After All (Cape Harbor #1)(21)
In that moment, Austin stepped out onto the back steps. His eyes roamed the yard until they landed on Brooklyn. At the same time, a smile broke out on both of their faces. She got up, without saying goodbye to Bowie, and made her way to Austin. As soon as she was within arm’s reach, Austin pulled her to him, kissing her deeply. The couple walked back into the party, leaving Bowie alone.
“I see you, Brooklyn,” he mumbled into the darkness.
EIGHT
As far as standoffs went, the one happening between Brooklyn and Bowie could go down in history. Neither was willing to move, to even budge, and the only things lacking were witnesses, who had both deserted and sought cover inside the home. If Brooklyn hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought this was a setup, a ploy to get two former friends back together. But Carly had no idea what she was doing, what kind of hell she was creating for Brooklyn. To someone like Carly, this was as innocent as donating money to a homeless person.
Brooklyn wished she hadn’t taken off her sunglasses. Behind their darkened lenses she could hide, she could remain mysterious, but something had compelled her to remove them. She wanted—no, she needed—to see those radiant blue eyes of Bowie’s that she remembered. Only, they held no life, no expression. They were icy, harsh, angry, and pinned on hers.
Over the years, she had dealt with confrontation of all kinds. Homeowners who were upset with her work or who changed their minds hours before the job would be complete. Contractors who added unnecessary beams or walls that would change her design completely. There were the men who wanted more from her even though she was clear from the beginning—she was married to her job. Brooklyn could handle her own quite easily; she had learned from the best. And until now, she’d thought she had seen it all. But the anger in Bowie’s eyes, coupled with confusion, was uncharted territory for her. Her eyes diverted, and she stepped back. Bowie was close. Far too close for a friendly game of “nice to see you again.” As much as she’d tried to forget, images of the last time she’d seen him replayed in her mind. His outstretched hand, the words he said to her—all came flooding back. She felt sick to her stomach. She shouldn’t be here. She should’ve told Carly no, but deep down she felt like she owed the woman.
She focused every which way but on Bowie. Everything interested her right now: the torn-up driveway, the gutters that had accumulated fallen leaves that needed to be taken care of, and the cars that continuously drove up the road, bypassing the inn and essentially forgetting about the woman who lived there. Very few people lived on this road, so where were they going? And who were they? People who considered themselves friends of Austin’s? The same friends that left his mother alone for years? She may have left after his funeral, but at least she had her reasons. What were theirs?
Her wandering eyes finally turned toward the carriage house, where her daughter was. She wasn’t ready to explain Brystol to anyone, let alone Bowie. She’d figured out after her encounter with Monroe at the store earlier that no one knew she had a daughter. Yet another mystery when it came to Carly. She was starting to question what went on here during the summers, and whether Carly ever left the house. Brystol never complained when she would come back to wherever Brooklyn was working, always telling her mom that she’d had the best time with her grandparents. Brooklyn always assumed Carly was part of that statement. They were close, Brystol and Carly. “Thick as thieves” was what Simone called them. And yet, while she stood there, she mentally kicked her own ass for not prodding her daughter for more information. She should’ve been adult enough to deal with the pain. If Brystol had told her that her grandmother lived the life of a recluse, Brooklyn would’ve done something sooner. What she really needed to do was talk to her parents. How come they never mentioned anything when they came to pick Brystol up for the summer?
She chanced a look at Bowie. That was a mistake. His penetrating gaze made her already upset stomach twist into knots. He tilted his head, appraising her.
“I asked you a question,” he repeated for the third time.
“I’m fairly certain we both know what we’re doing here, Bowie. The question is why?” In her field of business, renovators were a dime a dozen. Carly could’ve easily called someone from Seattle or Portland to do the job. The reason Bowie was here was simple. She knew he was in construction. Right out of high school he had followed in his father’s footsteps, something he always swore he would never do. Brooklyn had declared she would leave after she graduated high school. She had wanted to move back to Seattle with her parents and attend the University of Washington to become a nurse. She hadn’t. She’d waited for Austin. Austin, who’d promised her they would move once his business took off. The business had thrived, and yet the move was pushed off for one reason or the other until both Austin and Brooklyn had had enough.
Moving from a metropolis to a small town had a way of changing your path as well as your life. The hopes and dreams she had when she arrived in Cape Harbor were quickly set aside. Her new friends weren’t dreamers. Not in the sense that she was. Mila was already practicing her acting skills in local productions, and Monroe had already started tutoring. Bowie worked for his father, even though he hated it. Austin and Grady were fishing every chance they got and talking about heading to Alaska for summer break, where they could make enough money to start their own business after they graduated. Brooklyn, Jason Randolph, and Graham Chamberlain were the only ones destined to leave. Jason and Graham had left, as planned, but Brooklyn had stayed.