After All (Cape Harbor #1)(55)
Before they ventured to the beach, Brooklyn made sure she had a couple of bottles of water for Carly. With Simone in tow, they walked through the backyard and started down the wooden staircase leading to the beach. In a matter of seconds, Brystol was on the beach with her knees in the sand and Luke licking her to death. Brooklyn felt her heart drop to her stomach. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to see the people she’d abandoned.
However, it was too late to turn back now. Her eyes slowly found the bonfire, and with it, the faces of those she had left behind all staring at her. She swallowed hard, and she stood there, taking in each and every glare. Everyone looked the same to her. She hadn’t forgotten a single one of them.
She had turned to go back to the stairs when someone grabbed her hand. She glanced down at the manicured hand and followed the arm up until she met the soft eyes of Monroe. “Don’t leave,” she said, motioning toward the bonfire.
“I shouldn’t be here,” Brooklyn mumbled, and Monroe let go of her. “It’s one thing to see everyone at the bar, but here . . .”
Carly came toward her and slipped her hand into Brooklyn’s, tugging her along as she walked toward the group. Brooklyn thought about fighting her but shuffled her feet forward reluctantly.
“Mrs. Woods, here, have my seat.” Jason Randolph stood and held out his hand, helping Carly to a spot on the log. He then turned to Brooklyn and pulled her into a strong, welcoming hug. “It’s so good to see you,” he said to her.
“You too.” They pulled away and studied each other. “What are you up to these days?”
He smiled so widely Brooklyn couldn’t help but do the same. “I’m a doctor. Just finished my residency at Mass General.”
“That’s awesome, Jason.”
“Bowie told me what you do. I looked at your website; it’s incredible. My fiancée is always watching those home makeover shows and taking notes.”
“Thanks. I like it.”
“And you have a daughter?”
She glanced toward Brystol and Luke.
“Stop hogging her,” Monroe said, pulling Brooklyn away from Jason. “We have lots of catching up to do.”
Brooklyn followed Monroe over to the bonfire. She sat, keeping her eyes on Bowie. He stared at her intently, and she couldn’t decipher if he was angry that she was there or if something else was going on in his mind.
TWENTY
Every year since Austin had passed, Bowie and his friends had gotten together as if they hadn’t seen each other almost every day. Sometimes all their friends returned, and other times, it was only Monroe, Graham, Grady, and him. This year, though, it was everyone. He was surprised to see Jason trudging through the sand earlier with a case of beer under his arm. He was quickly followed by Mila, who said fifteen was a milestone and that everyone needed to be together. Truthfully, Bowie wanted this gathering to stop. The reminiscing was painful. Grady was evidence of that. And Bowie wanted one year where they, as a group, didn’t sit around and talk about Austin. Even their high school reunions, which, oddly enough, happened every summer as well, were geared toward remembering Austin. Sure, to the town he was a saint, but to Bowie, his best friend was a spoiled, self-centered asshole who didn’t know how good he had it. Still, he had loved Austin, and hated himself for thinking harshly of him.
As Jason hugged Brooklyn, Bowie watched her. He desperately wanted to have his arms around her, to feel her body pressed against his. He missed the days when she would confide in him, when she would come running to him because of something Austin had done. He wished for the days when they were younger, holding hands as they jumped off the rocks and into the river together. He would keep his hands on her waist as they treaded water, acting chivalrous even though Brooklyn was more than capable of staying afloat without his help. It was his excuse to touch her without looking suspicious. Not that Austin was paying attention. There was always a girl or two at the beach with them, flirting any chance they could. It bothered Bowie that Austin would encourage it, that he would act like what he was doing wasn’t a big deal. Bowie knew otherwise. He had spent countless hours consoling Brooklyn, being her confidant, hoping she would leave him. Only she never did.
Of all the places for Brooklyn to sit, she sat across from Bowie. He thought about going to Monroe to thank her for thinking of him but knew it was all happenstance. Their bonfire area wasn’t big, by any means, but still from where he sat, he had a full view of Brooklyn. For years, he had buried his feelings. Did everything he could to forget, and now they were back, and there was no stopping them. The floodgates had opened the second he had figured out she was driving the SUV that almost ran him over. As much as he wanted to hate her, he couldn’t. His heart, body, and mind wouldn’t allow it, and as much as he wanted to stay away from her, to protect himself from being hurt, he found himself in her proximity, always trying to be near her. He tried to fight the connection he felt, tried to ignore it, but he couldn’t. Watching her now, speaking with Monroe, he couldn’t help but long for her. He wanted to lie out under the stars with her by his side, listening to her life. He yearned to hear the details of where her job had taken her, how she had managed to build such a successful business and raise a smart daughter.
He took stock of the differences from when she was twenty-two until now. The years had been good to her. He loved that she wore her hair longer, that she had filled out with curves he longed to touch. She was reserved, careful with what she said around people, almost as if the outgoing girl he once knew had changed into a shy, quiet woman. When they were alone, she closed herself off, even though he could see in her eyes she wanted to be there with him, to kiss him, feel his hands pressed against her. Yet, she held back, and he was fairly confident that Brooklyn planned to leave once the job at the inn was finished. Bowie wasn’t going to let her go, not without a fight.