“Okay.”
They hugged, and Brooklyn kissed her daughter’s forehead before heading upstairs. She paused before stepping over the threshold, hesitant to enter the “Austin sanctuary.” She knew what it was like to surround herself with pictures of him, as she had been doing it from the day she met him. She could never get enough of him.
Absentmindedly, she rested her hand over her midsection, as if to keep the pain she felt after losing him tucked deep inside. Wherever she looked, Austin stared back at her, and so did Brystol, which made Carly’s statement even more confusing. Brooklyn stepped into the room and slowly made her way over to the desk. She pulled the chair out and sat down. The view from the window was of the bay below and a crystal-blue sky. The colorful sails from the sailboats made the ocean look like a rainbow. She realized that Carly had arranged every room in the house and inn to look out over the water. She had wanted everyone to see what she saw. Sitting there, Brooklyn wondered if Carly had been staring out the window the night Austin’s boat capsized. Had she even known her son had taken his trawler out in the storm? Brooklyn certainly hadn’t known, and she often wondered if she had, would she have done what she did? That question had plagued her since his death, and still to this day, she didn’t have an answer.
The white pedestal desk creaked when Brooklyn lifted the roll top. The smell of hardwood had long since dissipated. The stacked compartments and shelves were orderly and labeled, but nothing stood out as far as Carly’s will or anything about the inn. The detailed ledger had enough information that Brooklyn knew all the account numbers for the utilities, and Carly had gone as far as to list which vendors delivered what for the inn. That confused Brooklyn. If Carly knew she was dying, why go to the trouble of remodeling and reopening the inn? Had she not stopped to think that Brooklyn would want to put her career first and not push everything aside to run a hotel?
No, she had thought this through, Brooklyn realized. Carly wanted Brystol to have roots, to go to school and make friends, and this was her way of making sure her granddaughter had those things. Carly was never a fan of Brooklyn traveling all over the country, dragging Brystol with her, and it seemed that what Carly couldn’t do in life, she would do in death: keep Brooklyn here.
Brooklyn went right for the bottom drawer. She pulled it open to find a dozen file folders, each one meticulously marked. She reached for the one marked “Will” and set it onto the desk. The green file wasn’t particularly thick, but then again, Brooklyn’s will wasn’t either. If anything were to happen to her, her wishes were simple: Full custody of Brystol to her parents with ample visitation for Carly, and her parents were to dissolve her business. If Brystol was of age and something happened to Brooklyn, everything was for her to do with as she wished.
Inhaling deeply and closing her eyes, Brooklyn let a calm settle over her. Someday, she would have to do this for her parents, but she had never thought she would have to be the one to do it for Carly. She had honestly expected Simone to inherit everything. However, here she was, acting as executor. She opened her eyes and flipped the file over and started reading. Carly wasn’t lying: Brystol inherited everything . . . the inn, the bank accounts, Austin’s trust fund. The dollar figure made Brooklyn’s eyes bug out. She wouldn’t have to take out a loan for college or even save at this point. The only stipulation was for Simone. She was to get a lump sum payment and to be offered a job as the full-time caretaker of the inn.
Brooklyn had a hard time understanding Carly’s reasoning. If she didn’t believe Brystol was her granddaughter, why would she leave everything to her? Of all men, why would she single out Bowie? Unless he went around telling people they had slept together. If he had, though, surely Carly would’ve said something to her years ago.
She returned the file to its location and reached for the one marked “Brystol.” She wasn’t sure what she would find when she opened it but steeled herself for whatever the contents were. Only a single envelope lay there. Brooklyn felt her heart drop. She glanced at the blue logo in the corner and saw that the envelope was from a lab in Seattle. Against her better judgment, she picked it up, pulled the folded sheets of paper out, and read them word for word. Then, she read the pages again for clarity. And a third time so her eyes could process what her brain was comprehending. As calmly as she could, she refolded and stuffed the letter back into the envelope, closed the folder, filed it away, and shut the drawer. She wasn’t prepared to deal with its contents and didn’t foresee a time she ever would be.
Downstairs, she found her daughter sitting on the floor, reading one of her required summer reading novels, with Luke resting his head on her leg. Brooklyn didn’t want to disturb her and slipped out the back door. She needed to think and wanted space to do it. Miraculously, she made it all the way to the beach without one of the crew members stopping her. She was hoping that Bowie was managing the crew and could get along without her for a few days. If not, he knew where to find her.
Brooklyn ditched her shoes by the wooden staircase and proceeded to walk until the dry sand turned wet. A few more feet, where the ocean would touch her toes, was where she finally sat, looking out over the surf. She didn’t care about her shorts getting wet or the fact that a sporadic wave would wash over her, drenching her. Every wave sunk her deeper into the sand, almost swallowing her. Every wave took her tears out to where Austin was.
Brooklyn stared at herself in the mirror and wiggled a bit as she pulled her dress down. She wasn’t sure if this was the right dress to wear to the party, but it was going to have to do. It was too late to try and find something else. She walked out into her small living room, twirling in front of Austin as she did. When he had showed up earlier, he had been in a bad mood, and she hoped this would at least make him smile. Although it seemed lately he was always in a bad mood, even when things were going really well for him. Of course, each time she asked about moving to Seattle so she could go to school, he’d fly off the handle and tell her they’d discuss it later. The problem was, later never came.
He didn’t say anything. He leaned to the side to look past her. She followed his eyes to the television and groaned when she noticed he was watching some fishing show. This show wasn’t going to deter her, though; it wasn’t going to ruin her night.
“Babe, are you going to get ready?”
“For what?” he asked without taking his eyes off the show.
“The housewarming party for Mr. and Mrs. Robwell. Remember? I told you they invited us because I worked on their house.”
“You, what, painted a wall? Anyone can paint a freaking wall, Brooklyn.”
Brooklyn bit the inside of her cheek. “It was more than just painting, Austin. I don’t understand why you have to put my job down all the time.”
“Because it’s not a real job.”
“And what, fishing is?” she asked, raising her voice.
Austin scoffed. “Fishing pays for nice shit for you. What does your job do? Put this shitty roof over your head?”
“Is that the problem? That you don’t like where I live? Or is it my job? Or is it me? Which is it, Austin?”
Austin threw down the remote and stood. Even though she was in her heels, he was still taller than her. “I’ve told you, move into my damn house and work for my mother.”
“I told you, I want my own career, Austin. I want to be a nurse, and until then, I’m going to work for the Holmeses and make my own money, and I won’t move in, not until we’re engaged.”
He shook his head. “And I’ve told you, this is where my job is.”
“You work on a boat, a boat that goes up and down the ocean all the time. There’s no reason as to why you can’t park that stupid boat in Seattle.”
“Stupid?”
“Yeah, stupid,” she said.
“You’re out of your freaking mind, Brooklyn.” He pointed to his head and then clenched his fist. “You’ve known from the second you met me that this is what I’m going to do.”
“And you’ve know
n since you met me that I wanted to be a nurse. That I didn’t want to stay in Cape Harbor for the rest of my life, and yet, here I am, stuck.”
Austin shook his head. “Know what? Don’t let me stop you.”
“What happened to us, Austin? Remember when you cared about my dreams? Remember when we were going to conquer the world and be this amazing team?”
He looked down and shook his head. “I am living my dream.”
“But I’m not living mine.”
“Then maybe yours needs to change.”
“Or yours,” she threw back at him.
“Not going to happen. If I’m not the guy to make your dreams come true, maybe you should look elsewhere.” He grabbed his jacket and headed toward the door.
“Where are you going?” she demanded to know.
“Leaving.”
“That’s all you do. You just leave.”
“I’ll tell you what, Brooklyn.” He came toward her with his finger pointed at her. “Why don’t you go cry on Bowie’s shoulder about it? Go whine and cry to my best friend because that’s what you’re good at—you’ve been doing it for years. Call him, tell him that Austin broke your heart. I don’t give a flying fuck anymore.”
“At least he listens to me, unlike you,” she fired back, holding her ground.
“Maybe it’s because you say nothing I want to hear.” His words shocked her. He went to the door and put his hand on the knob.
“Austin.” She said his name quietly. “If you leave—”
He glared at her sharply and shook his head. “I don’t love you anymore, Brooklyn. I’m done. I’m so done with all of this. I’m not coming back, so your threat, it’s falling on deaf ears.” With those words, he twisted the knob and walked out. She waited for the tears to come, waited for them to ruin the hours-long makeup job she had done to look perfect for him.
She didn’t know how long she stood there. It was long enough to make her feet hurt and her knees start to wobble. Still, she didn’t change her clothes; instead she went to the kitchen and opened a bottle of wine, forgoing the glass and drinking it straight from the bottle. Against her better judgment, she called Austin, getting his voice mail over and over. That was when the tears came. They came hard, hot, and fierce. She hiccuped and drank more. She dialed his number and drank more, until the knock finally came. She swung the door open. “Austin.”
But it wasn’t Austin. It was Bowie. He stood there, leaning against the door casing, waiting for her. “He called me.”
“Austin?”
Bowie stepped into the apartment. He shut the door behind him. Brooklyn stood there, looking at the guy who had been her best friend since the day she met him. The boy, turned man, who had never let her down. He was there to console her. He led her to the couch and sat down next to her. Brooklyn was pissed. Austin couldn’t come himself, but he sent his friend. It was always Bowie coming to save Austin.
“You don’t need to be here.”
“I want to be.”
“Aren’t you tired of always cleaning up his mess?”
“I don’t consider you a mess, Brooklyn.”
Another wave of tears came, and he held her in his arms, rubbing her back to soothe her. “Austin doesn’t love me anymore,” she cried.
“What if there was someone else who did?”
She pulled away from him. “No one in this damn town would be foolish enough to love me.”
“I’m that foolish,” he said, sitting up straighter so he could look in her eyes.
“What are you talking about it?”
“I’m so in love with you, Brooklyn. I have been since we met. I’ve lived a life of purgatory for my feelings, always second fiddle just so I could be near you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He cupped her cheek. “I’ve tried, but I never had the courage until now. And I’m here now, telling you that I will never treat you like Austin.”
“We could never be together, not here.”
“I know. I know all too well. If you want to move to Seattle, Portland, or Spokane, I’ll go with you. I’ll give it all up, just to be with you.”
She cried louder with each wave. She could scream when one hit because no one could hear her, and if anyone went by, they wouldn’t know she was in pain. Her life, the perfect life she had built away from Cape Harbor, was crumbling around her, and she didn’t know how to stop it. She thought about leaving. She could sell the inn, and she and Brystol could go back to living state to state, working on houses. They could act like nothing had changed and just return to their idea of normal.
Another wave was coming toward her. She closed her eyes and braced for it. Only it never hit. She screamed out as she found herself propelled into the air and carried away. She fell onto the warm sand with a thud, another body behind her. She scrambled to her knees and found Bowie doing the same.
“What are you doing?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” Bowie said. He stood and helped her to feet.
“I was enjoying the waves.”
“It looked to me like you were trying to become one with the ocean.”
Brooklyn shivered and crossed her arms around her midsection. There was seaweed stuck to her leg, and her hair smelled like salt water. Normally, she loved the way the sea salt made her hair feel, but as she ran her hand over her hair, she hated it. She wanted to go stand under the hot water in her shower and wash everything away.
“I wasn’t . . . doing what you think I was.” Brooklyn sat down where she was and pulled her knees to her chest. Bowie took the spot next to her and mimicked her position.
“I don’t ever want to think about you hurting yourself, B. After Austin died, I wanted to spend every waking minute with you because I thought you would do something, and when you wouldn’t answer the door or return my calls, I begged Monroe to stay with you.”
“She told me.”
“Why did you leave after the funeral?”
She sighed. She’d been afraid this conversation was going to happen but had hoped she would be on her way out of town before it did. “I was scared. Scared of people finding out about us. Scared they’d blame us for Austin’s death. Much like I was blamed the other day.”
“Speaking of that. Graham knows about what happened between us. I told him right after. He swears he didn’t tell anyone, and I believe him. I don’t know how Grady knows or if he even does. He’s a drunk, B. He spends his days and nights blitzed out of his mind. I think he was lashing out at you because you left us all that day.”
Brooklyn laughed and shook her head. She knew more about the people here than he did, and he lived here. “Carly knows as well, so if Graham isn’t flapping his gums . . .”
Bowie sighed. “I’m sorry, Brooklyn. I never meant for any of this to come out. I would’ve sung it from the top of the mountain, though, had you stayed.”
“Do you want to know what I was doing down there?”
Bowie nodded.
“I was thinking about that night. The one that changed everything. For the first time in a long time, I was happy, and I was happy because of you. It took me years to realize what kind of relationship Austin and I were in, and once I did, there really wasn’t anything I could do about it because to everyone else he was perfect, and I would’ve been the bad guy. I remember every word he said to me that night, how he told me he didn’t love me anymore. Want to know what else I remember?”
“What’s that?” Bowie asked.
“That you did.”
TWENTY-NINE
Bowie let Brooklyn’s words sink in. Truthfully, he had been pining for her for a decade and a half. Over the years, his feelings for her had teetered on the line between love and hate—he was a mixed bag of emotions after she first left, and while his relationship with Rachel had helped him heal and move on with his life, he had never truly overcome the feelings he’d had for Brooklyn.
A smile played on his lips as he inspected the sand. She remembered. Their nig
ht together was marred by tragedy, and he never could have fully pursued her back then, but nothing was stopping him now. Except for Graham’s voice in the back of his head. As much as he didn’t want to think about Brystol being his daughter, now that he was sitting next to Brooklyn, the thought weighed on his mind. What if she was his? Did Brooklyn know? Had she kept him from his daughter? The rational part of him was screaming no, Brooklyn would never do that, but he couldn’t deter the nagging suspicion that as much as he didn’t want it to be, it was possible. If she was afraid of how their friends and the people around town would react to them hooking up, surely she’d be scared to tell everyone that he was the father of her baby. The safe bet was to say the child belonged to Austin. Doing this also secured some financial freedom, being the only heir to Carly Woods.
No, Bowie couldn’t think like that, not about Brooklyn. Besides, if there was a chance that Brystol was his daughter, wouldn’t Brooklyn do everything she could to keep her away from him? Brooklyn hadn’t. In fact, she encouraged them in a roundabout sort of way. She definitely hadn’t intervened when Bowie would speak to Brystol, and she was appreciative of Bowie bringing her daughter to the hospital. Graham was wrong. He had to be. Bowie and Brooklyn had only been together one time. One night of passion, interrupted by a phone call that changed everything.
Bowie held Brooklyn in his arms. Every few seconds, he would kiss her bare skin and smile. He had wanted this moment for the longest time, and it had finally happened. They had finally happened. He didn’t want to think about tomorrow. He didn’t want to think about Austin, but he couldn’t deny that he was on his mind. What the hell had his friend—probably former friend now—been thinking? Brooklyn was perfect. She put up with all of Austin’s bullshit and never batted an eyelash about it. Not until Bowie started telling her to stand up for herself. She had dreams, which she had put on hold for Austin. Bowie would never think of holding her back. If she wanted to move to Seattle and follow her dreams of becoming a nurse, he was going to support her.
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