Back to Shore (Meade Lake Series Book 1)

by Taylor Danae Colbert

  But he doesn’t hold back. He smiles at me—that same perfect smile I remember from so long ago. That same smile he gave me the first time he pulled me onto his boat. The same one he gave me when he first brought me into Lou’s. The same one he gave me when he told me he would wait for me to finish school.

  I remember him then, so vividly, the day I first laid eyes on him. When my whole world changed.

  8

  Then, Summer Before Junior Year

  “Kids, where are you?” Dad calls from the main level of the lake house. I’m lying out on the back deck, a towel draped over my face, trying to soak in the sun through every pore on my body.

  We’ve been here for two weeks, and I’m starting to get bored.

  Don’t get me wrong, Meade Lake is my favorite place in the world. It brings me so much peace, so much calmness. Everything slows down, the food is amazing, the views are untouchable.

  Walking out onto the balcony every morning while the sun trudges up over the tops of the mountains is like a dream.

  But I’m sixteen. I need to do something.

  Chase is non-stop when we’re here. On the boat, in town, eating, working out, fishing. But I’ve noticed him slowing down a bit, too.

  “I’m out here,” I call, scooting off of the chaise lounge and wrapping a towel around me. I head inside and see Dad tying a tie in the mirror. Mom comes down the steps, looking less than pleased in a fitted dress and heels.

  “Where are you all going?” Chase asks, his hair a floppy mess on the top of his head. He gives his head a shake, and suddenly, his eyes are visible.

  “Tonight’s the benefit back home, remember?” Dad asks. Oh, yeah. The summer benefit for Kelford that our parents go to every year. “Duty calls.” As the mayor of a tiny Pennsylvania town, Dad actually stays pretty busy. He had humble beginnings, starting as a teacher, just like Mom.

  But he wanted more. He didn’t like the way the schools were structured. He didn’t like the lack of empathy. He didn’t like that some kids went without food. So he worked his way up through administration.

  He became a principal then eventually moved on to the school board. When he saw other issues arising in town, he ran for mayor—and won.

  It’s been a busy few years, but it’s been pretty cool.

  Mom, however, still thinks she can make the most difference on the front lines, with the youth of our little town. She supports Dad in all he does, but she has made it clear, more than once, that his career will not get in the way of hers.

  I love her for that.

  But being a teacher means she’s off for the summer. Dad is, too, for the most part, which is why we end up in Meade Lake all summer. To decompress. But there are a few little engagements here and there where he needs to show his face. Like tonight, for example.

  “You look hot, Mom,” I tell her as she fluffs her hair in the mirror. She rolls her eyes at me and smiles. Aside from a little more curve to her body, she and I are twins. Chocolate-brown hair that’s board straight, matching brown eyes, and petite. We both tan in summer, as does Chase, but he has Dad’s light-blue eyes.

  I’m proud to look like my mom. I’m proud to be like her.

  “We will be back late tonight,” Dad tells us, grabbing his keys off the oak table by the front door. “Please don’t burn the house down. And don’t do anything stupid,” he says, eyeing Chase. Chase holds his hands up in defense.

  “Hey, why are you looking at me? She’s the one who crashed the car last month!” he says, pointing to me.

  “You’re both still learning,” Mom says. “And let’s not forget who we caught trying to sneak Jenny Murphy into the house a few weeks ago.”

  I cross my arms and give him a “what now” look. He swallows.

  “Seriously, you two, be safe and smart. I left some cash on the counter. We will call you when we’re on our way back so you can put all the furniture back in place and kick everyone out of the big rager you're going to have,” Mom says, kissing each of our heads. We laugh and say goodbye.

  As if we know anyone up here to have a “rager.”

  As if I’d be interested in having a “rager.” That’s Chase’s deal. Not mine.

  We wave as they pull out of the gravel driveway and then head back in the house.

  “Wanna do something?” I ask Chase.

  “Like?”

  “I don’t know, fish?” I say. He shakes his head.

  “Nah. I fished for hours yesterday. They’re not biting as much as last year. I’m gonna go into town. I met this girl at the coffee shop today. Luna,” he says, his eyes sparkling like an idiot when he says her name.

  “So?”

  “So, I’m going to meet up with her and some friends at O’Murray’s in a bit.”

  He pauses awkwardly then shrugs.

  “You wanna come?”

  I scoff because we both know the answer to that. I’m the introverted twin. He’s the extrovert, the social butterfly, the man who says all the right things. Sort of like Dad. I’m a little dependent on Chase for a social life; I freely admit that.

  But I was looking forward to some time with my brother.

  “No, thanks,” I say.

  He shrugs again.

  “Okay. What are you gonna do?” he asks.

  “I’ll figure it out.”

  After a few minutes of primping himself and spraying on some of Dad’s cologne that in no way matches up with a night at a lakeside restaurant, Chase says goodbye and hops in Dad’s truck.

  I sigh as I watch him pull away, realizing that this is how our life will be. Him with the plans, me without.

  I hate it because, without my brother, I feel like I’m drowning. He’s the most important person in my life. And maybe it’s because I don’t know a life without him. Maybe it’s because he can read my mind before I even formulate a thought. Sharing a womb will do that to you.

  I sulk around to the side porch of the house, grab a rod and a tackle box, and make my way down to the lake. But after an hour with no bites, I realize that, once again, Chase was right. No bites. I slip my shoes on and start the walk down the street that our big ol’ lake house sits on. At the front of the neighborhood sits a large pond. I plop down on the shore, slip my shoes off, bait my hook, and cast.

  I watch my bobber moving up and down with the wind, but nothing again.

  I sigh. Isn’t this just a damn metaphor.

  Behind me, I hear the rumbling of an engine that sounds to be as old as I am. A dirty, green pickup truck drives by then stops at the corner. Slowly, it reverses back to me, and I swallow.

  The driver rolls down the window, which he has to do manually—it’s like he’s driving an antique—and I go from being nervous and skeptical to being dumbfounded and skeptical. Because he’s gorgeous. He has shaggy brown hair that sticks out of the front and sides of his backwards baseball cap. I feel my tongue jut out to wet my bottom lip.

  I want to smack myself.

  Serial killers can be good-looking, you idiot.

  I clear my throat.

  “Ma’am?”

  Ma’am? He looks like he’s older than me. Ma’am? Really?

  “Yeah?”

  “You know how to fish?” he asks, and I feel my body stiffen. What an asshole. Just because I don’t have a man with me? Just because I don’t look like I’m from Meade Lake? He’s assuming I can’t fish?

  I roll my eyes.

  “Yes, random kid, but thank you for your unwanted misogynistic skepticism. I can even put the worm on the hook, too,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. I turn back to my rod, reel it in, and re-cast. I hear him chuckle behind me, then I hear the engine cut off as he pulls the truck over a bit. He closes the door and walks toward me, and my heart is thudding in my chest.

  “Well, uh, do you know how to read?” he asks.

  I whip my head to him.

  “What?”

  He smiles, and it’s devastating. One of those smiles that can bring you to your knees. One of
those smiles that makes you forget about everything, including the fact that he just insulted your intelligence.

  He points a finger behind me, and I turn to see a big white sign.

  THIS POND IS NOT STOCKED, it reads. I bite the inside of my cheek. I slowly turn around and reel my hook in, wrapping it around my rod. There’s no fucking fish in this pond.

  “Fucking great,” I mutter, slamming the tackle box shut. He chuckles again, and it’s so conflicting, because I want to both laugh with him and slam him into his truck.

  “There’s another pond up a little ways. If you want, I can show you?”

  I pause and turn to him slowly. He doesn’t look like a threat, but I guess they never do. I eye his truck, and he turns to me.

  “Oh, we can walk,” he says, sensing my nervousness. I think for a minute.

  “Okay,” I shrug.

  “Cool,” he says, grabbing a rod out of the back of his truck and falling in line next to me as we walk down the road. He reaches over after a few moments and takes the tackle box out of my hand. I let him. “I’m Ryder, by the way.”

  “Mila,” I say, adjusting my grip on my rod.

  “Mila,” he repeats my name, and it sounds like silk rolling off his tongue. “It’s nice to meet you. You in town for the week?”

  I shake my head.

  “The summer. My family has a house on Joan’s Way. We come every summer,” I say. His eyes brighten a little bit when he hears that, and it makes my stomach flip. “How about you?”

  “Nah, I’m a local,” he says with that damn smile. “Been in Meade Lake my whole life and probably won’t ever leave.”

  I smile back.

  “Lucky,” I say. “It’s my favorite place.”

  “Mine, too.”

  A few minutes later, we turn onto a wooded path, and then I see a big open pond. There’s a bridge that leads to a gazebo on the water. It’s beautiful. We cross the bridge, and he sets the tackle box down. He kicks his shoes off and sits down, letting his feet dangle off the edge. Then I do the same.

  “So, Mila,” he says after he casts, “tell me something about yourself that you don’t normally tell people you just met.”

  I have a hook between my teeth, retying the line to it. I lift my eyes to him.

  “Wha-what?” It catches me off-guard.

  He looks at me out of the corner of his eye and smiles. I feel this warmness fall over me, like the feeling you get when you’re in the comfort of your own home. You can lay out, as unladylike as you please, hair in a bun, socks that don’t match. And no one cares.

  That’s how it feels right now.

  “Uh,” I say, thinking for a minute. I cast out and watch the line hit the water. “I guess…” My voice trails off. I’m hesitant, but I look to him and see those green eyes sparkling, waiting to learn something about me.

  “Okay, ah...I think my dad had an affair last year.”

  I swallow. The smile runs from his face, and he cocks his head.

  “Whoa,” he says. I nod and turn back to the water.

  Shit. That was too much. I can kiss this handsome stranger goodbye.

  “I’m really sorry about that. That sucks,” he says. “Are they still together?”

  Hmm. Maybe not?

  I nod.

  “Oh, yeah. I think she knows about it, too. There was this one time, last year, when he said he had a meeting to go to. It was at a weird time. My mom left shortly after he did, and there was a lot of screaming when they got back. That night ended with my dad leaving and my mom crying in her room. Then, the next day, they didn’t speak of it—or ever again, to my knowledge,” I say with a shrug. There’s this weird, healing, cathartic feeling talking about all of this. Because until this moment, I never have. Chase wasn’t home that night. I watched it all unfold from the top of the stairs and the front window. And then I laugh at the fact that I’ve told this secret to a perfect stranger within the first hour of knowing him.

  “What’s funny?” he asks.

  “I’ve just never told anyone about that night. Not even my brother,” I say.

  “You have a brother?”

  “Yep. We’re twins.”

  “Where’s he today?” Ryder asks me.

  “O’Murray’s. Meeting some hot new babe he met this morning—Luna Something,” I say with a hint of disdain. Ryder breaks out laughing. “What?”

  “Luna Peake. She’s been dating Daniel Thorpe for two years. I don’t know your brother, but I don’t think he has much of a chance,” Ryder says with a laugh. I laugh, too. Man, how I wish I could be there to witness that.

  “Okay,” I say, finally gathering myself. “Now it’s your turn. You tell me something.”

  He pauses for a moment, looking down at his hands and then out at the water.

  “I’d like to sit with you at that pond you were at until we catch a fish,” he says.

  “But...that pond doesn’t have fish,” I say slowly as I start to catch his meaning. My cheeks flush, and my eyes drop to the ground.

  “Exactly.”

  9

  I’m blow-drying my hair in the mirror of my room and put on a few flicks of mascara. I have on a flowy tank with my favorite pair of jean shorts. If I remember correctly, these are the first pair of jean shorts that Ryder ever—ahem—got into.

  Man, what a journey these shorts have been on.

  I stop on the way and grab a bowl of pre-made fruit salad from Meade Market then continue along the way to Big Moon Drive.

  Every time I pull up to this house, I feel warmth, and I feel nausea, all at the same time. I take in a deep breath and get out.

  Just as I’m knocking on the front door, a truck I recognize pulls up in the driveway. Derrick’s smiling face pops out.

  The front door to the house opens just as Derrick is stepping up onto the porch.

  “Well, what a coincidence! I just happened to be in the neighborhood with this bottle of wine, and you two look like you’re about to have dinner, so…” Derrick says with his smile. I give Ryder a look.

  “You’re afraid to have dinner with me alone, huh?” I ask. Derrick busts out laughing as Ryder nervously brushes a hand through his hair.

  “She caught you, dude,” Derrick says, handing the wine to Ryder and walking inside. Ryder holds the door open for me, and I make my way in. The smell of the pine, the views from inside the foyer, it all brings back a sweeping wave of memories. He takes the fruit from me then stirs something on the stove. He flicks off the burner and turns back around.

  “Dinner’s up,” he says.

  We make our plates and head out to the back deck that overlooks the water.

  “So,” I say, once everyone is seated and eating, “Derrick, tell me what you’re up to—aside from running a business.”

  “Eh, you know. Same ol’, same ol’. Just spending a lot of time with Mama and Miss May. Remember her?”

  I nod. May was a sweet older woman who was real good friends with Derrick’s mom, Alma. She has a huge house on the north end of the lake and would always let us jump off her dock.

  “How are they doing?”

  “They’re...alright. Time has been rough to a lot of us,” he chuckles then takes a bite.

  “And you?” I ask, turning to Ryder. He clears his throat and takes a swig of his beer.

  “Ah, you know. Just working at the shop and Lou’s when he needs me. Everything has remained relatively the same in Meade Lake,” he says. I nod. Almost everything.

  “What about you, Mila? I heard you got married, right?”

  I clear my throat and take a sip of water. I declined the wine; I don’t need my inhibitions to be lowered around Ryder.

  “Divorced officially, about a week ago,” I say matter-of-factly. Nothing like calling out the big, fat, divorced elephant in the room. Derrick nods, and Ryder doesn’t seem to react.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he says. I shrug it off.

  “Eh, things happen. Sometimes people aren’t meant to be,�
�� I say, my eyes pointed at Ryder. “I’m sort of a believer in the idea that no one person is really meant for another.” We weren’t meant to be.

  But he doesn’t shy away from my glance; he just narrows his eyes back at me from across the table, and it sends a shiver down my spine.

  “I don’t know about all that, now,” Derrick says with a chuckle. “Ryder and Maura? Man, those two were—”

  Then something happens. My eyes shoot to Derrick, then to Ryder. Ryder is glaring at Derrick. Derrick swallows audibly.

  “Shit, I’m sorry, man, I just…” Derrick says, putting a hand to his head. My eyes are still on Ryder’s. Derrick excuses himself, and there’s half of me that’s screaming to go with him.

  “Maura?” I ask, as if I have any right to know. He swallows, and his eyes trail up to the sky.

  “She was my wife,” he says.

  I feel this pang in my chest. I’m feeling a lot of things I don’t quite understand. I’m curious as to who she was, when they got married, what she was like. I want to know why we’re using the past tense. And I want to understand why, how, after all these years, after a marriage of my own, I could possibly be a tiny bit jealous.

  “Was?” I ask. He nods.

  “She died four years ago.”

  My heart’s beating in my chest so hard that I’m sure he can hear it.

  “Oh, wow, Ryder,” I say breathlessly. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

  He smiles.

  “And I had no idea you had gotten divorced—or married, for that matter. But we both had a loss, and I’m sorry for yours, too.”

  I nod.

  After a few more minutes, Derrick comes back outside to get his dishes.

  “Well, now that I made it infinitely more awkward for everyone, I’m going to head over to Mama’s. I’ll see y’all later,” he says, bending down to kiss my cheek and nodding his head at Ryder. “See you tomorrow, man.”

  I help gather the rest of the dishes, and Ryder and I make our way to the kitchen to wash them. Without thinking, I grab a towel off the oven handle. He washes, I dry.

  I want to know what happened to her, but I feel like I need to ease into that. We’re on a need-to-know basis right now, him and me.