Was it also one of the most moving moments of my adult life, having not one, but two incredible people choose me, openly and proudly, by making it official and declaring their commitment to me?
“Hell fucking yes.” I whispered and caught Goldie as she lunged at me, happy and excited with her infectious glee.
All the way, yes.
The sunset was turningthe clouds into amber swirls, the way that teased a warm summer coming, but it was still just out of reach as the temperature dipped with the sun.
Gravel crunched under my boots as I walked up the empty driveway to the large shop hidden behind the trees. The huge overhead bay door was half open, and the sound of sandpaper on smooth wood drifted out into the night.
Brooks Restoration Serviceswas painted over the door, and I felt the same sense of familial pride I always did when I walked into my brother’s hard-earned heaven.
Lucas was bent over the hull of a classic Chris-Craft boat, smoothing down the restored wood one slow, smooth stroke at a time. He was the oldest of us Brooks brothers, and by far the wisest.
Which was why I had wandered my way up to his secluded property with idle hands and a busy mind.
“The door was open,” I said as I walked in, announcing myself. An old FM radio played some classic cowboy song through the space.
“Always is for you,” he replied, steady as ever. “Unless it’s snowing sideways. And then you have to use the customer entrance.”
I walked deeper into the shop, hands in my jeans pockets, as the calm of the space instantly relaxed my shoulders. Lucas was in his mid-forties, with two teenage kids and a wife who was more of a saint than a woman, and his shop was his perfect hideaway from the rest of life. He was simply like that in a way, choosing quiet and hard work over modern-day chaos.
“Are you busy?” I asked after a beat.
Finally, he glanced up from the hull with eyes that looked a hell of a lot like mine, steady and true. “Door wouldn’t have been open if I were.”
That was Lucas in a nutshell. If he made space for you, it was intentional.
Everything he did was like that. He didn’t speak or chime into anything unless it was important, and growing up, I knew early on that he always said far more with way fewer words than anyone else. It was a trait he learned from my dad before he passed when I was a teenager.
“Mom said you were working on a special project for the town,” I dallied, nodding to the boat. “Is this it?”
“It’s part of their anniversary celebration this summer. They’re going to show off pictures of the progress at the charity hockey tournament to build excitement for the reveal.” He replied, eyes on the grain as he went back to sanding.
“That’s nice,” I agreed, crossing my ankles as I leaned back at the workbench. “Good for the town.”
“Hmm,” he hummed nonchalantly. “Mom said you were leading some Townhall meetings lately,” he glanced at me from the corner of his eye without stopping the steady glide of sanding. “That you had someone special up there with you when you did.”
“Are you more surprised that I was taking part in something important, or that I had someone with me?” I asked, although I knew the answer.
“I wasn’t surprised at all,” he replied. “You never do anything unintentionally.”
I smirked to myself at his non-answer and then dived right into it.
“I’m seeing someone.” I started.
“Hmm.” He said.
I rubbed my hand over the back of my neck. “Two people, actually.”
Lucas wiped his hands in a rag, slowly and methodically, before turning to face me, leaning back on the boat behind him. “Mom might have mentioned that too.”
I rolled my eyes at the way my mom always knew everything before anyone could fess up to it. I guess with six sons, she had gotten good at it over the years.
“It’s Goldie James.” I said, and he stared at me, unblinking. “And Rhea Dalton.”
Still, no reaction. “Is it serious?”
Nodding slowly, “Yeah, it is.”