“Geor-gi-a-na.”
“Fine, where’s Georgiana?”
“Dunno.” I’m such an asshole. I left my girl to fend for herself in a city where she knows nobody. I feel for my phone, but then recall that I’m dressed in the comforter and haven’t seen my phone since…ugh. My headache jams in my head and I’m going to be sick as a dog in two seconds flat. With a groan, I make it to the toilet in time.
“Heck, Raiden.” Hunter is right behind me. “Bit too old for this shit, aren’t you?”
“Never too old to drink yourself into oblivion, brother, as you still need to learn.”
“Piss off. Why aren’t you in Boston?”
“Got dis-qua-li-fied. Whatever you do, don’t bother to go to the convention. And spread the word, will you?”
This shuts him up. Hunter looks as if he got whacked on the side of the head with a canoe paddle. “Disqualified? Why?”
“You should ask Georgiana.”
He reaches into the shower and turns on the cold water. “Get in there and sober up.”
“It’s going to take more than a shower.”
“I’ll make you lunch.”
“What time is it?”
“Three PM.”
Ugh. Another one bites the dust. I get into the shower and let the icy water eat at my skin for a good ten minutes. It doesn’t help with the headache, but I feel less stale when I step out to get dressed in my room. I stare at the closet mirror—bloodshot eyes, dark circles draining into my beard. Yeah, this isn’t a good look. Thank God she isn’t going to see me like this. I haven’t been this low in six, seven years?
When I finally make my way to the kitchen, the smell of frying eggs and bacon churns my stomach through the hunger pangs. I need coffee. Hunter hands me a cup as I lean against the counter. He’s efficient in the kitchen, having helped first Mom with the twins and Aunt May from day one when we moved into the farmhouse. As the oldest of our extended troupe of kids, Hunter took caring for the little ones in his stride. He’s been looking after everybody ever since, trying to make up for not being part of that horrid day.
“Advil.” Hunter hands me two capsules and pushes a glass of water in my direction.
“Thanks.”
He flips the eggs over and plucks the toast out of the toaster onto a plate. “Now tell me exactly what happened.”
My headache pulses at the mere thought of going there, but Hunter will interrogate me until the whole story is out, so I download a brief description of yesterday’s events.
“I can’t believe it.” Hunter stands frozen across from me, spatula midair, eggs steaming on the plate he has in his hand. “I’ve never heard of Veronique Wess before.”
“Neither have I, but she used to have a renovation show on the Home Channel years ago.”
“You met her?”
“No, but she was there. Mother and daughter…seeing them together…they could be twins.” The draining shock of everything that happened washes through me again.
“And Georgiana had no idea?”
“She only learned about it yesterday morning. She hasn’t spoken to her folks since she came to Vermont.”
At this, Hunter raises his eyebrows and I know what he’s thinking. Who doesn’t speak to their folks while they’re still around? He hands me my breakfast and fishes a beer out of the fridge. I lead the way outside to the firepit and we settle together in silence, staring at the lake.
Life teaches you to stomach a lot of things, but the Logan brothers don’t understand how relationships between parents and their kids can deteriorate to a point where nobody speaks to anybody anymore. I might have run away from Uncle Bill and Aunt May, but I was speaking to them three days later, as soon as Cash got hold of me by the scruff and forced the phone next to my ear. But now that I’ve seen how ruthless Veronique Wess can be, I know better. I see how people become estranged.
I’m done with my breakfast and am starting to feel like a human again when Hunter turns to me. “I’m sorry for this mess. You had high hopes for this and the way it’s ended—it’s unnecessary.”
“Yeah.”