Page 49 of Her Ex-Husband's Brother

I am in so much trouble, I think.

And then scurry out to my car.

TWELVE

LENNON

The content is genuinely good.

I’ve been staring at the screen for twenty minutes telling myself this objectively, the way I’d tell a client.

Ithinkbecause it’s true and not just because I want it to be true. I’m sitting cross-legged on my bunk in Raven’s RV with my laptop on my knees and the twinkle lights overhead making all the pictures I’m editing seem that much more magical.

With most of my clients I’m working with pics they snapped themselves. I rarely get to be so involved in the process from set-up to taking the pictures myself.

August’s grid is going to bedevastating.

I’ve got a hundred and forty-seven photos sorted into a first batch—the portraits from last night in black and white, along with action shots from this morning. Close-ups on August’s hands holding the needle, the jaw-angle shot where the light catches the neck tattoo just so, and the picture he took of my finished Medusa last night.

I’ve written captions that are professional but also make you feel like you’re being let into something private. That’s the whole trick of good content. Capturing authenticity without being cheesy, or losing it in the attempt of the capture. It’s a fine line to walk, but when you get it right…magic.

Of course it helps when the content itself is so amazing. And August’s work is just… I can’t stop looking at my forearm in awe when I think no one’s watching.

I’m not thinking about him.

I’m thinking about hisbrand.

“Okay so.” Raven drops onto the bunk across from me with a bowl of cereal and the energy of someone who has been waiting patiently for as long as possible before grilling me. “Tell me everything.”

Raven has an ink-black faux hawk, bright, colorful ear plugs, and multiple face piercings, and is wearing a baggy T-shirt and baggy shorts that hang down to their knees.

“About what?” I say, eyes still on my laptop.

“About what.” Raven repeats this back to me in a tone of profound disbelief. “Lennon. You just spent the entire day at August’s tattoo shop. You came home with fresh ink and a million photos of the park’s resident hottie on your phone?—”

“For hisbrand?—”

“— and you’ve been staring at your screen with that face for twenty minutes.”

I look up. “What face?”

Raven points their spoon at me. “Thatface.”

“I don’t have a face.”

“You have so much face right now.” They eat a spoonful of cereal. “The whole park is going to want to know. Linda’s already asked me twice.”

I groan. “My mother needs a hobby.”

“Your mother has seventeen hobbies, that’s not her problem.” Raven tucks their feet underneath them. “Now, spill.August.”

They say his name like it’s a complete sentence, which in the context of this small community, apparently it is. “Do you understand that man is basically the resident sexy cryptid of this place? He’s been here two years and we’ve collectively gathered approximately four facts about him.”

“What are the four facts?”

Raven counts on their fingers. “Extremely tall. Extensively tattooed. Swims in the cold pool at night like some kind of feral merman. And—” They pause for effect— “will occasionally appear in the plaza to fix things for people without being asked and then disappear without accepting thanks.”

I look up from my laptop.