“She did, three weeks ago,” Phoebe confirms, and I feel a pang of regret for missing out on such a monumental occasion.
“How’s the guy, is he a total nerd?”
“God no. He’s a drop-dead gorgeous mechanic that’s getting his college degree through night school.” Phoebe details with a smile.
“Sounds dreamy,” I taunt, though that pang from before stabs a bit harder.
“You’ll love him, Andy, he’s a really good guy.”
“You say that like I’m going to meet him.” I lean back and cross my arms over my chest. The understanding of how far I am from being a part of the gang’s life and how little of a chance I have of ever regaining my spot in their close-knit group hurts more than I expected it to.
“Do you want to?” Phoebe inquires, mimicking my posture in a way that seems almost defiant.
“I don’t know. I guess so.” What the hell, Atkins? You sound like a petulant child.
“Right,” Phoebe stares at me for a few seconds before changing the subject. “How’s your mom?”
“She’s okay.” Now.
“You’re a shitty liar, Andy.” Phoebe frowns and shakes her head, looking away.
Just then, Gabe returns to the table. He clears his throat, and I silently thank him for his perfect timing.
“Everything okay?” He raises an eyebrow and looks between us.
“Andrew here keeps asking about our friends—” Phoebe begins.
“Your friends,” I correct, receiving a dismissive wave of her hand in my face.
“And then acts like I did something wrong by answering.” Phoebe glares at me for a moment before leaning forward and pointing her finger in my direction. “This, me coming to the Grove, us working together, it’s happening, Andy.”
“I know,” I reply, my tone more defensive than I mean it to be.
“Then, get with the program.” Phoebe moves away to make room for our dishes. “If you have a problem keeping it professional, step down and let Gabe run point, but don’t make a confusing situation worse by zigzagging all over the place. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I reply, barely keeping the smirk off my face.
“Jesus,” Gabe grumbles and shakes his head, not the least bit amused. “She’s right. You can’t seem to settle on if you’re a grumpy ass or an immature flirt.”
“See?” Phoebe smiles in triumph.
“What, so you’re ganging up on me now?” I stare at Gabe accusingly.
“Depends if Gabe can stomach being in a gang with Leanne.” Phoebe turns her attention to Gabe.
“What did you tell her?” Gabe glares at me in anger.
“Nothing!” I protest.
“He said there’s a story,” Phoebe supplies, and Gabe punches my arm with the full intention of causing damage.
“Ouch!” I rub the spot he hit.
“You deserve it!” he snaps.
“I’m a war hero, I shouldn’t be subjected to this kind of treatment,” I retaliate, and Gabe flips me off.
“A war hero, huh?” Phoebe takes a bite from her medium-rare filet, and I look down at my chicken salad, more to avoid her inquisitive gaze than anything.
“Did they confuse our orders?” I wonder, picking up a piece of lettuce.
“You would have known if you would have ordered for yourself.” Phoebe shrugs and takes her sweet time carving out another bite, her eyes fluttering shut and a moan leaving her lips as she chews.
“Now who’s being an unprofessional ass?” I mutter and throw a piece of chicken into my mouth, thankful she at least left the dressing on.
“You can take my salmon, I’m not hungry,” Gabe grumbles.
“That bad of a story?” Phoebe turns her attention to Gabe.
“Not talking about it,” he declares.
“Okay, then.” Phoebe turns to look at me with bewilderment, but I reply with a shrug, digging into Gabe’s dish before he changes his mind. “So, legit war hero?”
“He received the Medal of Honor,” Gabe answers before I can brush it off and change the subject. “Gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of life above and beyond the call of duty.”
“Wow, that’s amazing!” Phoebe beams, but that insistent pit at the bottom of my stomach swallows all the light from the room, and with it, my appetite.
“There’s nothing amazing about what I had to do to earn that ribbon.” I push the salmon away, only half-eaten. There’s a prolonged silence as Phoebe waits for me to continue the story.
“Wow, two men who don’t eat and don’t speak. I won the lottery,” Phoebe snarks, cleaning off her plate and flagging down the waitress again.
“Scotch, neat, preferably Highlands, water on the side,” she requests.
“Make that two, and make mine a double,” Gabe adds, and the waitress turns to me.
“Just a club soda, please.”
“Really?” Phoebe’s eyebrows are arched high. “Since when don’t you drink?”
“Since I came back.” I shrug. There’s another long pause, and in every second of silence, I see Phoebe’s eyes slowly turning steely, cold, detached. And suddenly, talking about the aftermath of my discharge doesn’t seem as bad as letting her slip into indifference. “I tried, but it just brings back the memories. You know, like the song?”
“The Maroon 5 song?” Phoebe’s eyes examine me with interest.
“That’s the one.” I smile ruefully, starting to regret not ordering that drink. “They hit the nail on the head with that one, I could have written it myself, word to word.”
“It’s a good song. I don’t remember all the words, though.” Phoebe frowns, lines etching her forehead as she thinks. “I’ll listen to it when I get home.”
“If you want to.” I shrug again, trying to seem uninterested though my heart is pounding. “We should talk about The Lantern.”
“Yes,” Gabe agrees, accepting his drink and gesturing us with a toast before taking a gulp. “How much longer do you need to get stuff ironed out here?”
“A couple of weeks, probably.” Phoebe leans back and sips her scotch. “I want to fly back with you guys and do some recon, figure out the extent of work needed and then get back here, give Hirsch a detailed report. Then I’ll return to the Grove for as long as I’m needed.”
Her gaze turns momentarily to me when she says that last sentence, and I can’t tear my eyes away from the soft clouds coloring her irises. Every fiber in my body wants to go to her, hold her, and never let her go.
“Sounds good,” Gabe agrees. “I’ll book us tickets for Wednesday. It’ll give you a long weekend to get a good look. You can then take time to get your cases and whatever else in order before coming back.”
“Perfect.” Phoebe nods. “Will I need to rent a place, or is The Lantern Lodge in a livable state?”
“It’s maintained well enough for a comfortable stay, and in any case, you’ll be staying in Claire’s attached cabin,” Gabe provides. “It’s small but well equipped. You’ll have everything you need and then some, and it’s homier than taking a guest room.”