Ben was at the front desk typing something into the reservations computer when Luka opened the lobby doors.

  “Welcome to the Brooch, I’ll be right wi—” His face lit up as he looked from what he was doing and recognized who was coming inside. “Luka, hey! When did you get back?”

  Luka cringed inwardly. He’d been so wrapped up in his woes that he’d forgotten to text Ben when he’d returned.

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Ah.” Ben eyed him. “Well, pull a chair up to the desk and tell me all about it. Or better yet”—he stared Frank in the eyes as the dog stood on up onto his hind legs so he could see over the desk—“let’s walk the grounds. There’s probably something I need to take care of.”

  “Is it possible to get a coffee first?”

  Ben pointed toward the dining room. “Grab yourself a cup from the buffet.”

  Luka also snagged a roll for himself and one for Frank too, since he’d raced out of the house without eating anything, then tucked a ten-dollar bill into a copper tumbler next to the coffee urn. He wasn’t a guest and felt guilty helping himself even if Ben said it was okay.

  A young woman with long brown hair and a friendly smile had taken over the desk by the time Luka returned.

  “Ben’s waiting for you out front,” she informed him.

  Outside, Ben was bundled up in a dark blue wool peacoat buttoned to the collar and a beanie pulled down to his ears.

  “I can’t believe how quickly the weather changed!”

  “Yeah? All I know is, I’m fucking freezing,” Luka grumbled as he tried to hunch further inside his jacket.

  “You’ll get used to it again. Come on, let’s walk out this way.”

  Tucking the rolls into his coat pocket so he could hold his coffee in one hand and Frank’s leash in the other, Luka followed Ben’s direction, and they stepped onto a gravel path that eventually forked in two directions. To the right was the front of the resort, with the private marina and fancy sailboats in front of them. They took a left, toward the cottages that families and couples rented by the week.

  “Wow,” exclaimed Luka when the cottages came into view.

  The last time he’d seen them they’d needed new paint and probably even more work on the inside.

  “Right?” Ben agreed. “They’re not all remodeled quite yet, but they look good, don’t they? And look behind you, check out the mural.”

  Luka twisted around to see what Ben was talking about and saw a gorgeous mural painted on the backside of one of the old storage buildings. Intricate and colorful, the art depicted the history of Piedras Island and the resort.

  “That’s incredible.”

  “The artist is living in one of the cottages right now.” They walked in silence for a moment, a silence Luka knew wouldn’t last. “Alright,” Ben began, “I’ve waited long enough. Why are you suddenly home?”

  “And now I’m second guessing myself,” Luka said a few minutes later having shared the unedited version of Life with Dean. “I haven’t heard from him since after the show. But, seriously, I just couldn’t deal anymore.”

  While Luka had been spilling his guts, they’d meandered down to the water’s edge and were now in a competition to see who could skip rocks the farthest. At first, Frank had thought the game was fun, but he’d quickly tired of it and decided to just stand in the shallow water, staring at nothing as far as Luka could tell.

  Luka’s next attempt skipped once, twice, and then a disappointing half, before disappearing under the surface. Ripples formed and spread outward over the surface of the unusually calm water.

  “I love my cousin, but he can be oblivious,” Ben said. He flicked his rock into the water, and it skipped five times.

  “Dang,” Luka complained.

  “I get a lot of practice.”

  “Rock skipping is part of your job title?”

  Ben snorted, turning his attention from the water back to Luka.

  “Being oblivious doesn’t excuse Dean’s behavior. If you want my honest opinion, I think you’re better off letting him stew a bit.”

  Frank snapped his jaws at something only he could see. A bug? Who knew? Luka felt around in his pocket for the rolls and held one out to the dog. With typically obscure Husky disdain, he sniffed at it but decided he wasn’t eating it.

  “Fine, more for me,” Luka told the dog. “And in the meantime, what am I supposed to do while Dean is stewing?”

  He couldn’t let himself consider that Dean might not come and get Frank. Had he been too hasty? Had he forced Dean’s hand?

  “Do what you want. Cody says you can play in the evening at the Kiln whenever you want. I think it would be good for you to unpack your guitar and let it sing, it’s been too long.”

  Luka nodded and watched Frank as he let the idea of playing again unfold in his mind. He had been thinking about it. And now he was home, with the opportunity to play if he was brave enough to take it.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay what? You’ll let Dean stew, or you’ll play at The Kiln one of these nights?”

  Luka smiled at his friend. “Both.”

  SEVEN

  Thirteen years ago

  Luka chortled, grinning down at the picture from Dean that had popped up on his screen. The most recent in a long line of them. Today the Blanchetts were visiting the Washington Monument, along with thousands of other tourists. Dean’s face took up most of the screen but in the background Luka spotted Channing’s back, her long hair perfect while she held her phone up for the perfect selfie.

  Dean: She’s so mad. It’s so worth it.

  Luka: lol

  Dean: Mom threatened to ground me. What’s she gonna do, let me stay in the hotel room by myself? That would rock.

  Luka: Are you having fun?

  Dean: The Museum of Natural History was pretty cool. I want to go to the National Music Museum but got voted off the island because it’s too far.

  Luka: What?

  Dean: Right? We flew like 3000 miles and the only thing I want to see is too far. What are you doing?

  Luka: Dad’s making me work at the store.

  Working at the store wasn’t the worse thing. At least they were busy with the last big influx of tourists, and Luka kind of liked talking to the kids who ventured in with their families. They always asked about the obscure instruments on display.

  Dean: I wish I was. Anything would be better than this stupid trip.

  Luka: It’s that bad?

  Dean: Remember I told you they fight all the time? I swear it’s every minute.

  Luka: That sucks.

  Dean: And Channing is a B. The rents are making us share a room. Gotta go, looks like I have more selfies to take.

  A little while later two more arrived. The first had Dean’s face and Channing’s back again, they were at some big fountain. The second showed about half of Dean and Channing twisting around, an outraged expression on her face, and pointing at Dean. Luka snickered, wondering if Dean really would get grounded.

  Luka: That’s the best one yet.

  Dean: Agreed. But Dad threatened to take my phone away so there goes all my fun.

  Luka: Sorry, dude.

  He hesitated before typing, I wish you were still here. That didn’t sound too pathetic, did it?

  Dean: I wish I was too.

  Present Day

  Dean

  “You absolutely need something big like this,” Sky assured Dean from the passenger side of the vehicle as they ran their hand along the smooth leather seat.

  Dean agreed. He was test-driving a truck big enough to hold all the shit he’d brought along with him to Hollyridge. Plus, Frank and his stuff would fit in it if the plan Sky had conceived—and make no mistake, the plan was all Sky’s—went sideways.

  “This model of the F-150 is a hybrid, as you know,” the salesman said from behind the driver’s seat. He then proceeded to drone on about horsepower, charging time, extra storage, blah blah. Dean tuned him out.

  “Honestly,” Sky broke in, in a not-at-all low voice, “I don’t know what it is about men and trucks that makes me all hot. Sometimes on a whim, Wallace and I will just hop into his beast and take off for a long drive. Best times I’ve ever had. As long as you remember to pack a blanket, but,” they added thoughtfully, “a thin memory foam mattress topper is even more comfortable.”

  There was a choking sound from behind them, and Dean snickered and glanced over at Sky, who also had a grin on their face. The salesman—Steve, Mike, whoever he was—kept quiet after that. Dean had already decided he was going to buy the truck, the test drive was just for fun. And since Milo had been busy at his bed and breakfast, Dean had asked Sky if they wanted to come along. Best decision ever.

  Flicking on the blinker, Dean eased the truck onto the highway that ran along the north side of Hollyridge. Pressing the accelerator, he took it up to sixty and stayed on the highway for a few miles before exiting and taking surface roads back to the dealership.

  Paying cash for the truck made things at the dealership go quickly, even if it pissed them off because they weren’t making bank on interest. Too bad. A few hours later, Dean was the proud owner of the first vehicle he’d owned in a decade.

  “Thanks for coming along,” he said after pulling into the parking lot of the Stone Hut.

  “Anytime. I love new car smell,” Sky replied with a smile. “Hey, now, don’t be a stranger though. Come and visit anytime. But remember, just own it. If you want Luka, just own it. With consent, of course.”

  Dean wasn’t sure about Sky’s plan, but he didn’t have a better one. Or one at all. At night, after Davey and Milo were asleep—or at least, not walking around their house—Dean had logged into a porn site to test his very-likely bi-ness. He’d been turned on for sure, but he’d felt guilty about it, as if he was somehow cheating on Luka. What the fuck was with that?

  “You and Wallace should come visit Piedras too. I think you’d like it there.”

  Sky’s cherry-red lips widened into a broad smile as they slid from the passenger seat. “It’s a deal.” With those words, Sky turned and strode toward the bar’s entrance, their four-inch heels clacking against the pavement and their orange A-line skirt billowing out behind them.

  Back at Milo’s, Dean didn’t waste any time packing the truck. If he left in the morning, he just might be able to catch the last ferry to Piedras tomorrow. If he missed it, he could stay at a motel close by and get the first one the next morning. It was time to put the plan into action.

  The night Dean had arrived almost a week ago and ended up sharing the sordid details of his life, Milo, Davey, and Sky had all agreed that Dean needed to head to Piedras and claim his man. Those were Sky’s words and Dean’s stomach still twisted when he thought them, but it hurt worse when he imagined his life without Luka.

  “You know where he is if you want him,” Milo had pointed out with irritating reason. “You have to know he’s been in love with you forever.”

  Of course, Dean didn’t know any such thing. Why would Luka waste his time loving Dean?

  “Don’t tell him you’re coming. I’m sure he expects you to pick up Frank eventually anyway.” Milo then gave Dean the side eye. “You are planning on getting Frank, right?”

  “Dude, of course.”

  If Luka rejected him, he and Frank would hit the open road, play dive bars and live off Subway sandwiches for the rest of his life. Or the next few months anyway. Maybe he’d shave his head and grow muttonchops so no one would recognize him. Nah, he wouldn’t shave his head, but a mustache was an idea.

  “Well, get Luka at the same time.” Milo shook his head, narrowing his eyes at Dean. “I can’t believe I feel have to say this but—you do realize you’ve been in love with Luka forever too, right?”

  “I guess,” Dean mumbled because no, he’d been pretty good at hiding that fact from himself.

  “May I interject?” Sky enquired.

  Dean nodded, feeling dumb. Why not listen to everyone’s opinion? He glanced at Elvis, maybe the dog had an idea too.

  “Don’t be a caveman about this, but,” Sky began, gesturing with their phone, “stay true to the end goal. From what you’ve said, I imagine Luka isn’t going to just accept you’ve suddenly had a change of heart. You are going to have to demonstrate your affections. Physically. With consent, of course. And even then, I bet he’s going to keep coming up with excuses for that ‘sudden’ change of heart. Like you are just experimenting with him and when you get tired of him, you’ll move along.”

  “But, I’m not—I would never!” Dean was shocked by Sky’s suggestion.

  “How many fiancés was that again?” Milo asked with an ever so slightly snarky tone.

  Fuck. “Fuck off. Three,” he admitted.

  Sky nodded thoughtfully. “Impressive and also why you have to stick to the plan.”

  “Get yourself to Piedras. Get your dog. Get your man.” Milo made it all sound so logical. “Huh,” he continued, “it’s like a backwards country song. And you have a truck now too.”

  The guys in the band, plus Milo, Davey, and Sky couldn’t all be wrong about Luka, could they? Dean had asked Wallace his opinion but Wallace had shaken his head, saying he was the last person to ask for advice about love.

  “That’s right, baby,” Sky had said, patting Wallace’s thigh. “Stay in your lane.”

  When Dean arrived at the ferry and had his ticket in hand, he took a deep breath, the first one since five that morning, when he’d waved goodbye to Milo’s house since Milo and Davey had been asleep and climbed behind the wheel. Once he was parked in the ferry wait line with the engine off, Dean plucked his phone from the cup holder. He stared at it a moment before deciding he might was well text both Milo and Sky at the same time.

  Dean: I made the ferry. Not even the last one.

  … …

  Milo: You’ve got this.

  Sky: Oh, baby!

  Dean: I’ll let you know how things go. Probably tomorrow I’ll be heading back to Hollyridge with Frank.

  Sky: Don’t be a quitter. We talked about this.

  Milo: Just be yourself.

  Dean: That seems to have gotten me in more trouble than not.

  Milo: Be the Real You.

  Sky: Kisses, we have your back.

  After that conversation, Dean replied to an email from the moving company he’d hired. In for a penny, in for a pound. Then the ferry blasted its horn and they were getting ready to load up. Dean gripped the steering wheel, willing himself to breathe and not freak the fuck out.

  Luka

  Wiping his palms on his jeans, Luka rolled his neck and looked around the pub. Deep breaths, he reminded himself. The Kiln wasn’t particularly busy on this midweek evening in late October, but there were five or six tables of diners plus a few guests sitting at the bar. When Ben had mentioned Cody’s offer to play there, Luka uncharacteristically had jumped at the chance. So there he was, for the first time in years, setting up a small stage. For himself.

  Ben and his boyfriend Henry had claimed the table in front of the stage area. Luka was sitting with them after setting up, while he gathered the courage to get his ass back up there and start playing. He’d taken an immediate shine to Henry. He practiced family law in Seattle during the week, and was twelve or thirteen years older than Ben, but he had an easy manner about him. Luka wondered if Henry had always been that way or if Ben brought it out in him.

  It was hard not to feel the tiniest bit jealous.

  “Okay, it’s time.” If he waited any longer he was going to walk out the door instead of onto the small stage.

  Ben shot him a supportive smile. “Break a leg.”

  Rolling his eyes, Luka pushed away from the table. “I’m not performing Hamlet.”

  Years of habit had him checking the mic and amp again before making himself comfortable on the provided metal stool, one heel on the rung and the other on the ground to keep him from falling over.

  “Hello, everyone. I, well.” He cleared his throat, not focusing on the audience but instead on a reflection behind the bar. “I’m a little nervous to be here, actually. Anyway, my name is Luka Gajić and I’ll be playing a few things for you tonight. Hopefully, you won’t need cotton for your ears.”

  He’d decided to stick with a safe and short playlist, mostly the Croatian folk music he and his dad had played together over the years plus a few other songs. Taking yet another deep breath, Luka let his fingers brush against the strings, focusing on the way the frets felt underneath his fingers and not his nervous stomach.

  Mid-song Luka realized that at some point Neb had joined the audience. His dad shot him a smile and a thumbs-up. Luka lifted his chin and kept playing, wondering who had spilled the beans. Probably Ben, damn him.

  “This last one you might know,” he announced after he’d exhausted the folk music. Luka hadn’t been certain he’d play this song but now figured he might as well. Setting his fingers to the correct frets, Luka began to strum the first notes of Mine, losing himself in fretwork and memories. He and Dean had written the song together, Luka coming up with the words, Dean writing the music. It was the one and only time they’d collaborated. And it was Lost Apostles’ first hit.

  The final riff faded into silence and Luka lifted his head, risking a glance at his audience. The ones paying attention smiled at him and started clapping. Probably just being polite, but at least they weren’t throwing napkins or pint glasses. Straightening from the stool, Luka lifted the strap over his head so he could set his guitar back in its stand.

  “Awesome!” Ben enthused as he approached the stage. “Come sit with us again. We owe you a beer and dinner. ”

  Luka caught sight of more people he recognized. “Marigold and Sage are here.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14