7
Ian
I was a lucky son of a b***h. I pretty much always had been. A lot of things came easily to me. Girls, work, life. I had a great job and lived in one of the most beautiful places in the world.
But a week without Blake was seriously making me think I wasn’t as lucky as I once thought I was. I was cranky and in general a pain in the a*s. I was even annoyed with myself.
Which was why it wasn’t a big surprise when my dad walked in my door mid-morning on Monday.
“Hey, son,” he said in his trademark no-nonsense tone that set my teeth on edge.
I loved my dad. We’d always had a good relationship. Finley and our mom were close, and my dad and I were close. He was the person I talked to about starting Jameson Wooden Boats, and pretty much every other major decision of my life.
“Morning,
