Travis (Pelion Lake) by Mia Sheridan

I began reaching for the folder of papers, but pulled my hand away. I ran my palms over my thighs.

“How long did it take for you to fall in love with Bree?” I blurted out, instead of the, my mother found some interesting documents, that had sat cold and heavy in my mouth like a handful of pebbles from the lake’s floor.

An amused smile twitched the corners of Archer’s mouth. He raised his hands. Five minutes? Maybe less.

I chuckled softly. “That long, huh?” I paused. “I guess it really does happen that way sometimes,” I murmured.

He considered me for a moment, leaning forward. Honestly? You’d probably know better than me. He smiled. I was a special case.

I breathed out a smile, a flicker of sadness causing it to die quickly. I was a special case, he’d said. But by the look on his face, that particular description of who he’d once been didn’t cause him any distress. He even looked more than a little proud of it.

Even more profound—and somewhat gutting for reasons that made me feel deeply humbled—he’d answered my question honestly and without rubbing my nose in the fact that I, the supposed legendary Travis Hale, was asking the once-upon-a-time town hermit for relationship advice, whether he realized that’s what I was doing or not.

How the tables had turned.

In so many ways.

“I think I’m a special case too when it comes to women,” I murmured. And probably regarding many other subjects too lengthy and complicated to bring up at the moment. As far as women though, I either picked the ones who were too available, or not available at all. Apparently. Archer eyed me curiously, but waited for me to continue. “How did you know you were in love?” I asked, more curious about Archer now, than my own situation. We’d never talked about these things, about his story once Bree Prescott had come to town and changed everything for him. “Especially considering you were a special case? How did you trust yourself?”

He tilted his head, his eyes moving to the lake in front of us. At the time, I didn’t completely trust myself. I knew how I felt, but I questioned whether I had anything to offer her. He paused, his eyes returning to me. But she made me want to become the man she deserved. She made me braver, and stronger. Because of her, I wanted to be the best version of myself. And that, I think, is what love does, if it’s really love.

I nodded, feeling strangely choked up, wondering if I even knew who the best version of myself might be. Could be.

He leaned forward just a bit, his gaze unfocused, as if staring into the past. I had this vision of what a future with her might look like . . . He paused, his hands hanging in the air for a moment. Kids. A family. Things I’d never dared dream of before. His eyes met mine. It was so clear in my head, but the reality . . . well . . . I had no idea how we might get there, but I knew I wanted it more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life. And I’d spent my life wanting.

I swallowed, looking away. I’d spent my life wanting.

When I saw Archer raising his hands in my peripheral vision, I looked back at him. He had a teasing glint in his eye. And then there was the sex—

“Don’t tell me about the sex.”

His grin was slow. It was a Hale grin. I saw our father in it. I laughed, the awkward, overly emotional moment ending, something for which we were both—I could tell—grateful.

His smile dwindled, expression going thoughtful. Uncle Nathan told me once that when Hale men fall in love, it’s quick and it’s forever. It was true for me.

It’d been true for our father and uncles too.

And because of it, things had gone so terribly wrong.

The weight of that thought hung heavy inside me.

“Uncle Nate was kind of a nut, though,” I reminded.

Yes. He absolutely was. Archer smiled, but there was deep affection in his eyes.

I chuckled softly. We sat in silence, but it was comfortable.

I should go see what’s taking Bree so long, Archer said after a moment, standing. Do you want anything while I’m up at the house?

“No, I’m good. Thanks. And, Archer . . . thanks.”

He nodded once, turned, and headed toward the cottage where I could hear the distant rise and fall of the boys’ exuberant and constant commentary as Bree did whatever Bree was doing.

The fire had died down a bit. I picked up one of the logs sitting next to the fire pit and added it gingerly, watching as the flame leapt and licked at the new piece of wood, the kindling having no choice but to let itself be consumed.

Things had gone so terribly wrong for our father and uncles.

My brother had offered me insight I hardly deserved from the generosity of his heart. And what I was considering doing would deftly lodge a wedge between us again, reversing any sense of brotherhood we’d gained over these last eight years.

You either lose it all, or lose it all.

Maybe there were many different sorts of losing.

And we each had to weigh our choices.

Choose which hand to discard so that we might win the bigger pot.

Something stirred inside me, a feeling of rightness that I had no way of describing other than that.

Before I could overthink it, or talk myself out of it, I leaned back in my chair and grabbed the file containing the original copy of the amendment to the town bylaws that might have resulted in Archer and me facing each other down in a courtroom. I dropped it on the fire and watched as it curled and blackened and moments later, turned to nothing but ash. Gone forever. Lost.