If I Didn't Know Better (The Callaways #9)(52)

"We should go back to the shore," he said. He needed to get out before he got too deep, and he wasn't talking about the ocean.

"In one second," she said, reaching for his hand again. "There's something I need to say."

"What's that?" he asked warily.

"Three," she yelled, and then jumped on him, shoving his head under the water.

She was on her way to the beach when he came back up for air. "You better run," he said, as she sent him a laughing look.

"I owed you for that."

"What happened to trust?"

"Apparently, it doesn't extend to dunking each other in the ocean."

He couldn't refute that statement. By the time he got back to the blanket, Colin and Kara were back, Mia had a towel wrapped around her hips, and the kids all wanted to eat lunch. It was time to put on his dad hat. Flirtatious games with Mia would have to wait for another time.

The next few hours were filled with family-friendly fun. After lunch, they threw around a football on the beach. He also managed to coax Ashlyn farther into the water. In fact, she got brave enough to put her hand into his, and when the water hit her hips, she actually held her arms up to him, and he'd picked her up.

She'd been happy enough to stay in his arms while he went a little deeper, and he'd found himself reluctant to leave the water, not wanting the closest connection he'd ever had to her disappear.

But eventually they'd made it back to the beach.

More people from his past came by. He was surprised at how many of the kids he'd grown up with had either stayed in Angel's Bay or had come back after college. He'd always thought anyone who stayed in Angel's Bay was an unambitious loser, but that wasn't true. It wasn't the town that defined them; it was who they were.

Maybe it was time he figured out who he was, because he sure as hell didn't feel much like a soldier anymore. He'd just never imagined leaving the Army, leaving his family.

But as he looked around the beach, a picture began to take shape in his mind.

Perhaps there was another kind of family in his future…





Thirteen

"Are you sad that our castle came in seventh place?" Mia asked, as they drove home from the beach a little after three.

Jeremy had been quiet since they'd left the beach. She didn't know what was on his mind, but he'd certainly been thinking a lot about something.

"Not at all. I'm proud of our castle." He flung a look into the backseat, and then gave Mia a smile. "Ashlyn is already asleep."

"I'm not surprised. It's been a fun and exhausting day. I had a great time, Jeremy. Thanks for inviting me."

"Thanks for coming. It was more fun than I expected."

"This town is starting to grow on you again. You have more friends here than you realized. And you're remembering the good times, not just the bad."

"That's true."

"Does your father still live in the house you grew up in?"

"No, he sold that place after I graduated from high school. He has an apartment by the harbor. I don't know what he did with all the furniture. He probably sold it. He was never much for material things."

"Take me by your old house," she said impulsively. "I want to see where you grew up."

"Really?" he asked doubtfully.

"Yes. When was the last time you went by your childhood home?"

"Ten years ago. It was on my first trip back. It felt strange, surreal. I almost couldn't remember living there. So much had changed. Or maybe I was the one who had changed."

"Have you seen your father over the years? Did you spend holidays together?"

"Not after the first two years when we shared a couple of awkward Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners at Dina's Café. After that, if I came home, I spent my time with Kent or Barton and their families, but most of the time I just didn't come home."

"Where did you go then?"

"Sometimes I was deployed during the holidays. Or I'd hang with one of my buddies somewhere or just stay at whatever post I was at."

"It sounds like there might have been some lonely days."

"Not really. I was never lonelier than when I was living here with my dad. That was the worst." He paused at a stoplight and gave her a dry smile. "This can't possibly be interesting."

It was interesting because she was interested in him. "I like learning about your life. It helps me understand you better."

"Knowing my past hasn't helped me understand myself," he said dryly. "Glad it's working out better for you."

"Perhaps I'm more intuitive."

"There's a good possibility of that."

"Or you're just too close to your own life to see it in its true light."

"Could be."

The light turned green, and he drove another half-mile, then pulled up in front of a modest one-story house at the end of a quiet block. "This is the place."

"Was the basketball hoop over the garage yours?" she asked.

He nodded. "I shot at least a million baskets while I was growing up. That was my favorite place to be at night. I'd stay out there until long after the sun had set, hoping that when I went inside my father would already be asleep. Most of the time he was. If he wasn't, he could be a mean bastard. Alcohol might have made him happy, but everyone around him was made very unhappy."