a date next Friday,” she repeats, turning toward the sink where she starts to wash the dishes.
“You’re fucking with me.” My mom knows how I feel about Bre, has known for years, actually there is a good chance everyone knows.
“Language,” she snaps, looking at me over her shoulder. “And no, I’m not.”
Fuck. She’s not lying. What the fuck? Bre has a date… with who?
“With who?” I ask aloud.
“What?”
“Who does she have a date with?” I growl.
“Some guy named Mike. I guess he lives out of town but fishes here during the season.” I wrack my brain trying to figure out who Mike is then frown. I know a few Mikes, but most of them are married.