Brooklyn turned in his arms. She ran her fingers over his freshly shaved skin. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to make love to her again and again, until the sun came up. What he didn’t want to do was think about their future outside of her bedroom. He wasn’t foolish enough to think Austin was going to walk away without a fight.
“Do you regret this?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I could never. I’ve been in love with you for so long.”
Brooklyn ducked her head, hiding her face in his chest. Even without asking, he knew she was thinking about the ramifications of what they’d done. Their friendships were going to change, people would choose sides, and best friends would no longer be. But she was worth it to him.
“B?”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t overthink things, okay? Whatever happens, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I haven’t gone anywhere in six years. We’re adults, and we made a decision.”
She nodded against him and then whispered, “He doesn’t love me.”
Bowie moved so he could lift her chin. He wanted to see her, to look deep into her ocean-blue eyes. He saw the tears form and shook his head.
“He doesn’t love me,” she repeated before he could say anything. “If that’s not a clear indication that we’re over, I don’t know what is.”
He opened his mouth to tell her that he loved her, that she meant the world to him, but her phone started ringing, and then his cell phone started as well. They both scrambled to answer. All he had to do was roll over, but she had to leave the room. The scene played out in front of Bowie like he had seen many times in the movies. Brooklyn pulled the sheet from the bed and wrapped herself in it, covering her naked body. He thought about tugging on the white fabric but didn’t want to embarrass her.
“Hello,” he said gruffly into the receiver.
“Where are you, man?”
He looked around the room. He couldn’t tell Graham where he was or what he was doing. So, he lied. “Home, why? What’s up?”
“There’s been an accident,” Graham said hurriedly and with panic. “He’s so fucking stupid. The fucker took the trawler out, and it fucking capsized. Fucking rogue wave tipped the boat over. My dad, he’s heading out now, and my mom’s freaking out. I can’t get a flight until tomorrow.”
Bowie sat up straight. When he had arrived at Brooklyn’s, it was pouring and had been all day. He remembered seeing the warning lights earlier; there were two, indicating a storm. Bowie swallowed hard. “Who?”
“Austin, man. Fucking Austin, and he’s gone!” Graham screamed.
“What do you mean?” Bowie had a hard time forming the words he forced out of his mouth. His throat was tightening up, and his chest started to heave. “What do you mean, Graham?” He looked up just as Brooklyn appeared in the doorway; she was white as a ghost. He pulled the phone from his ear and pressed it to his chest to muffle Graham’s yelling.
“B?”
She inhaled deeply and choked on a sob. “That was Carly. Austin’s boat . . . the storm . . . they can’t find him.” She collapsed onto the floor just as Bowie threw his phone down. He couldn’t catch her in time, but he could hold her, and that’s what he did until both of them were strong enough to make it down to the port to wait for news.
“You know, even in death, Austin kept us apart,” he said, breaking the silence between them. He picked up a shell and tossed it toward the water. “Why did it take you fifteen years to come back?”
She shook her head. “I never found a reason to, I guess.”
“Until now?”
“Carly called and asked me to come back. It was the first time she had. I really hadn’t seen her after Brystol was born; I always had some excuse or some job that needed to be done. My parents saw her, though, when they would hand Brystol off for visitation.”
“What are you going to do now?”
Brooklyn let out a long sigh. “Well, it seems I have two choices. Brystol inherits everything, so I can either sell the inn and go back to doing what I do, or I can run it, and let Brystol decide when she’s old enough.” She hugged her knees tighter to her chest.
“You weren’t planning to stay, were you?” Even before he asked, he knew the answer. The other night, while it was a breakthrough for him, she still had Austin’s memory to contend with.
“No, I wasn’t. I came to do a job. In fact, my next one should start in October. I need to figure out a plan because I can’t leave my clients hanging. With that said, Brystol wants to go to a real school. My parents want us to be close, and Carly . . .” She paused. “She wants us—and by us, she means you, Brystol, and me—to spread her ashes where Austin’s boat went down. She has the coordinates written down.”
“Why me?”
Brooklyn turned her head and glanced at Bowie. If she was surprised to find him looking at her, she didn’t say anything. She smiled. It was soft and kind. “If I had to guess, I think she might think you’re my knight in shining armor. She likes you, Bowie. And I know she regrets the way the last fifteen years turned out for her. But losing Austin, it really did a number on her.”
“On all of us,” he said. He turned his attention back to the water. Aside from the usual boats, a group of surfers had taken to the waves. “I told Brystol that I would take her out on the sailboat, that we’d go hiking and I’d teach her how to fish. Those are all things Austin would’ve taught her.”
“Bowie . . .”
He held up his hand, silently asking her to let him finish. Bowie scooted in front of Brooklyn. He took her legs and placed them on either side of his hips and held her hands. “I have something to ask you, but I want you to let me say what I need to say before you reply or say anything. When I first saw you at the inn, it was like seeing a ghost. It had been years since I thought about you, and then you were standing right there, and all my feelings came rushing back. As much as I wanted to hate you, I couldn’t. But I did hate you for a long time for leaving me. I couldn’t understand why you left without saying anything and why you didn’t ask me to go with you. And then, I see this teenage version of you, and I’m angry. I’m so damn angry that you kept Austin’s daughter from us, that you didn’t give us a chance to be in her life, so I’m counting the days until the project’s over and I never have to see you again. Except, I don’t want you to leave because I’d rather live with the hate than not see you and not be a part of Brystol’s life. I know I’m not the only one who feels this way . . . we’ve all missed you.
“Then you show up at Austin’s bonfire memorial, and our group—the friends we grew up with—they see Brystol, and they’re hurt because they didn’t know about her. And then we’re sharing these moments while we’re working on the inn and we almost kiss—it’s all confusing as hell right now, B. I haven’t felt flustered by a girl since high school, but when it comes to you, my mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, and Graham isn’t helping because he’s talking some serious nonsense, and part of me doesn’t believe him, but I still have to ask . . . is there any chance Brystol is my daughter? Because he’s put this thought in my head, and I’ve had a chance to think about it and our night together, and I feel like there’s a chance that she could be. I feel like we need to have a DNA test done, and it kills me to ask, because if it proves that Brystol isn’t mine, that Austin is her father, then I’m scared that any connection we had—or have—will be gone.”
Brooklyn gasped and tried to pull her hands away, but Bowie held on tightly. He wasn’t letting her go. He wasn’t going to allow her to run away again. He watched her expectantly, waiting for her to answer. She looked down at the sand or maybe their hands—he couldn’t be sure—but she didn’t say a word, and the silence was killing him.
After what seemed like an eternity, she finally met his eyes. “I told you why I left. I was ashamed, and I didn’t want your friends turning on you. I didn’t want the town turning on me. No one would ever believe that behind closed doors, Austin wasn’t a saint. You and I know him dif
ferently, but to everyone else, he’s on this pedestal. What we did that night, it wasn’t going to matter what our reasoning was behind it because on the same night it happened, he died. Austin and I fought, he told me he didn’t love me, and for some reason we’ll never understand, he thought it was a good idea to take his boat out in the storm. It was better to let people think I was a heartbroken girlfriend instead of a woman who fell between the sheets with another man. I was weak and cared far too much about what people thought of me.” Brooklyn took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
“As far as Brystol goes, and you being involved in her life, all this time I thought you were. Brystol and I had an understanding that we didn’t talk about Cape Harbor because the wounds were still so fresh for me. I would ask her how her grandmother and Simone were, and she’d answer. That was it. It was selfish of me to try and forget the life I had here, but had I known what was going on, I could’ve made a change. Not that it would’ve mattered anyway, because none of you were even visiting Carly.” Brooklyn paused and took a deep breath.
“Brystol would love to do all those things with you, as long as you bring Luke along. She’s infatuated with your dog, which leaves me no choice but to get her a puppy since apparently, we’re staying here. But as far as a DNA test goes, we don’t need one because Carly had one done already.”
“What?” Bowie croaked out. It seemed he could focus only on the last part of her dissertation.
“Graham isn’t the only one questioning the paternity of my daughter. Her grandmother did as well, unbeknownst to me. Earlier this morning, she told me some nonsense, as you put it, which I blew off thinking she wasn’t lucid enough to know what she was saying. Turns out . . .” She paused and tilted her head toward the sky. Was she looking to Austin for guidance?
“I want you to know that never in a million years would I have ever kept Brystol from you if I had known. I have spent the last fifteen years thinking she was Austin’s. Feeling deep in my heart that despite everything, we had a child. And today, I was proven wrong. Carly had a DNA test done when Brystol was about three. What made her do this, I don’t think I’ll ever know. We’ll never know. But, as of today, what I do know is that you’re her father, and I can’t even begin to explain how sorry I am that you’ve missed her life.”
Bowie sat back on his haunches, letting go of Brooklyn’s hands. She had tears streaming down her face, and her eyes were sad. They weren’t pleading with him for forgiveness or acceptance. She looked heartbroken and devastated. Was she devastated because Austin wasn’t the father of her daughter or because Bowie was?
“Carly knew?”
“It seems so. I don’t know why she never said anything to me. I think it’s because in her heart, Brystol was Austin’s, and now that she’s dying . . .”
“A deathbed confession.”
“We would’ve found out eventually,” she said. “The test is right in her desk drawer.”
“Does Brystol know?”
Her head went back and forth slowly. “No, she doesn’t. When you found me trying to be washed away by the waves, I had just found out myself. I figured you’d want to know first.”
Bowie pulled on his lower lip. Brooklyn reached out to calm his hand. “How will she react?”
She sighed and pulled her legs in toward her. “Brystol’s a pretty amazing kid. I think she’ll like the idea of having a dad around. That’s if you want the job. If not, then I beg you to leave things as they are.”
“Hell yeah, I want the job,” he answered immediately. He wanted more than just the job of being Brystol’s father. He wanted to be in Brooklyn’s life as well. He had no idea where they stood, but in that moment, he didn’t care. He propelled himself forward with so much force Brooklyn had no choice but to lie back in the sand. “I want to be with you too,” he said before pressing his lips to hers. Without hesitation, he deepened the kiss and welcomed the warm sensation of what it felt like to kiss someone for the first time . . . all over again.
THIRTY
Kissing was something Brooklyn hadn’t done in a while, and she had forgotten how much she enjoyed it. After a few dates that went nowhere and a failed relationship with one of the guys from her construction team, which turned out to be a complete and utter disaster, she had sworn off dating altogether to focus on taking her career to the next level and raising Brystol. Sure, she had missed the attention a man could bring, but the time it took to build a relationship that wasn’t based on sex was more of a hassle for her than anything else.
With Bowie kissing her, she felt like a teenager all over again, like they were doing something they shouldn’t, and some adult was going to tell them to knock it off . . . or stop them to preach about the proper use of a condom and explain that it was more appropriate to express themselves physically in private. Basically, the same things she would say to Brystol if she found her daughter and some boy making out in the sand. Only they weren’t teenagers anymore, and everything between them felt different—from the way he was kissing her, to the way he angled his body, to how he was holding her like he was never going to let her go. They weren’t the couple who had fumbled through anger, tears, and disappointment to find each other years ago; they were two people who had longed for each other well into adulthood, and finally had a chance to be together.
If Brooklyn left, would Bowie go with her? Deep in her heart, she knew he would. Not because of her but because of Brystol.
Brooklyn pulled away and covered her face. Her sobs were quick and painful. Hot tears streamed down her face. How could she have been so utterly stupid as to not know who the father of her baby was? How could she have robbed Brystol of her father for all these years?
She maneuvered out from under Bowie, refusing to look at him. She went toward the water, needing some space, and hoped that the rush of the waves would drown out the voices in her head. They were mocking her, telling her that she was a horrible person who had ruined innocent lives. She had kept her daughter from knowing her father, telling her for years that he had passed away. How was she going to tell her now, so many years later, that she had made a mistake? What words could be said to possibly undo the damage that she had caused? Not only was her daughter losing her grandmother, but she was also finding out that the man she had thought was her father wasn’t, and she wasn’t who she’d thought she was her entire life. Add to that the fact that her real father was alive—how did one come back from all of that? The knowledge that Carly had known and never said anything really boiled Brooklyn’s blood. Why had she kept this a secret from her? Doing so only increased the pain and suffering her daughter was going to go through.
Brooklyn wasn’t much better. She should’ve known there was a chance Bowie could be Brystol’s father, and yet, she had refused to ever consider the possibility. Standing there, looking out over the ocean, she felt his arms wrap around her and his lips press against her collarbone from behind. She didn’t deserve his affection. He should be yelling at her, calling her every name in the book, making her feel like she was nothing more than a huge mistake he had made all those years ago. But that wasn’t Bowie. He was forgiving and sweet. He saw the good in everyone, even when they didn’t deserve it. He was kind and gentle, and despite everything, he was still in love with her.
“Stop beating yourself up.” His voice barely rose above a whisper. How did he always seem to know what she was thinking?
“You’ve lost all this time with Brystol. I should’ve known.” A mother was supposed to know these things, right? She should’ve been able to look into her daughter’s eyes and tell that she was a Holmes and not a Woods. But she hadn’t, she couldn’t, nor had she ever even thought of doing that, because in her heart she had thought she knew that Brystol belonged to Austin.
She felt him shake behind her. “B, let me tell you something,” he stated as he turned her around in his arms to face him. He cupped her cheeks with his big calloused hands, and smiled. “From the second I saw Brystol, I thought she was Austin’s.
I never looked at her and wondered if she was mine, so if you’re going to blame yourself for me not knowing I had a daughter, you might as well blame me too. I could’ve questioned you from the start. I should’ve known by looking at her, but I didn’t. Do you know why?”
Brooklyn shook her head.
“Because I know you well enough to know that if you knew—or even thought—she was my daughter, you wouldn’t have kept her from me. You wouldn’t have raised your daughter, telling her that her father was dead, if you thought for one second I could be her dad. So, just stop. Stop with the ridiculous thoughts going through that pretty head of yours. Do you want to know if I’m mad? Hell yes, I am, but not at you. At Carly. I’m pissed because she kept my daughter from me. She’s known for years and chose to keep that a secret, which is something I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to understand.”
Brooklyn couldn’t disagree with what Bowie was saying. Carly was in the wrong in more ways than one. When she had suspected Brystol wasn’t Austin’s, she should’ve said something to Brooklyn instead of having a DNA test done behind her back. She wasn’t even sure if that was legal and would have to ask her father about that later. Not that it would make a difference in the end because Carly was dying. But to keep the results to herself, to continue acting as if Austin were Brystol’s father, hurt Brystol more than anyone else involved, and that damage would have to be fixed now by Brooklyn and Bowie.
“Are you hearing me, B? Do you understand that I’m in this forever?” Forever was a long time, especially when there were so many unknowns. He pressed his lips to hers and held them there. She could taste the salt water on his lips and knew that salty kisses were something she wanted to get used to.
“Can I ask you a question?” she asked after pulling away. His hands dropped to hers, their fingers locking together.
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