This time, I think I’m the one who needs it.
+ + +
The trip to the beach is chaos. Clothing changes. Beach towels. Snacks. Water bottles. Another bathroom check.
“Please tell me one of those coolers has beer,” I mumble to Mason as we descend toward the sand.
“Locked and loaded, stressed daddy,” Mason teases. One hundred and fifty wooden stairs take us down the cliff to the shore with a small deck landing in the middle to view the grand lake before us. I’m hoping all the steps will deplete some of my boys’ energy. It’s wishful thinking, at least.
A set of Adirondack chairs stand in a circle on the beach, and I’m instantly reminded of the last time I sat here among my friends, along with Ben. We were celebrating baby Ben’s birth while watching Ben’s sons play football and my sons run around like the little crazy beasts they are. I shake off the sadness and offer Anna a small smile when she catches me staring at an empty chair.
“Beer?” I offer, stepping over to the cooler in desperate need of refreshment.
“No thanks,” she mutters, gazing out at my boys playing on the edge of the water. Her daughter, Mila, entertains them. Being eleven, she’s crossed over the line and considers the twins too young to be playmates. Instead, she shows interest in them like a babysitter might.
“They grow so fast,” Anna states, still watching the three interact. Her sons are not home yet today. Calvin is seventeen and inherited Ben’s old truck. Bryce turned fifteen and is off with friends for the day. The boys seemed to have adjusted well enough to the sudden move their parents decided to make while they were in high school. What’s difficult to judge is how they are handling the death of their father at such vulnerable ages.
Mason takes a seat and automatically hands Anna an open beer even though she declined my offer. Blindly, she accepts it and takes a drink of the summer shandy. I tip up a brow at Mason, who just shakes his head at me. Don’t ask.
“There they are,” he calls out instead, and I twist in my chair to see Logan carrying three bags and something long under his arm. Autumn follows with baby Ben in a carrier strapped to her chest.
“Lorna. Come here, beautiful,” I address Logan’s daughter, who runs to give me a quick sideways hug before running off for Mila. The two girls are technically cousins now but also best friends despite a one-year age gap. I greet Autumn next, pressing a kiss to her cheek and then one to her son’s head.
“I think he’s finally asleep,” she whispers. Her voice is strained from the effort of walking down all those stairs with an additional ten pounds attached to her. Gingerly, she lowers herself into a chair.
“I forgot how much shit babies need,” Logan huffs, not so gracefully dropping all the bags onto the sand and bending for the cooler immediately.
“It’s not shit,” Autumn argues, pressing a kiss to the head of her sleeping babe.
“You’re right. It’s crap,” Logan mocks, stepping over to his wife and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Want me to set up that tent thingy?”
“Not yet,” she sighs. “But I’d kill for one of those.” She nods longingly at the beer in his hand.
“I’ll drink one for you,” he teases.
“You aren’t drinking?” I question and feel like an idiot when Autumn simply replies, “Nursing.”
“Oh yes, let’s discuss breasts,” Mason teases before lifting his beer and taking a long pull.
“As opposed to cojones?” I joke.
“Why are cojones in opposition to breasts?” Logan questions, and Mason shakes his head.
“Don’t ask,” I retort. “But might I suggest when your boy grows older, you keep Uncle Mason away from him when he’s six, seven, or any age where body parts are a fascination.”
“We’re men. All body parts fascinate us,” Mason jests.
“Please let us talk about something other than body parts,” I beg, tipping my head back in my seat. “Tell me more about the neighbor.”
It isn’t the smoothest transition, but I’m curious. Who exactly is River? Is she the golden-haired goddess who hasn’t left my thoughts for weeks since I saw her the night of Ben’s funeral?
“Speaking of body parts.” Mason salaciously grins and wiggles his eyebrows.
Fuck. My hackles instantly rise, asking a question where I fear the answer. “Do you have knowledge of her body parts?”
“Oh my gosh, must we discuss Mason’s sex life? Innocent ears here,” Autumn jokes, covering baby Ben’s ears.
“He isn’t interested in sex yet, just boobs,” Mason replies.
Logan chokes on a swallow of beer. “Those would be my wife’s boobs you’re referencing, and they are not up for discussion.”
“Easy, baby daddy.” Mason holds up both hands. “I just mean River has a nice rack.”
Anna scrunches her face while Autumn shakes her head in disgust. Mentioning her rack reminds me of her outlined form, standing in the dim light of her darkened yard. She might as well have been naked that night.
“Did you bang her?” I crudely ask, my voice rough for some reason. My hand clenches tighter around the beer bottle in my hand. I’ll strangle him if he touched her.
And I have no idea where the possessive thoughts come from.
“Fuck no. She’s not my type,” Mason gruffly answers, holding his head still as he narrows his eyes at me.
“You have a type?” Logan jests. Anna stands without a sound and begins walking down the beach. Shit.
“Should someone follow her?” I question, suddenly feeling bad about discussing sex, even if it is just Mason’s lifestyle. Silently, he watches Anna stalk away.
“She’s going to do this from time to time,” Autumn answers. “She’ll need to break away from the chaos to process her emotions.”
“Is it too much that we’re here?” I ask, loosening the grip on my beer bottle while checking on my boys, who are torturing Mila and Lorna in the water.
“She wants you all here, but it’s also difficult.” Autumn’s statement makes sense. Still, I’m worried about my friend.
“Should we have stayed someplace else?”
“Definitely not,” Autumn reiterates. “This is what Ben wanted. She knows this, and it’s good for her.”
I hear what Autumn’s saying, but I take another glance down the beach at Anna’s retreating back.
“She’ll be okay,” Autumn offers. It’s a lie. We might never be okay. We’ll all be different, but especially Anna.
“So. River?” Mason interjects, attempting to discuss anything other than Ben and Anna. “Wonder if she’s getting laid in your old room.” Mason wiggles his brows at me.
“You really are an ass sometimes,” Logan huffs, taking a pull of his beer. I appreciate he’s offended on my behalf. I hadn’t thought about it before, but with Mason mentioning it, I’m curious now. Has she been in my childhood bedroom? Has she fucked someone all over the house? The thought both sickens me and excites me for some reason, and I realize I need to get laid. Since my divorce, I haven’t branched out like my colleagues have encouraged. Maybe I’ll find someone random on this trip and allow myself a one-night stand. Then again, the last time I had one of those, I ended up with a wife and twins.