TWENTY-SEVEN
Bowie yawned as he put his truck into park and turned the key to shut off the engine. He sat there in the driveway, staring at Carly’s house, thinking about the events from the past couple of days. He had gone from being hopeful with Brooklyn, feeling as if they’d finally overcome the imaginary wall between them, to heartbroken and feeling desperate because Carly was sick and there wasn’t anything he could do to help.
When he left the hospital last night, it was late. He stayed long past visiting hours, hoping to see Brooklyn one last time after she went to be with Carly in her room. When the nurses’ station dimmed the lights, he finally drove home, surprised to find Luke waiting for him. He went to call Graham to thank him, only to find a text from his friend telling him that he had dropped his dog off and if he needed anything to call him.
As much as he wanted to see Brooklyn now, he knew she wouldn’t be at work. He was going to pull double duty and make sure every part of the project was meeting deadlines. They had an inn to finish, with or without Brooklyn and Carly.
The door to the inn swung open, and a group of guys walked out, then picked up shiplap, loaded their work belts with supplies, and carried in loads of drywall. He had learned from Brooklyn that he wasn’t managing his crew very well, which embarrassed him. Because of his divorce, he had slacked as a boss, and it had showed when they started on the inn. He could see now why Brooklyn shut herself off, especially while she worked. Job first, emotions later. A motto now instilled in him.
He pulled out his phone to call her to make sure she didn’t need anything. He scrolled through his contacts, not once, twice, but three times looking for her number. His brow furrowed in confusion. He was certain he had added her number, but where was it? Not under the b’s and nothing under the h’s. He reached across the bench of his truck and pulled the clipboard Luke sat on. Flipping through the work orders, he scanned every inch of paper, looking. Nothing.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. He looked at the carriage house, wondering if Simone was home. He’d have to ask her for it and couldn’t even imagine how awkward that was going to be.
He finally got out of his truck, and as with every day when he arrived, Luke jumped out of his truck and ran directly to the main house, where his pooch sat at the door, waiting for Brystol. Never in his life had he seen an animal become so attached to someone and so quickly. Sure, he had pets when he was younger, but they never favored him over his father or mother. Luke was different, though. It was like he yearned to be with Brystol, or maybe he knew she was going to need the comfort that only a dog could provide.
When the door swung open, Bowie smiled at the sight of the girl. More and more, he thought she was a carbon copy of Brooklyn with a very little hint of Austin. He stood there, watching as she crouched down to greet Luke, burying her face in his scruff. His dog basked in the attention. He thought about Austin and how he would have been with a daughter. He wanted to give his friend the benefit of the doubt but wasn’t sure he could. Austin was a rough-and-tumbler, “a man’s man,” as the saying went, and would’ve likely had trouble raising a girl. Although he was incredibly close to his mother, so some of their bond would surely have transferred over to his relationship with his daughter. He hated even thinking Austin wasn’t around to raise his child. If he hadn’t died, he and Brooklyn would’ve ended up married and would’ve probably had enough children to man a fishing vessel.
Brystol finally glanced up and waved at Bowie. He’d use this as a chance to ask about her mom; he walked over to her with his hands stuffed deep into his pockets to keep from fidgeting. Brooklyn had called him out for asking Brystol too many questions, and yet there he was again, about to do the same thing. “Your mom home?”
She shook her head. “I think she’s still with Nonnie. Simi’s home if you need something.”
He didn’t. He merely wanted to see Brooklyn, to know that she was okay. “I’ll give her a call.” Except he couldn’t because he didn’t have her number, and he wasn’t about to ask Brystol for it. “Can you watch Luke for me today? I’m going to be inside a lot, and the pavers are coming to fix the driveway and parking areas. I don’t want him to get in the way.”
“Of course. My mom says that if I need anything after Simi leaves for the hospital, I should ask you.”
On the inside, Bowie was beaming. Elated. Brooklyn trusted him with her child. “Absolutely,” he told her proudly. “Do you have a cell phone?”
She rattled off her number to him. He carefully put each digit into his phone, saved the contact information, and then sent her a text.
“Call me, anytime. And if you leave the house, shoot me a text so I know where you are. Otherwise, we’ll meet for lunch?”
Brystol nodded again and stood. She opened her mouth to say something but quickly closed it. There was a sadness in her eyes, one that he had seen many times with her mother. He wanted to reach out to her, give her a hug, but didn’t know how Brystol would react. Instead, he offered her a soft smile and turned toward the inn, intending to use work as a distraction. When he showed up here weeks ago, he had no idea what to expect. If someone would’ve told him that the woman he had spent most of his life simultaneously in love with and hating was going to show up and completely rock his world, he would’ve easily called their bluff. Good things—and yes, he considered this a win in his book—didn’t happen to Bowie. He wanted to believe his string of bad luck had run its course, but if it hadn’t, he was going to do whatever he had to in order to make sure it was ending soon.
Inside, construction activity was bustling. He checked the progress in every room, jotting down notes in case Brooklyn asked. As far as he was concerned, the rooms were shaping up to match her specifications perfectly, and as much as he had initially balked at the idea of the shiplap and overdone farmhouse look, he appreciated how Carly’s vision was coming together. The fine lines, attention to detail, and old-fashioned vibe were adding a lot of character. The inn was shaping up to feel like a home rather than a place people rented so they could sleep.
With Carly out of the house, Bowie did the one thing he knew he shouldn’t. He ventured into the kitchen, a place he was all too familiar with while growing up. As soon as he stepped into it, a wave of emotion came over him. Memories of the sound of laughter hit him squarely in the chest. The day before Austin had died, they had stood in here, hovering over Carly as she had baked a cake. They had dipped their fingers in the batter, testing her patience. It didn’t matter that they were in their twenties; every time they were here, it was like they were kids again.
Bowie ran his hand over the appliances. They were in pristine condition, and from what he could gather, recently replaced. Someone had done some work in here. The flooring was new, the walls painted, cabinets changed, and the old tile countertop was now granite. He tried not to let it bother him that he hadn’t been the one who made those changes. After all, he didn’t deserve to be here after the way he had treated Carly since Austin’s passing.
The door to the kitchen swung open, startling Bowie. He jumped and clutched his clipboard to his chest, as if to keep his rapidly beating heart securely in place. He’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and by the expression on Simone’s face, she knew it.
“Bowie,” she said sternly. Her tone gave everything away; she knew Carly hadn’t wanted him in the kitchen.
His posture relaxed, and he tugged on his hat, adjusting the way it was sitting. “I was trying to help, to make sure everything was in working order.”
Simone sighed. “Shortly after Austin died, Carly came in here with a sledgehammer. She destroyed everything. It’s taken me about ten years to fix it all. The appliances arrived about two months before she called you and Brooklyn to do the renovation,” she said as she ran her hand over the stove.
“You did all of this?”
Simone had a gleam in her eye. “When you spend most of your time cooped up, living with a recluse, you find yourself with a lot of tim
e on your hands.”
“How?” he asked. He shook his head and rephrased his question. “What I mean is, it looks professionally done.”
“Do-it-yourself books and online videos. There isn’t anything you can’t learn from watching how-to videos.”
He was shocked and held out his hand to give her a high five. “If you’re ever looking for a job, call me.”
Simone smiled. “Anyway, Carly figured your feelings would be hurt and wanted to spare you the pain. Same with Brooklyn. She’s not allowed in here, either, although I suppose she’s been in here at night. I haven’t slept much lately and hear things.”
After what he had done to her, Carly was still trying to watch out for him. The thought warmed him, humbled him, and made him want to be a better man. If she could look past how he had treated her, he could look past the pain he associated with Brooklyn.
About midafternoon, Bowie received a text from Graham saying that he needed to talk to him. He was right. The outburst from Grady during Austin’s bonfire still left a bad taste in his mouth. Bowie didn’t want to assume Graham had broken his trust, but all signs pointed in that direction. Nothing Grady had said that night made sense. He shouldn’t be angry with Brooklyn because if he knew the real story of what went down—the truth—then Grady might not be so eager to lay blame on Brooklyn. Unless Austin had told Grady that night on the boat, but it was unlikely, judging by the way he had reacted to seeing Brooklyn on the beach. Bowie and Brooklyn had kept their secret buried, but he had a feeling it was about to open like Pandora’s box.
Bowie checked in on Brystol and told her he had to cancel his lunch break due to having to run a few errands but that he would be back. He asked her if she wanted him to take her to the hospital to visit her grandmother when he got back, to which she said that would be nice and that she would ask her mom. Again, Bowie wanted to be the one to reach out to Brooklyn, but not having her number was posing a problem for him, and he was growing desperate and was close to caving and asking Brystol for it.
The Whale Spout had a few patrons inside when Bowie arrived. A couple of guys from the docks were tossing darts, and there was a couple cozied up in the corner. He took a seat at the bar, farthest away from everyone. Words were going to be said, words that could hurt people in his life, and he didn’t want anyone picking up on them and spreading them like wildfire. What had happened was in the past.
“Beer?” Graham asked.
“Water.” Bowie fully intended to take Brystol to the hospital later and didn’t want to ruin his chances by having a beer or two at lunch.
Graham pushed the glass in front of him and set his hands on the edge of the bar. He wouldn’t look at Bowie, but he could see the torment in his eyes. Graham had betrayed Bowie’s trust. Bowie wished he had opted for a beer or something stronger. He was going to need booze to numb him and calm his thoughts.
“How’s Carly?”
“I left the hospital late last night after they finally put her in a room. Things aren’t good, man. She has stage four breast cancer. According to Simone, she’s refused treatment.”
Graham’s face paled. “How long?”
Bowie shook his head slowly. “Not long. Brooklyn’s with her now.”
They sat there for a moment, not speaking until Graham pushed off the bar and sighed heavily. “That shit with Grady . . . listen, you have to know I’ve never said anything to him about . . . ya know . . .”
“So how does he know?”
“That’s just it—I don’t know. He’s talking gibberish right now, not making much sense. Saying shit about taking the trawler out to look for Austin’s body.” Graham ran his hand through his hair and let out another large sigh.
“Grady needs help.”
“I know. But my parents . . .” He paused when the door opened. It was one of the local fishermen coming to join his friends. “They say he’s fine. They don’t want to believe that their son is the town drunk.”
“But he is. We’ve all enabled him over the years. You own the bar, so he has a safe place to drink. Your parents take care of him. I give him odd jobs when he asks for them. Maybe it’s time we stop.”
“You’re just saying that because of his outburst the other night.”
Bowie shook his head and leaned forward. “I’m saying it because it’s true.”
The guys from the docks hollered for another round, forcing Graham to get back to work. Bowie sat there for a few minutes thinking about how life had turned out since Austin died. Not only for him, but his friends. Graham left his fancy computer job in California to come back here to help his brother. Mila started drinking and partying too much. Jason went back to Seattle for school and stayed there. Brooklyn left and came back fifteen years later. And Bowie, he was never destined to leave and married the first girl to show him any attention after Brooklyn. There was a time when he had thought his life could’ve been different, and maybe it would have been if Austin hadn’t died. The lives of his friends revolved so much around Austin, and he couldn’t understand how or why it became that way, but he wanted to change it. It was time for them to start living in the present and not the past.
Graham returned, this time with a beer. “I have something to say, and you’re going to want to drink that after I do.”
“Okay,” Bowie said.
He exhaled loudly, cocked his head slightly, and stared at Bowie. “Have you given any thought to the idea that Brooklyn’s daughter might be yours?”
If Bowie had had a mouthful of beer or water, Graham would have been wearing it. Bowie felt his eyebrows rise as he contemplated whether Graham was messing with him. The expression on his face told Bowie that he was serious.
“Look, I’m not trying to stir the pot here, but I think the chances that she’s your kid are pretty strong.”
“I was with Brooklyn one time, man. She was with Austin . . .” Bowie stopped his train of thought. He didn’t want to think about her with Austin. Not now, and definitely not back then. “I just . . . there’s no way—besides, we used a condom.”
Graham nodded. “It just takes one time, and they break. How many people do we know that have kids after a one-night stand?”
He was right, but not about Brystol being his. There was no way Brooklyn would intentionally let her daughter grow up without a father; that much Bowie knew. Brystol talked about Austin being her dad, and Carly—Carly was a devoted grandmother. He’d witnessed the two of them interact. Brooklyn wouldn’t be that cruel, not to Austin’s mother.
Bowie tossed a few bucks onto the bar top and slipped off the stool. “Sorry, man. But I think you’re wrong.” He left the Whale Spout without another glance toward Graham.
TWENTY-EIGHT
As much as Brooklyn hated deadlines, she never missed one. She liked to work at her own pace and wasn’t fond of people looking over her shoulder. The impending death of Carly and everything that had to be done to prepare for it felt like the biggest deadline of all. She had to wrap her head around the fact that her daughter was about to inherit the inn. That wasn’t the only thing weighing heavily on Brooklyn’s mind. The bomb Carly had dropped about Bowie, the one she refused to believe, was adding so much pressure to her head she felt like a migraine was about to set in. Brooklyn wished she could blame the morphine, but she knew Carly was lucid. She had looked right into Brooklyn’s eyes and said the words clearly. Lucid or not, Carly didn’t know what she was talking about. There was no way Bowie was the father of her child, and she refused to even entertain the idea.
Brooklyn tried to pull into the driveway of the inn, but the enormous paving truck blocked her entrance. She considered halting the reconstruction project until after Carly passed, not knowing where her finances were, but knew doing so would only cost more in the end. The inn had to be repaired, especially with Brystol set to inherit it. As it was, Brooklyn could do the work herself. However, as she scanned the area and saw not only her men but Bowie’s crew hard at work, she knew she couldn’t pull the plug. B
rooklyn wouldn’t feel right putting all these people out of work and was pretty sure Carly would find all the strength in the world within her to leave the hospital and rehire everyone if she did.
She opened the front door a little too hard, and it banged against the wall, scaring Luke, who growled at her. She wasn’t scared of the dog, but a little taken aback by his response and then relieved that he was protecting her child, and she found herself feeling consoled that Bowie was there.
Brystol shut her book and set it down on the coffee table. Within seconds, she had tears in her eyes and rushed toward her mom, and they wrapped their arms around each other’s waists. They held each other, both crying. Brooklyn’s heart broke for her daughter. The ache was so great she had a hard time swallowing. Brystol had never known death directly until now.
She walked her daughter over to the couch, and as soon as they sat down, Luke rested his head on Brystol’s leg. Bowie was right; she would need his dog and the comfort he provided to get somewhat through this.
“Nonnie’s dying, isn’t she?”
Brooklyn choked on a sob and covered her mouth. “I’m so sorry, baby girl.”
Her daughter’s eyes were downcast, and her fingers moved back and forth on Luke’s head. “What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s sick, Little B. It’s cancer.”
She looked up at her mom. “Will I get it?”
Brooklyn shook her head and pulled her child into her arms. She couldn’t find the words to tell her daughter no because she wasn’t sure what the science behind breast cancer was. She had heard stories of women in families from different generations having breast cancer, but she didn’t want to think about this happening to her daughter.
They sat together for a while until she told Brystol that she needed to do some stuff in Nonnie’s room. “Are you going to be okay for a bit?”
“I think so. I’m just sad.”
“I know, sweetie. We all are. If you’re feeling up to it, I’ll take you to the hospital later, but I want you to know that she’s hooked up to some machines and she’s not very talkative. They have her on a lot of medicine, so she’s not in pain.”
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