Unless Boone got lucky and it rained.
Fresh out of the shower, his hair was still damp, and he was glad for it. Not much had changed in the modest bungalow he’d grown up in, and the blinds had been pulled down to keep out the kind of muggy heat July brought with it.
He shook his head and frowned. His mom was stubborn as hell and refused to let him install AC in the place, even though he’d been after her for the last month or so. His mother wasn’t having it. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t afford it. He’d made more money than he’d ever need playing football, and the least he could do was update this place. Hell, even the carpet was the same. There was a stain in the corner from years ago when Nash Booker spilled an entire glass of cherry whiskey on it. In a panic because Boone knew he’d catch hell from his father, they’d moved the chair to cover it up. In the end, it only bought him two days’ reprieve, and then all hell broke loose.
Boone closed the door and glanced around, pushing the bad memories away. His mother was stubborn as hell and clung to the past with a tenacity that was surprising, considering how dark that past was.
“There you are.” Elise Avery walked into the house from the backyard, her blonde hair pinned up in a loose knot on top of her head. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright, and a soft smile filled a face Boone would walk through fire for. She wore a pair of faded old jean shorts and a simple white T-shirt that said Not Today in black letters.
At forty-seven years of age, his mother didn’t look much older than she had the day she’d turned forty. Though he supposed she’d always look young in his eyes. Considering she was seventeen when she had him, he’d grown up with the youngest mother of any of his pals. At one time or another, all of them had crushed on Elise Avery hard. She had the kind of beauty that could have taken her from this town, but an unplanned pregnancy and his roadblock of a father put that to rest before it could start.
It was a damn shame she lived her life like it was over.
“There’s my favorite little man,” she said as Benji ran toward her and was immediately scooped up into her embrace. She smiled over his head at Boone, and he walked over and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
“I just finished weeding the back garden and am about to barbecue.” She arched a brow. “Are you having dinner with Benji and me?”
“I’m meeting the guys at the Coach House for beer and wings.”
“Good. I’m glad you’ve reconnected with them.” Her eyes softened. “I suppose you’re heading downtown afterward?”
He nodded. “That’s the plan. Booker’s got a sitter.”
“How’s Cam doing these days?” His mother opened the fridge and handed an expectant Benji a cold soda before helping herself to one.
“Good.”
“And the baby?”
“She’s getting big.” His eyes rested on Benji, who was greedily and loudly downing the soda can in one big gulp. Didn’t seem that long ago his own kid was in diapers.
Elise ran her hands through Benji’s thick mop of hair. “Aren’t they all?” she murmured.
Benji swiped at the corner of his mouth and looked up at his grandmother. “Look what I got.” He held up a little figurine.
“What the heck is that?” Elise asked, scrunching up her eyes as she took a closer look.
“It’s a gargoyle.” Benji held it higher. “Poppy told me it was used to get rid of the bad guys, like a long time ago or something.”
“It’s pretty scary-looking,” she replied, glancing toward Boone questioningly, but he just shrugged in response.
“It’s hot in here,” Benji complained.
“You’ll get used to it.” With a no-nonsense voice Boone knew all too well, his mother pointed to the stairs. “The basement is cold, so you can stash your things down there for now, and later tonight, you and I are sleeping outside in the tent.”
“Wow! Really?” Benji turned to Boone. “Did you hear that, Daddy?”
Boone nodded and told his son to head downstairs. As a kid, how many nights had he laid out under the stars with his mother while his dad slept off a drunken mood? At the time, he’d thought of it as an adventure, only realizing when he got older it had been a way to keep him safe from a man with a heart as black as tar and a temper to match.
“I should go,” Boone said, giving his mother a hug. “Thanks for watching him tonight. His buddy has a nasty summer cold, and he was pretty disappointed his plans got canceled until you called.”
“I love watching him,” she murmured, leaning against the counter. “He’s so like you.”
“Yeah?” Personally, Boone thought Benji looked a hell of a lot like his mother, Amber.
“One hundred percent.” She smiled, her expression changing a bit as she studied him. “When did you run into Poppy Fairbanks?”
He cleared his throat and shrugged. “I was down at the river with Benji, and he needed to use the bathroom, so I sent him over to that boutique across from the boardwalk. When I went to get him, she was there.” He paused, thinking he should keep quiet, but wanting to know more. “Does she own it?”
“She does. Bella & Hooch is hands down the loveliest shop in Crystal Lake. I swear you can buy pretty much anyone a gift from that store.” Elise’s brow furrowed. “She opened it when she got back from Los Angeles several years ago.”
“LA?”
“Yes. She went there after graduation. Wanted to be an actress, I think Serena said.”
Damn. She’d really done it. “How long’s she been back?”
“A few years now.” She chuckled, though it died quietly. “I have a feeling there’s more of a story to her return.” She glanced up at him. “No different from yours, I suppose. It’s funny how Crystal Lake has a habit of calling back her own.”
The past wasn’t something Boone liked to revisit. He gave his mother one last kiss and called down to his son. “I’m outta here, Benji. You be good for your nana, and I’ll see you for breakfast in the morning.”
Ten minutes later, he walked into the dark, cool recesses of what was, without a doubt, a landmark for all the kids who’d grown up in Crystal Lake. It was a rite of passage to get served your first beer in the place—doubly so if you managed it while underage. The Coach House sat at the edge of town, down near the river, with a stand of trees one hundred yards thick to border it. The parking lot was still a minefield of potholes, and the old sign out front was just as crooked as it had been when he was a teen.
Boone smiled. He liked that it hadn’t changed a bit, not even when Nash Booker bought it a few years back. He spotted the guys sitting at the bar and headed over, giving a quick wave to Nash as he did so. Cam’s brother was on his way into the kitchen, chatting up his wife, Honey, who had a little boy wrapped around her like he was a monkey.
“What’s up with Nash?” Boone asked as he slid onto a barstool beside Nash’s brother. On the other side of Cam sat Wyatt Blackwell and Link Major. Cam and Wyatt, Boone had known since they were kids, but the Brit was new to Crystal Lake. They’d met a few times, made small talk the way guys do, but other than the fact he was a fellow athlete, Boone didn’t have much in common with the man. Rumor had it he was heir to some fortune across the pond, his family being one of the aristocratic types.