After All

by McLaughlin, Heidi

  The group of friends walked down the street, huddled together. Bowie and Austin led the pack, talking animatedly about their trucks and how they couldn’t wait to have enough money saved so they could buy a lift kit. The girls were in the middle of the group. Brooklyn, Monroe, and Mila, all dressed up as if they were heading out for a night in the city. Behind them were Grady and Graham Chamberlain, twin brothers whose parents owned the local watering hole, the Whale Spout. Graham had big plans to leave town after graduation. He wanted to travel, explore the world until he decided on a place to live. Of course, he had yet to choose a career that would allow this and figured he’d pick up odd jobs in each city, state, and country he visited and hitchhike to save money. Grady, on the other hand, wanted to own a fleet of fishing vessels. That was Austin’s intent as well. The two of them had created a business plan and even thought of a name: the Chamberwoods Fishing Company. Brooklyn had other ideas. She wanted to head back to Seattle, even Portland, and become a labor and delivery nurse. Her roots weren’t in Cape Harbor, and she couldn’t see herself staying here. That was something Austin couldn’t understand.

  After arriving at the house party, Austin walked right in, and the room parted as if he were Moses and this were the Red Sea. Everyone stopped what they were doing, just to say hello to him, and he ate up every bit of the attention. If the group thought they could follow Austin through the room, they were mistaken, as a mass of people closed in around their favorite person. Within seconds, there was a beer in his hand and introductions made to the people he didn’t know . . . all while his girlfriend looked on.

  She hated these parties. She hated everything they represented. She hated that they would fight later. She hated how insecure they made her feel. She hated how he flirted, how no one cared that she was in the room. Most of all, she hated that Austin ignored her. Even though she came with him, she wanted to be home. However, staying home meant a night of pacing and waiting for the phone to ring, even though he wouldn’t leave the party to call her. One time she was late to a party, and when she walked in, Austin was in the corner with another girl. He said nothing happened. She believed him. It wasn’t like she could prove otherwise, and no one would ever come forward to say anything ill against him. Her only choice for her peace of mind was to put herself through the agony of being at the party. It was the only way to know if he was faithful. This wasn’t how she expected their relationship to be, though, because when it was just them, he was the perfect boyfriend.

  Bowie wanted to shake Austin. More so, he wanted Austin to wake up and realize what he was doing to Brooklyn. Brooklyn was, without a doubt, the most beautiful girl in school. Strike that—she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and he felt the only reason she was with Austin was because he happened to see her first. If the roles were reversed, Bowie wouldn’t drag her to any parties. He’d take her out to a nice restaurant for dinner or on one of the boat cruises. They’d go whale watching or drive along the coast. He’d take her out on his boat and hold her while the sun set over the Pacific. He’d cherish her. But instead, he was forced to watch from afar. He watched as his best friend treated the woman of Bowie’s dreams like a toy. It wasn’t that Bowie wanted Austin to share. No, he wanted Brooklyn for himself.

  He found her sitting on the back stoop, looking out over the fenced yard where couples lay together, making out under the stars. It wasn’t the best place, but when you were a teenager, you took what you could get. Bowie handed her a beer, popping the top for her so she knew it was fresh. He loved that she held tight to her “I’ll get my own drinks” rule, out of fear someone might slip her a mickey or something. Bowie would kill them if that ever happened.

  “Do you want to go sit on the swing?” He nodded toward the large oak tree where a bench swing hung. If anything, sitting there would give them a bit of privacy, and she wouldn’t have to listen to anyone from inside the house going gaga over Austin. Brooklyn led the way, and Bowie waited until she sat before he took the spot next to her. The swing was old and worn out, but the chains were brand new. His father was a general contractor, and Bowie often accompanied him to jobs. The expectation was that Bowie would follow in his father’s footsteps, take over the family business, but Bowie wasn’t sure he wanted to. Bowie had ideas of grandeur. He wanted to go to school to be an architect. He wanted to build skyscrapers in cities like Los Angeles, New York, and Chicago. He wanted an apartment overlooking a metropolis and a home along the beach—neither of which he’d be able to afford working at his father’s company. Mostly, he thought about following Brooklyn to college. He knew it was stupid to think about his best friend’s girl like that, but he couldn’t help it.

  Bowie’s foot pushed the swing back and forth, keeping them at a slow pace. Brooklyn held her can of beer in her hands, never taking a sip. She wasn’t much of a drinker, at least not at these parties. When it was just their group of friends, she’d let loose and drink. He hated it, though, because when she did, she and Austin were like these other couples, making out in front of everyone without a care in the world. As much as he hated to admit it, he liked these parties because they gave him private time with Brooklyn. Eventually, he hoped he would get over this crush. She was new in town, a rarity, and in time he expected his feelings to subside.

  “Do you have plans for Christmas?” he asked her. She had only been in town for a few months. He knew she missed Seattle. She talked about it a lot. Her friends, the school she went to, and how their homecoming dance was at the convention center in one of the conference rooms, and how she had the ability to go to the mall without having to plan a day trip.

  “My dad gave the staff the day before and day after off, so I’ll probably have to work.”

  “Does he let you give shots or do stitches?”

  Brooklyn laughed. He loved the way she sounded. He also loved her smile. It could change his outlook on a crappy day, anytime. “I’ve given a couple of flu shots, but I’m really nervous that I’m going to hurt someone. I’ll learn a better technique once I’m in nursing school.”

  “You can always practice on me,” he told her as he bumped his shoulder with hers.

  “Thanks. I might take you up on that. What about your plans?”

  Bowie shook his head. “My entire family lives within twenty miles of here. We all meet at my grandparents’. The women cook, the men do macho things like repair parts of the house that don’t need it, and the grandkids play video games, get in the way, and play football outside, ruining our church clothes.”

  “Sounds like a lot of fun, actually.”

  “You should come. One more mouth to feed won’t make a difference.”

  She looked back at the house and sighed. Was she wondering what her boyfriend was doing, who he was with? Did she know that the Woodses hosted big holiday feasts and that Austin would be busy? He wished she would break up with him. Bowie wanted a chance with her, and as bad as it sounded, he knew he was better for her than Austin was.

  “You can bring your family. We have enough for everyone,” Bowie said. He wanted her at his grandparents’ house with him. He wanted to hear her laugh at his dad’s dumb jokes.

  Brooklyn stared at Bowie. “Why are you so nice to me?”

  He shrugged. The answer was on the tip of his tongue. He could tell her right now it was because he was in love with her, but he could never say that aloud. “Because you’re a cool chick,” he said, instantly regretting his words. “What I mean is, you’re fun to hang out with.”

  “But Austin’s in there.” She pointed toward the house. “Monroe, Mila, Grady, and Graham are all in the house with him. And you’re always with me. Does he send you out to babysit or something?”

  Bowie felt his stomach drop. He thought about storming into the house and punching his friend for putting these thoughts into her head, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. Austin would just charm his way out of the situation and make Bowie look like a fool.

  “I’m not much of a partier,” he told h
er. “I come because it’s what we do.”

  “I come because I’m afraid he will cheat on me if I don’t.”

  Bowie shook his head. “He wouldn’t do that.”

  She peered sharply at him, her eyebrow raised. “How could you be so sure?”

  “Just something I know, is all.” Bowie sighed. He wanted to move closer to her, press his thigh against her. He desperately wanted to know what her skin felt like. Instead he stayed where he was, with one arm draped over the back of the swing and his hand holding the can of beer to his leg.

  “You probably wonder why I stay with him or why I let him act this way. Sometimes I ask myself the same questions or imagine if I hadn’t met him on my first day what I would be doing now. Maybe I’d be inside dancing with some other guy, or at home studying. But when I think like that, my heart hurts. It hurts so bad that I want to cry. I’m in love with that stupid boy in there, and he has no idea how much. Sometimes, I feel like he tells me he loves me because it’s the safest thing to say. I just want him to see me.”

  In that moment, Austin stepped out onto the back steps. His eyes roamed the yard until they landed on Brooklyn. At the same time, a smile broke out on both of their faces. She got up, without saying goodbye to Bowie, and made her way to Austin. As soon as she was within arm’s reach, Austin pulled her to him, kissing her deeply. The couple walked back into the party, leaving Bowie alone.

  “I see you, Brooklyn,” he mumbled into the darkness.

  EIGHT

  As far as standoffs went, the one happening between Brooklyn and Bowie could go down in history. Neither was willing to move, to even budge, and the only things lacking were witnesses, who had both deserted and sought cover inside the home. If Brooklyn hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought this was a setup, a ploy to get two former friends back together. But Carly had no idea what she was doing, what kind of hell she was creating for Brooklyn. To someone like Carly, this was as innocent as donating money to a homeless person.

  Brooklyn wished she hadn’t taken off her sunglasses. Behind their darkened lenses she could hide, she could remain mysterious, but something had compelled her to remove them. She wanted—no, she needed—to see those radiant blue eyes of Bowie’s that she remembered. Only, they held no life, no expression. They were icy, harsh, angry, and pinned on hers.

  Over the years, she had dealt with confrontation of all kinds. Homeowners who were upset with her work or who changed their minds hours before the job would be complete. Contractors who added unnecessary beams or walls that would change her design completely. There were the men who wanted more from her even though she was clear from the beginning—she was married to her job. Brooklyn could handle her own quite easily; she had learned from the best. And until now, she’d thought she had seen it all. But the anger in Bowie’s eyes, coupled with confusion, was uncharted territory for her. Her eyes diverted, and she stepped back. Bowie was close. Far too close for a friendly game of “nice to see you again.” As much as she’d tried to forget, images of the last time she’d seen him replayed in her mind. His outstretched hand, the words he said to her—all came flooding back. She felt sick to her stomach. She shouldn’t be here. She should’ve told Carly no, but deep down she felt like she owed the woman.

  She focused every which way but on Bowie. Everything interested her right now: the torn-up driveway, the gutters that had accumulated fallen leaves that needed to be taken care of, and the cars that continuously drove up the road, bypassing the inn and essentially forgetting about the woman who lived there. Very few people lived on this road, so where were they going? And who were they? People who considered themselves friends of Austin’s? The same friends that left his mother alone for years? She may have left after his funeral, but at least she had her reasons. What were theirs?

  Her wandering eyes finally turned toward the carriage house, where her daughter was. She wasn’t ready to explain Brystol to anyone, let alone Bowie. She’d figured out after her encounter with Monroe at the store earlier that no one knew she had a daughter. Yet another mystery when it came to Carly. She was starting to question what went on here during the summers, and whether Carly ever left the house. Brystol never complained when she would come back to wherever Brooklyn was working, always telling her mom that she’d had the best time with her grandparents. Brooklyn always assumed Carly was part of that statement. They were close, Brystol and Carly. “Thick as thieves” was what Simone called them. And yet, while she stood there, she mentally kicked her own ass for not prodding her daughter for more information. She should’ve been adult enough to deal with the pain. If Brystol had told her that her grandmother lived the life of a recluse, Brooklyn would’ve done something sooner. What she really needed to do was talk to her parents. How come they never mentioned anything when they came to pick Brystol up for the summer?

  She chanced a look at Bowie. That was a mistake. His penetrating gaze made her already upset stomach twist into knots. He tilted his head, appraising her.

  “I asked you a question,” he repeated for the third time.

  “I’m fairly certain we both know what we’re doing here, Bowie. The question is why?” In her field of business, renovators were a dime a dozen. Carly could’ve easily called someone from Seattle or Portland to do the job. The reason Bowie was here was simple. She knew he was in construction. Right out of high school he had followed in his father’s footsteps, something he always swore he would never do. Brooklyn had declared she would leave after she graduated high school. She had wanted to move back to Seattle with her parents and attend the University of Washington to become a nurse. She hadn’t. She’d waited for Austin. Austin, who’d promised her they would move once his business took off. The business had thrived, and yet the move was pushed off for one reason or the other until both Austin and Brooklyn had had enough.

  Moving from a metropolis to a small town had a way of changing your path as well as your life. The hopes and dreams she had when she arrived in Cape Harbor were quickly set aside. Her new friends weren’t dreamers. Not in the sense that she was. Mila was already practicing her acting skills in local productions, and Monroe had already started tutoring. Bowie worked for his father, even though he hated it. Austin and Grady were fishing every chance they got and talking about heading to Alaska for summer break, where they could make enough money to start their own business after they graduated. Brooklyn, Jason Randolph, and Graham Chamberlain were the only ones destined to leave. Jason and Graham had left, as planned, but Brooklyn had stayed.

  She’d fallen hard for Austin Woods, which in her eyes had meant his dreams became hers. Her mother had been the same way when she’d met Brooklyn’s father. Love at first sight, drop everything for the man you were in love with, and follow him to the ends of the earth. Brooklyn was following the example her mother had laid out for her, despite her parents encouraging her to do what she wanted; that love would still be there if it were meant to be. When Brooklyn would bring up the career path she wanted to follow, Austin would always tell her there would be time for her to do her thing once his business took off. There would always be time. The problem was that it didn’t matter to Austin if it was five minutes, six hours, forty days, or three years. It just simply meant not right now. Thinking back, Brooklyn should’ve seen the signs early, but that first love was all-consuming. Being in love meant something to her. It meant she had a purpose, a reason for being, that moving away from her life and friends in Seattle had been a good thing. She was head over heels for this boy, and she put her dreams aside to help him fulfill his.

  Regret lived inside of Brooklyn now. She had battled with it for years. Guilt over leaving after Austin’s funeral. The blame she put on herself when he died. The remorse she felt for staying away. Shame for her actions in general. Years of therapy hadn’t been able to cure her; of course it may have helped had she stuck it out with one therapist, but her job wouldn’t allow for that. Moving from place to place was how she operated. She chose to live out of hotels
because they were easy, no commitment, and her permanent residence was a post office box in Jacksonville, Florida. Yet deep down, she knew Brystol wanted friends—she wanted to feel like a normal teenager—and giving her daughter a stable homelife would be the right thing to do. She often thought of sending her to her parents, letting her daughter grow up in Seattle. Go to a real school and make real friends. But the thought of not being with Brystol every day literally made Brooklyn ill. She was her reason for breathing, for waking up every morning. Brystol was the only reason she was back in town and staring down the man who had been the catalyst for everything disintegrating before her eyes all those years ago.

  Brooklyn sighed heavily. The loud, exaggerated sound was meant to get Bowie’s attention. His eyebrow popped, almost as if he knew what she was doing. No, he definitely knew. He knew Brooklyn better than she knew herself. At least, he used to.

  “What happened to you becoming a nurse?” he asked. She couldn’t tell if his tone was snarky or just curious. There was a time when he’d known her hopes and dreams and she’d known his, but those days had long passed.