Sawyer eventually straightened when Ryan closed the distance between them as he extended his right hand. Ryan caught it in a firm grip, pulling Sawyer forward into an embrace, both men patting each other on the back with their free hands.
“You’re late,” Ryan complained with a grin, squeezing Sawyer by the shoulder before taking a backward step, Oona excitedly sniffing at Sawyer’s shoes. “Still forever attending funerals, I see.” Ryan raised an eyebrow at Sawyer’s all-black ensemble—a style Sawyer hadn’t been able to shake since high school.
“They don’t start with ‘fun’ for nothing,” Sawyer said. “And we took a wrong turn.” He rolled his eyes at his own admission. “Ended up fifteen miles in the wrong direction before I realized I’m an idiot.”
“At the lake?” Ryan asked as Sawyer ruffled the fur on top of Oona’s head.
“That entire thing is frozen through. Have you seen it?”
Ryan peered at Oona as she snorted. She was picking up a scent, exhaling a loud blast of air against Sawyer’s shoe.
“Elvis,” Sawyer concluded. “April’s ferret.”
Ryan wrinkled his nose at the news. “Please tell me you didn’t bring rodents.”
“God no,” Sawyer muttered beneath his breath. “I’m not a fan either.”
“They’re creepy as hell.”
“Hey,” Sawyer lifted his hands up in front of his chest. “You don’t have to tell
me
. Try waking up next to one of those long-bodied fuckers at three in the morning; one wrong move and
you get a face full of tiny fangs.” He moved a hand in front of his mouth, wiggling his fingers to imply teeth. Ryan shuddered.
“You
sleep
with it? Sweet Christ.”
Sawyer looked toward the house, its glittering facade blocking the view of the side porch. “Jane?” he asked, lowering his voice.
“Kitchen,” Ryan told him.
When the passenger door swung open, Sawyer gave Ryan a look, motioning to the girl who was making her way around the front of the Jeep. She kept one hand against the hood of the car, careful not to slip on the ice that had formed there. “Ryan, April,” Sawyer introduced them.
Ryan found himself face-to-face with the girl Sawyer had told him about. She extended a delicate hand toward him in greeting, a reserved smile pulling at the corners of a cotton-candy mouth.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, dipping her chin downward shyly as she shook Ryan’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Thanks for letting me tag along.”
“The more the merrier,” he told her, smiling through a pang of annoyance. Their group minus April would have been perfect—he and Lauren could get to know each other while Sawyer and Jane reacquainted themselves on the opposite side of the house.
Smiling at Oona, April crouched down to offer the dog a hand to sniff, ice fracturing beneath the soles of her combat boots. “Aren’t you beautiful?” she said, glancing up to Ryan after burying her fingers in the dog’s fur. “Is she yours?”
Ryan nodded. “The only woman in my life,” he teased, and Sawyer choked back a laugh.
“Here we go.” Sawyer waited for the punch line.
And she’s a real bitch.
Ryan cracked a stupid smile at his childhood friend and resisted the urge to finish the joke, motioning to the house. “Come on,” he told them. “The girls are inside.”
Jane was sick with nerves. Standing over her half-frosted chocolate cake, a sugar-coated finger stuck in her mouth, she listened for footsteps while her stomach churned. She hadn’t seen Sawyer in more than five years, and their last encounter had been quick. He’d passed through Phoenix on the way to Los Angeles this past fall, and they had spent ten minutes of an early morning together in a sticky Denny’s booth before she excused herself; it had been a school day; she had kids to teach—and first loves to forget. The two of them hadn’t had an honest conversation in nearly ten years, their last one emotional enough to remain a vivid memory. But that had been high school. Nobody should be held accountable for the bad choices they made between freshman and senior years.
And yet the sound of footsteps on the porch woke a flurry of sleeping butterflies, her pulse fluttering in her throat. She swallowed her anxiety, trying not to look nervous as she watched her brother and a pair of dark-clad figures drift past the window. Sawyer had fallen into an all-black phase the year he had discovered Depeche Mode, and had never grown out of it, but it suited his features well: sharp, Norse, desperately pretty even as he toed the line of thirty. Jane squared her shoulders when Ryan appeared at the side door, cleared her throat, and put on her best smile.
A cold blast of air cut through the warmth of the room as the door swung inward and Oona padded inside, her tongue hanging out of her mouth, her tail whapping the air. Ryan stepped in after her, holding the door for Sawyer and his girl.
Had Sawyer given her the chance, she would have immediately felt intimidated by the woman who stepped inside behind him. She was stunning—the kind of girl who demanded attention without saying a word. But before Jane could wrap her mind around the beautiful creature that tailed him, Sawyer closed the
distance and Jane found herself in his embrace. Like a long-lost lover, she reflexively pulled in a deep breath to catch his scent: soap and clove smoke, the subtle spice of well-worn leather. She wanted to shut out the world, to hold on to that moment for longer than she cared to admit.
“Hi, Janey,” Sawyer murmured against her hair.
“Hi, Tom,” she said softly. Sawyer Thomas had a predictable nickname. He declared that if he was to be named after anybody, Tom Sawyer wasn’t a bad kid to have as a namesake.
Jane was the one to step out of their embrace when Lauren came into view. She could feel Ryan’s gaze on the pair of them, sure that Sawyer’s girl was staring a hole into her spine. Jane flashed a smile at the pretty stranger standing next to her brother, sidestepping Sawyer to greet the girl she truly had no desire to know.
“April?” she asked. Jane wrapped her arms around the girl in a casual hug, surprised at how small April was. Ryan and Lauren cast raised eyebrows at each other over April’s shoulder as they watched the exchange. Their shared glance made Jane feel awkward, but she was determined to be as welcoming as possible.
“So good to meet you,” Jane told her, sounding a little too excited. She took a backward step, feeling as plastic as possible. “I like your coat,” she said, unsure how to continue.
How’s it like to be with the guy I still think about?
“God, sorry, this is Lauren.” She motioned for Lauren to come over.
“And this?” Sawyer asked, standing threateningly close to Jane’s half-frosted chocolate cake.
“That,” Jane said, stepping over to the island to save the cake from an early fate, “is not finished, so don’t even think about it.” She swept it up and moved it out of the way, placing it on the counter beside the sink.
Jane was quick to notice the way April was looking around the place, sure she had expected some tiny two-bedroom shack in the middle of the woods.
“Sorry,” Jane said, offering April an apologetic smile. “It’s…not really a cabin, I guess.”
“Why are you apologizing?” Sawyer asked.
“Because it’s embarrassing,” Ryan cut in. “This whole trip would be far more comfortable if we had rented a tar-paper shack.” He glanced at Lauren. “Complete with outhouse, so you have to go outside in the middle of the night.”
Lauren rolled her eyes at him.
“Don’t you think they should make a movie like that?” he asked her.
“Like what?” Lauren asked. “A movie about an outhouse?”
“Exactly. And every time one of the characters goes outside to use it, they end up being killed by a werewolf.”
“A werewolf?” Sawyer bit back a laugh. “What the hell, why a werewolf?”
“Lauren loves werewolves,” Ryan told him.
“I’ll give you the grand tour,” Jane told April, too nervous to enjoy the back-and-forth banter.
“Sawyer doesn’t need a grand tour,” Ryan told her. “Sawyer needs to come outside and unload his crap.” He nodded toward the door they had entered through. Jane watched the boys shuffle back out onto the deck. Looking back to April and then Lauren, she lifted her shoulders up to her ears with a smile.
Boys.
“So, Jane looks good,” Sawyer confessed, leaning against the back bumper of his Jeep as he lit up a smoke. “For being married, I mean.” He knew it wouldn’t come as a surprise to Ryan that Sawyer had checked his sister out; Ryan was, after all, the
person who’d supplied him with updates about Jane for the past ten years, something Sawyer was sure would creep Jane the hell out if she ever found out. Sawyer had tried not to ask about how Jane was doing for a while, and he actually held out for a good few years, but not asking had stilted conversations with Ryan to the point of embarrassment. Ryan was the one who eventually caved, giving Sawyer the occasional scoop without being asked: Jane was getting married; Jane was getting divorced.
“Yeah, well…” Ryan joined Sawyer against the Jeep’s bumper, his hands buried in the pockets of his coat. “April’s more attractive than I imagined.” A droll grin spread across his mouth, and Sawyer laughed with a shake of his head.
“Yeah?” he asked, smoke curling past his lips. “You thought she was going to look like Oona?”
“Hey, Oona’s majestic.”
Sawyer pushed away from the bumper and walked a few steps ahead before turning to face the cabin, taking a long drag off his cigarette. “So the old man is really selling this place?” he asked. “Why don’t you just buy it? You’ve got the money.”
Ryan snorted at that.
“Spent it all jet-setting?” Sawyer asked. “Let me guess, you’re already a quarter mil in debt?”
“I wouldn’t buy this place if it was free,” Ryan confessed.
“You know that’s bullshit.”
Ryan shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his arms coiling across his chest.
“What?” Sawyer asked. “Like I don’t know this is a sore subject?” Growing up as practically the third twin, Sawyer knew Michael Adler well. “He still running around with that Italian chick?”
“
Oh
yeah,” Ryan scoffed.
“Buzzing around on one of those tiny scooters. Circling the Leaning Tower of Pizza.”
Ryan cracked a cynical smile.
Sawyer straddled the air, riding an imaginary Vespa, his cigarette clinging to the swell of his bottom lip as he lifted his right hand, pageant-waving to an invisible crowd of tourists. “
Ciao, bellas
,” he said, bringing his fingertips to his lips and releasing the kiss into the air.
“I’m sure that’s totally accurate,” Ryan said. “Totally.”
Sawyer shrugged. “Is there anything
else
to do in Italy? Or in Switzerland, you asshole?”
Ryan ignored the dig. “What, other than look like a day-tripper? You’d fit right in,” he said. “Constantly smoking that shit like some hipster.”
Sawyer rolled his eyes. “Europeans are known for their love of nicotine. Just wait until you move into your fancy loft in Zurich, traitor. I’m a lightweight compared to their carton-a-day habit.” Sawyer freely admitted that a pack a day was extreme, but it was a vice he couldn’t seem to shake. “I didn’t smoke on the way up here,” he confessed. “It was glorious. You would have been proud.”
“April making you quit?” Ryan asked as Sawyer took his final drag, grinding the butt against the sole of his boot.
“Please, she can take my life, but she can’t take my smokes.” Reaching into the trunk, Sawyer slung a Timbuk2 backpack over his shoulder. “She’s pretty low maintenance.”
“For now.”
“At least she’s hot.”
“There is that.”
“What’s with Janey’s blonde friend, what’s her name…”
“Lauren.”
“You and her?” Sawyer asked. “You know…” He curled up the fingers of his right hand, thrusting the heel of his palm outward, knocking it against the chill in the air.
“Maybe, you never know…” Ryan smirked.
“She’s cute.”
“So are a lot of other girls.”
“You’ll have to settle down eventually,” he warned. “Scared shitless or not.”
“Yeah?” Ryan asked, hefting a duffel bag full of boarding gear out of the back. “Because that ended well for Jane, right? It’s the fucking Adler curse.”
“Yeah, well, nobody likes a forty-year-old bachelor.”
“You’re right. It’s better to get married and run around behind her back.”
“Now you’re talking.” Sawyer slapped Ryan on the shoulder. “Carry on the family tradition.”
Ryan gave him a look.
“Jesus.” Sawyer laughed. “I’m kidding, man. Come on.”
“I’m not carrying on any tradition unless I get a Vespa.”
“Dude, I’ll buy you a fucking Vespa if only to see the wind in your hair.”
They looked at each other, both of them deadpan.
“If it wasn’t for that stupid earflap hat,” Sawyer continued, “I’d run my fingers through your locks right now.”
“Tonight,” Ryan promised. “After the girls have gone to bed.”
“By the fire?”
“With Jane’s chocolate cake between us. I’ll whip us up a bearskin rug.”
Sawyer let his head loll back, the steam of his breath rising from his throat as he laughed. “Perfect,” he said. “Just don’t complain if I smoke afterward. That, my friend, I cannot help.”
Ryan tossed the bag over a shoulder. “It’s fucking cold out here,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Sawyer reached up to close the Jeep’s hatch when he paused, narrowing his eyes at the trees closest to the driveway. Something
had shifted in the corner of his eye, a shadow drifting behind the trunk of a tree. Glancing up, he watched an army of clouds speed across the sky, the breeze making the trees creak and sway. The sun blinked on and off like a strobe, throwing the pines into shadow one second, brilliant light the next.
“Did you see that?” he asked, motioning to where he’d seen the shift.
“What?” Ryan asked.
“Something was moving around back there.”
“Deer,” Ryan announced. “Lauren and I saw a family wandering around just before you guys pulled up.”
“Just like old times. You sure you can let this beauty go?” Sawyer asked, nodding toward the cabin. “Good memories, great location…”
“I couldn’t buy the house even if I wanted to.”