After All (Cape Harbor #1)(56)

And now, here she was, looking directly at him instead of paying attention to whatever Monroe was saying to her. Their eyes locked, and even though a small distance separated them, Bowie could see her staring at him. He didn’t dare look away. He wanted her to know he was doing the same thing, watching her.

He stepped toward her with intentions of taking her down to the surf so they could talk, but Monroe finally grabbed her attention, forcing Brooklyn to look away. He sat and focused on the red flames and embers from the bonfire, trying his hardest to sit there and pretend to mingle with his classmates. It was hot out and the fire was unnecessary, but it was their thing. They always had one. Back when they were teens, one of them—he couldn’t recall who because they all suggested something stupid at least once a day—had the bright idea of burning a pile of driftwood. The blue and lavender flames were a sight to see and attracted beachgoers from all along the shoreline. What the boys hadn’t counted on was becoming sick from the dioxins released by the burning logs. After a trip to the emergency room, they had learned their lesson. Shortly after the incident, the town banned all driftwood fires. Now that Bowie thought about it, they likely did so because Austin was involved, and nothing bad could happen to their precious Austin.

Bowie hated himself right now for thinking ill of his friend. The animosity he thought he had long buried was alive and kicking, and for no good reason. Austin wasn’t there to defend himself, and Brooklyn . . . he could never find the right moment after Austin passed away to tell her how he felt, until it was too late. Carrying about the bitterness wasn’t good for him or anyone around him. He studied their group. Brooklyn was deep in conversation with Monroe, while Carly spoke to Graham. He had no idea where Grady had run off to, probably back to the bar, but he saw Luke frolicking with Brystol and decided he’d rather be with them. He dug through the cooler and pulled out a fresh beer and bottle of water and made his way toward her.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked her. She glanced up at him, her eyes shining like a bright blue sky. Brooklyn’s daughter was beautiful, a spitting image of her mother mixed with the best of her father. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her freckled nose and smiled. He had hated wearing his glasses and was so thankful that his parents had allowed him to get contacts in middle school. Even now, he’d rather go to bed blind than put his specs on.

“Nonnie says you do this every year.” She pointed toward the bonfire. “I’ve never been to one before.”

Bowie handed her the bottle of water before he sat down in the sand. He pulled his knees toward his chest and rested his arms there. “You’re not really there now, are you?”

She shrugged. “I like hanging out with Luke.” Brystol nuzzled the dog, who pushed himself into her embrace.

“He loves you. I used to think he was my best friend until you came along. You know, I tried to use him as a pillow, like I had seen you do before, and he growled at me.”

Brystol giggled, and it was the best sound he had heard in a long time. “Maybe I can visit him after you’re done working on my nonnie’s house?”

“Are you staying here?” he asked, knowing full well he was pumping the teenager for information about her mother. He wanted a little tidbit of information, something to tide him over until he came to his senses about Brooklyn.

“I told you earlier that I’m here every summer.”

“How come we haven’t seen you around then?” he fired back.

“Maybe you weren’t looking in the right places.”

“Touché, kid.” He brought his bottle of beer to his lips and took a long drink. The amber liquid wasn’t satisfying. “How old are you?”

“Fourteen. I’ll be a freshman in the fall.”

“Do you even go to school?” The question came out wrong, and before he could take it back or apologize, Brystol gave him a chiding look. He had seen it before. He had been on the receiving end of the same glare from her mother many, many times. He chuckled and decided the beer tasted just fine and took another drink. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“I’m homeschooled.”

All he could do was nod. He wasn’t a parent by any means but knew growing up this way was not what Austin would’ve wanted for his daughter. Of course, Austin would’ve had the girl fishing by now and probably spitting tobacco and wrestling gators or something.

“I know you don’t like my mom,” she blurted out.

He glanced at her but quickly turned away. Her eyes were sharp and accusing. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her mother. But not in the sense that he couldn’t be cordial. Bowie couldn’t explain his feelings for Brooklyn. He hated her and loved her at the same time.

“I . . . uh . . .”

“I know it’s a complicated adult matter. That’s what my mom says every time she wants to avoid talking about ‘adult’ things.” The use of air quotes caused Bowie to laugh, which made Brystol chuckle.

“I’d like to get to know you, Brystol. Maybe teach you some of the things your dad would’ve done if he were here.”

“Like how to fish?”

He smiled so wide he felt his cheeks stretch. “And how to sail. We could go hiking. Rock jumping. As much as your dad loved being on the water, he loved nature, and you’re in one of the most beautiful states there is to explore.”