by Elise Noble
“I—” I couldn’t say I wouldn’t, because I would. Brooke was probably right on both counts. “I’m sorry for that too.”
“How about we stop discussing this? Our past is so messed up, Luca, and I can’t… I just can’t…”
Another truth, and I had to respect it.
We rode the rest of the way in silence, and the sun had begun to drop by the time I parked beside Brooke’s Honda in front of the Crowes’ two-car garage. Back when I was a kid, I used to keep my bike in there so my dad didn’t smash it up in one of his rages, but now cobwebs hung at the corners of the doors and Addy’s mom’s compact and her dad’s SUV were parked in the driveway out front. The light was on in the kitchen, and I saw them sitting at the table, eating. Some things didn’t change. Dinner in the Crowe house was served at seven p.m. prompt and heaven help you if you showed up late.
“You want to unlock, and then I’ll carry the dog upstairs?” I asked.
“I’ll let Vega sniff in the yard for a few minutes first in case he needs to go to the bathroom.”
“Want me to open the door?”
Brooke handed the key over, and I jogged up the stairs. I’d been in the garage apartment plenty of times when Addy’s grandma had been alive—she used to be a reliable source of candy—and I found it hadn’t changed much. The front door opened straight into the living room, with a small kitchen at the back and the bedroom and bathroom to the side. The wallpaper was the same, pale pink with thin white stripes, now peeling around the edges. Yellowed gloss paint on the woodwork showed chips and cracks. The kitchen was stuck in a time warp, and I could swear that was Grandma Crowe’s overstuffed couch as well, also pink but a darker shade, more Pepto Bismol than cotton candy. Brooke had made several updates—a flat-screen TV on a side table, new pictures on the walls, too many cushions to count, and a potted plant on the coffee table. All things that could be taken with her when she moved. In some ways, it reminded me of the quarters I’d lived in over the years, spaces I’d called home but which, in reality, had been nothing more than a place to sleep.
I stepped closer to study a painting beside the bedroom door. A small figure stood on the beach, staring out at the waves, and I recognised Turtle Rock in the distance. Had Brooke painted it? Yes, that was her signature in the bottom right-hand corner. Was the figure meant to be her? It should have been serene, but there was a melancholy about the scene. A sadness that made me want to call Addy and get her to give Brooke a hug because sure as shit Brooke would turn down a hug from me if I offered.
If Brooke had painted that from the heart, then mine ached for her.
“Is Vega ready to come in yet?” I called.
“I think so.”
The dog was still sleepy, and he didn’t protest when I lifted him into my arms and carried him up the stairs. But he did walk into the coffee table as soon as I put him down. And the couch. And the sideboard. Guess that cone took some getting used to. Every time the crack of plastic on wood sounded, Brooke winced.
“You want to move some of this furniture?” I suggested.
“Move it where?”
“To the side of the room? Downstairs into the garage? Or I could take it to Deals on Wheels temporarily.”
“Uh…” Crack. “Could you take the coffee table out? There’s a tiny bit of space in the garage, and I have a key.”
“Sure. Do you need to keep all these magazines?”
Crafts at Home, Crochet World, American Craft, Watercolor Weekly… Guess I knew what Brooke did in her spare time these days.
“The pile on the bottom shelf can go in the trash.” She put her head in her hands. “The trash can’s full.”
“In the kitchen? I’ll empty it.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I do.”
Brooke held onto Vega while I gathered up the bag of trash from the kitchen and the pile of magazines, took them to the outside trash can, and tossed them in on top of a vase of flowers. Wait. Flowers? Curious, I reached in and lifted them out. These weren’t withered stems, they were fresh lilies. The flowers I’d seen her pick up outside the door last night? Why had she thrown them out? There was a card stuffed into the middle of the blooms, and because I was an asshole, I opened it.
I MISS YOU.
That was all it said, but the sender had drawn a crude heart with an arrow through it at the bottom, Cupid-style to match the picture on the front. The ex-boyfriend? The one who’d put Brooke off dating? If he still had feelings for her, then she sure didn’t feel the same way. Part of me, the primitive part fuelled by testosterone rather than reason, wanted to stick around for longer than two weeks just to punch him in the face.
My phone rang, and I forced myself to uncurl my fists. Brooke wasn’t mine, and she never would be.
“Aaron? How’d it go in court today?”
“Pretty good.”
“You won?”
I didn’t know the details of the case, something about a divorce dispute, but Aaron hadn’t been sure which way it would go and he’d spent most of the night reading through documents. Between the lawyering and the renovation project, he’d been working harder than a Middle Eastern donkey lately.
“Yeah, it was a good settlement. The client was happy, which is why I’m calling.”
What did that have to do with me? “Oh?”
“He’s offered me the use of his vacation home in Cabo, and I’d like to take Clarissa for a couple of weeks, but Brooke’s dog… How long are you planning to hang around in Baldwin’s Shore?”
Ah, shit. But Aaron needed the break, and I didn’t have a firm contract lined up. It’d be a dick move to make him give up a free vacation.
“What dates are we talking?”
“Leaving the week after next.”
“Take the trip. I can stay until you get back.”
“Thanks, buddy. Are you with Brooke right now?”
“Just got back from the veterinarian. The dog keeps walking into the furniture.”
“Can you tell her I’ll bring dinner over tonight? I haven’t seen her in a few days.”
“Sure, I’ll pass on the message.”
And Aaron could tell her about Cabo. Better him than me because when Brooke found out I’d be on dog duty for two weeks longer than she thought, she’d be pissed.
8
Brooke
“Cabo? You’re going to freaking Cabo?”
For two freaking weeks?
Aaron looked at his girlfriend and back to me. Yes, I knew I was overreacting, but this week had been one long series of challenges sent to test me.
“It’s only for a vacation,” Clarissa told me. “Your brother needs a break, wouldn’t you agree?”
Yes, and Clarissa wanted a free trip to Mexico. She stared down her nose at me in that snooty way of hers, and I blinked back tears. Why did he have to pick her over me? Not that I particularly wanted to go to Cabo; I just really, really needed his company at the moment. For a brief second, I was tempted to confess all about my stalker, but I stopped myself in time. Don’t be selfish, Brooke. Aaron did need a vacation. He’d been working way too hard lately, doing his best to create a better future for both of us. Clarissa was right, the same way she was always right.
“Yes, I agree he needs a break, but Vega…”
Vega raised his head at the sound of his name. He was a smart dog. He’d already learned how to sit and stay, and he also knew that if he cocked his head to one side and looked up at me with those doleful eyes, I’d give him a doggie treat.
“Luca’s agreed to stay until we get back,” Aaron said. “He’ll help you each day.”
Oh, he had, had he? Just when I thought this month couldn’t get any worse.
“Vega needs to be carried in and out, like, four times a day, and more at the weekends. That’s a lot to ask.”
“He can handle it. Plus he can give Deck and Brady a hand with the renovations, so your apartment will get finished sooner.”
I manage
d a weak smile. “That’s great. Terrific. I hope you both enjoy Mexico.”
Clarissa helped herself to a slice of pizza. At least they’d brought food with them. “We will. The villa’s right on the beach, and the nightlife in Cabo is amazing. You should go sometime.”
Did she say that just to rub it in? She knew I was ploughing every cent I had into the renovation project, and also that I was single. I blew out a long breath. It wasn’t that I hated my brother’s girlfriend—hate was a strong word—but I couldn’t help wishing she were nicer. Clarissa was pretty and successful and made all the right choices in life, and she also never passed up an opportunity to remind me of that. Beside her, I felt like a bumbling fool.
“I’m too busy with work to take a vacation.”
“Oh, right, the crafting. Your brother showed me a video the other day. People really pay you to fold paper?”
“Origami’s very popular, actually.”
“Right.” She sounded as if she didn’t believe me, even though my origami videos had thousands of views. “Have you ever thought about going back to college?”
“So I can work in an office like you?”
Aaron jumped in before Clarissa could bite back. “Clarissa got promoted last week. She’s regional vice president of marketing now.”
Did that mean she got a bigger stick to shove up her ass? Internally, I poked pins into an imaginary voodoo Clarissa doll, but externally, I smiled.
“Congratulations! That’s great news.”
To my own ears, my words sounded fake, but Clarissa didn’t seem to notice. Probably she was used to people speaking that way.
“Thanks! I’m getting a new company car as well. Are you gonna eat that last slice of pepperoni?”
“No, you have it.” I’d lost my appetite. Perhaps that was one small silver lining to this month’s clouds—I could button my jeans again. “Aaron, how’s the reno work going? Did Deck finish making the kitchen cabinets?”
He truly was making them, like from scratch. Aaron said that if he was going to go to the trouble of building his own home, then he’d build it exactly the way he wanted it. If that took longer, then so be it. Better to do it right the first time than cut corners and have to redo the work a year or two later.
Which meant that Aaron had sketched out his ideas for the whole of his home, and Deck was bringing the wooden parts to life. When Deck first came to town a few years ago, he’d worked as a sculptor, but sculpting didn’t pay the bills, so he’d turned to carpentry to make ends meet. A shame, really, because he was so talented. We kept some of his smaller pieces at the Craft Cabin on a consignment basis, and every so often one of them sold, but they weren’t cheap. Maybe if we could attract more visitors into town from the Peninsula Resort…
Deck’s artistic background meant that everything he made turned out beautiful. The kitchen, the dining area, and the living room were all open plan, a mix of reclaimed materials and quirky modern touches that I absolutely loved. Personally, I thought my brother’s talents were wasted as a lawyer. He should have become a designer. Honestly, he’d have made a fortune.
“They’re halfway finished. We managed to get a bunch of old science benches from the high school in Coquille, and he’s going to incorporate those into the island. Did you decide on your bathroom tiles yet?”
I thought I had—white tiles with a ripple texture, plus metallic silver tiles to form a feature line halfway up the wall—but that was before I got Vega’s vet bill. Yes, Luca had paid it, but I had every intention of paying him back. And although it was very generous of him, I couldn’t deny being the tiniest bit annoyed that he’d gone ahead and settled the balance without mentioning his plan to me first.
“I think I’ll probably go with plain white.”
Clarissa wrinkled her nose because anything plain was anathema to her, but I ignored her opinion the same way I always did.
“You think?” Aaron asked. “Is that a definite maybe?”
“Probably.”
He just chuckled. “Let me know if you want me to order them. Brady finished wiring the lights today, and the plumber finished the first downstairs bathroom last week. He’s gonna start on yours next month.”
Thank goodness. Until now, we’d had to use the old staff bathroom from the building’s time as a car dealership. To say it had seen better days was an understatement. Think blackened grout and yellowed porcelain, chipped tiles and pipes that clanked and groaned when you turned the faucet on. I’d kept a pair of flip-flops by the door because no matter how many times I scrubbed the floor, it had still remained a stubborn beige colour.
But now we had proper plumbing. Hallelujah.
At least one part of my life was going according to plan, thanks in no small part to my brother. I couldn’t burden him with the rest of my troubles. It would ruin his first vacation in years, and I’d make an enemy out of Clarissa too. She wouldn’t let a little thing like a stalker bother her. No, she’d probably stab him through the eye with a lip liner or knock him out with her giant purse.
I’d survive alone for two weeks. Well, not entirely alone. I had Luca on speed dial, and if it meant my brother getting a break, I’d put up with Luca’s presence and deal with the consequences later.
Dealing with Luca turned out to be easier than I thought. After the rocky start and his overreach with the vet bill, he began acting more…professional? Was that the right word? Probably not, but I didn’t like the term “distant.”
Aaron came over in the mornings to carry Vega down the stairs and load him into the car. Paulo or Darla helped me to get him out at the store, and he snoozed in the break room all day, apart from at lunchtime when he got up to mooch for titbits. He barked at Pickle once, she hissed back, and he reversed until his butt hit the wall. So much for being a guard dog. From that moment on, they ignored each other, which meant one problem was solved.
Luca showed up three times each evening—right after work to carry Vega into the apartment, once before dinner, and again just before I went to bed—and he never complained. Not once. On the third day, I asked if he wanted to stay for pizza, but he said he had to finish painting a wall. Okay, maybe “distant” was the most appropriate term. But having a little space between us was a good thing, right? The evening after, he had to take a phone call about a job, so Colt came over with Kinsley, his little girl, and we made paper daisies. Me and Kinsley, not me and Colt. That would’ve been weird. But Colt did bring pizza, so the arrangement worked out well for all of us, not that I was hungry because I was too busy worrying about where Luca might end up going next. How dangerous would it be? Concerns I’d pushed to the back of my mind for the last eight years were now front and centre. And worse, there was nothing I could do about them—if I confessed my fears to Luca, that would upset the tentative truce we’d settled into. Having salvaged the remnants of a friendship, I didn’t want to lose it.
Nor did I want to be alone when my brother went on vacation. My stalker had been blessedly quiet for the last week, but who knew how long the peace would last?
9
Brooke
On Wednesday, Aaron took the evening shift—thankfully sans Clarissa—because his flight to Cabo left on Thursday morning and we wouldn’t see each other for two weeks after that.
“You didn’t make me a cake on my birthday,” he grumbled as I sifted flour into a bowl.
“That’s because you were on a health kick. I made you a vegetable lasagne and stuck candles in it, remember?”
Paulo preferred sugar to veggies, so he was getting a three-tier chocolate sponge with buttercream filling. Darla had promised to drop by and help us to eat it, even though it was her day off tomorrow. We each worked five days per week in the store—I covered Tuesdays and Wednesdays with Darla, Thursdays and Fridays with Paulo, and all three of us worked Saturdays.
Saturdays were my favourite days. Not only because I had Sundays and Mondays off, but because I ran a craft group for older children in the mornings. I also taugh
t adults on Wednesday afternoons and younger kids on Tuesdays. The classes were my favourite part of the job—they were sometimes chaotic and usually messy, but always fun.
And this Saturday, I had Paulo’s birthday dinner to look forward to as well, plus another cake, one I didn’t have to make this time. All I had to do was get through the rest of the week first.
“The lasagne was good,” Aaron admitted, patting his stomach. “And I should have stuck with the diet. Not sure I’ve got much of a beach body at the moment.”
“Clarissa loves you just as you are.” Gag. “What time is your flight tomorrow?”
“Nine thirty. You sure you’ll be okay while we’re not here?”
Not even a little bit. “I managed to survive for nearly seven years while you were in New York.”
“Yeah, I know, but I’m allowed to worry about my little sister, aren’t I?”
“Hey, less of the ‘little.’” I flicked flour at him, then cursed when he ducked. “I’m only three inches shorter than you.”
“Sure, if you stand on tiptoe.”
Maybe that was true.
“Now you’re just being picky. Want me to make you a cake when you get back?”
“I’m never gonna say no to one of your cakes, and you’ll be able to make it in your new kitchen soon. Deck’s gonna start work on it while I’m away.” Aaron pulled a folded sheet of paper out of his pocket. “But he’s also offered to help with the dog if Luca can’t make it. Colt and Brady too. I’ve set up a schedule with everyone’s availability on it.”
Of course he had. It was colour-coded too.
“You’re a freak, did anyone ever tell you that?”
“All the time. But I’m an organised freak. One of us has to be,” he added as he leaned down to kiss me on the cheek. “I need to finish packing, scatterbrain. See you in two weeks.”
“Don’t call me that,” I yelled at his retreating back.
The only answer was the door slamming behind him.
