Page 2 of Save a Wish

In other words, Don’t play without us.

“Will do.” I saluted him then he disappeared, leaving my image as the only one still up on the screen in front of me. Normally, that wouldn’t have bugged me so much. I’d hop off and search for one of my five siblings for some social interaction, but each of them was otherwise engaged today.

Otherwise engaged with a significant other. My sister Vanessa had her husband Spencer, her adopted teenage son Hunter, and her baby boy Little Ben. They were all involved with helping Vanessa set up a showing of her art at a small gallery in town. Well, technically, Little Ben wasn’t helping. He was most likely hanging out and looking adorable.

My brother Logan, and his wife Ashley, were over at Ashley’s rental property getting it ready for some new tenants moving in this week. I could drive over there and help them, but I was feeling particularly lazy today and the two of them moved in high speed when they were on a mission. I’d probably only hold up their progress and then Logan would bust my stones.

My other brothers, twins Isaac and Joshua, had mentioned something about a hiking trip up Mount Jeffries in Granite Cliff National Park with their respective fiancées, Carina and Sylvie, along with Isaac’s five-year-old daughter Amelia.

Darius, my oldest brother, and his fiancée Flora were over in Canville, helping at a wolf sanctuary. They’d actually asked me to tag along before they’d left, but I’d spent last night with Logan and Ashley and I’d had enough of the third-wheel situation.

I, of course, was happy for my siblings. We teased each other, but deep down, we wanted the best for all of us. And my brothers and sister were finding the best, getting married or engaged, making plans for their own families. It was all good.

Even my mother, Beth Hartley, was involved in a relationship. She and Jimmy Slater were together all the time. Some people in Greenridge believed Jimmy to be a serial killer. Some people in my own family believed that too, but I didn’t. The guy may have been sketchy before dating our mother, but he wasn’t anymore. He’d ditched his grisly appearance, gruff personality, and hermit lifestyle to be with Mom and they appeared to be having a great time with each other.

I’d basically accepted Jimmy’s role as our mother’s boyfriend, but even I had been a bit panicked when Darius, Flora, and I had spotted the man down on one knee in front of Mom. It had been after a dedication ceremony for a nature trail at Hartley’s Nest last month. I’d been prepared to call Jimmy Papa right up until I’d thought he was actually trying to become a part of the Hartley family. I’d deemed myself open-minded when it came to the potential serial killer attaching himself to our mother, but seeing him in a proposal stance had brought some protective instincts racing to the surface.

Fortunately, Jimmy had only been wiping some muck off Mom’s shoes after walking on the nature trail. He hadn’t been proposing.

But would he soon? If the number of proposals issued and fiancées waltzing around Hartley’s Nest was any indication, yeah, he would soon. The question was whether or not Mom would accept.

We’d all have to stay tuned to see how that unfolded, and I’d try my best to be the first to congratulate them when it happened. For today, however, even Mom and Jimmy weren’t available to hang out because they were picking up lumber for some benches slated for installation along the new nature trail. Jimmy and Logan were hoping to get them built and installed before the weather grew snowy. They’d most likely hit that deadline because they were both skilled woodworkers and we had a few weeks before Vermont got dusted with the white stuff.

Taking off my headphones and setting them on my desk, I rocked back in my chair then swiveled to face a window in my office. The October autumn colors were in full swing out there with orange, red, and yellow painting the landscape. Hartley’s Nest sported natural beauty no matter the season, but fall was definitely my favorite. I liked running on wooded trails in the early morning, and seeing sunshine quietly illuminate the harvest colors was a real treat.

It’d be nice to run with someone and share the breathtaking views, but so far, I hadn’t had any luck in finding such a running partner. I tried dating the old-fashioned way, but many—too many—of the women in Greenridge had been involved with one or more of my older brothers. Being the last of the Hartley boys meant opportunities to meet women who hadn’t interacted in some form with my brothers were slim. I didn’t want their leftovers, and if these females were into the more rugged, hands-on, mountain men type, I wasn’t going to be a good choice for them anyway. I was the shortest of the Hartley brothers at six feet tall, which wasn’t tiny, but I always felt small when standing with the rest of them. I was fit and muscular from running and lifting, but not as solid as the others. My brown hair, brown beard, and brown eyes made me look related to the brothers that sported the same, but I took a bit more time to style my hair, shape my beard, and my clothes were more fashionable and fitted.

I still wore flannel like my brothers though because . . . well . . . flannel. Comfy and warm were two attributes essential for Vermont living and flannel embodied them both. I might get escorted out of the state completely if I didn’t agree to wear flannel. I definitely didn’t want to leave the wooded, mountainous area where I’d lived my entire life.

Even if the pool of women was shallow. After too many failed attempts to meet women out and about, I’d turned to meeting potential mates online. I was always in my home office, handling the finances and business side of Hartley’s Nest, as that was my specific role in the family business. My computer, tablet, or phone was never too far from my fingertips so being online was second nature to me. I’d gone on a few dates with women whose profiles appeared to be perfect matches to my own and what I was searching for in a partner.

Appeared being the operative word. I’d met far too many women whose profiles were nothing but lies. So. Many. Lies. While my profile was one hundred percent true, I kept finding that the women’s profiles were almost completely fabricated.

These women claimed to love running, but they couldn’t keep up or worse, they wouldn’t even agree to go running with me.

They waxed poetic about wildlife, but when I took them to Hartley’s Nest, they were not at all amazed by the animals we helped here.

They listed their favorite movies, but they couldn’t have a critical conversation about the cinematography of them. Because they hadn’t actually watched any of them.

They mentioned video games they loved, but when I set them up to play, it soon became clear they’d never held a controller in their hands.

I didn’t know why these women felt they had to lie in their profiles, but it was getting on my nerves. Recently, I’d clicked on a few profiles only to find that the picture was also fake. I didn’t need a woman who took movie-star quality headshots, but their pictures should resemble the real-life them, shouldn’t they? Mine did. What you saw was what you got. Pure and simple.

I leaned forward now and grabbed my phone off my desk. I opened the Cyber Mates dating app and scrolled through a few profiles that had expressed an interest in connecting with me.

“Tori Flanagan,” I read aloud as I perused the profile of a woman with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She was beautiful until my gaze rested on the six fingers she had on her left hand—a clear indication the photo had been generated by low-quality AI. “Skip.”

I swiped over to another profile where the first sentence of the woman’s profile said she grew up on a horse farm in Vermont and competed nationally in show jumping. Her picture looked authentic with her in riding pants, boots, and a helmet.

“Okay, Diana Westerfield, let’s see about you.” After a few minutes of online searching on my phone and no results turning up a Diana Westerfield on any of the common horse competition sites, I deemed her a liar too. “Reject.”

I swiped away from her profile, and after finding falsehoods in four more potential connections, I closed the Cyber Mates app and tossed my phone back onto my desk. Why was it so hard to find a kind, smart, pretty woman my age who also liked running, wildlife, numbers and finance, movies, electronics, and video games?

Although those last two interests sometimes got me in trouble with women. I could admit to having a bit of an obsession with gaming and electronics and gadgets in general. I was easily consumed by them and often lost track of time. My family knew to come and tear me away if they wanted to spend time with me or needed me to do something. Women I dated, however, often didn’t consider it fair to have to compete with my tech toys.

They were probably right, but I first became interested in such toys because of my dad, Benjamin Hartley. He used to take me to the one electronics store in Greenridge on Saturday mornings and he and I would peruse the aisles, foaming at the mouth over the latest and greatest innovations in technology. We’d also drool over the newest video games and have epic battles in these digital worlds we loved.

My dad’s first love was wildlife, hence why he started Hartley’s Nest with my mom, but he had an insatiable appetite for inventions too. I’d inherited that hunger as well, and whenever I held some piece of cool equipment in my hands or played an exceptional, immersive video game, I felt as if my dad was with me.