After All (Cape Harbor #1)(87)

Watching her father kid around with the man who Brooklyn knew was her future gave her hope, and right now she needed a lot of that hope to get through everything she was facing.

She went outside, needing a break from everything the hospital represented. The smells, the background noises, the uncomfortable chairs—it all meant waiting, and in her case waiting meant dying. The double door opened as she approached. She passed a man who carried a bouquet of flowers and balloons. A quick glance and she figured his wife had just had a baby boy. Her mom and dad, Carly, and Rennie had been the only ones at the hospital when she’d had Brystol, and they too had brought her flowers. She couldn’t remember if she’d had balloons in her room or not.

There was a bench not far from the double doors. She sat down on the wooden slats, leaned back, and closed her eyes. Even with the light breeze and overhead cloud cover, the sun was in perfect position to keep her warm. She let her mind drift, not to the past, but to the future. A future that finally included Bowie and them together. Before, when she had dreamed of what life could’ve been like if she had stayed, he had been there, but never fully. Austin’s death had always kept them apart, and she knew why. Carly. Out of fear of what she would think, Brooklyn had hidden her feelings, and now knowing that she didn’t have to hurt. She cried for the years they’d lost. Not only together but as a family.

Someone sat down beside her. She shifted slightly so the stranger couldn’t see her red puffy eyes and ask her if she was okay. She was afraid to answer a question like that. Was she okay? In a sense, maybe. She had a healthy child and a great job, and for the most part she was happy. Deep down she knew she’d be happier with Bowie, that Brystol would thrive in Cape Harbor, and she would as well. Her parents and Rennie would be close enough they could see each other whenever they wanted, but Carly and her deathbed confession lingered like a bad aftertaste.

The person beside her cleared their throat. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Grady sitting there. She shifted and looked at his disheveled state. The Grady she remembered, the one with boyish charm, a sweet baby face, and a crooked smile was gone and replaced with despair, anger, and age. The long-term alcohol abuse had aged him at least twenty years. He no longer looked like Graham’s twin but a distant relative.

“Grady.” She said his name softly. He turned and glared. His menacing stare had her turning away. Her stomach twisted, and her flight sense kicked in. She set her hand down on the metal armrest and prepared to stand. His hand clamped down on her wrist, holding her in place.

“You don’t get to walk away again.”

“Grady . . .”

“Don’t, don’t say my name.”

She looked at him again and saw years of sadness built up. She searched his eyes for some inkling that the Grady Chamberlain she grew up with was in there but found nothing. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? For being a whore?”

“It’s not—”

“Shut up!” he said loudly. “You don’t get to be sorry for anything. What you did to Austin.” He paused and took a deep, shuddering breath. “He fucking loved you.”

She shook her head as tears fell.

“If you think the town is going to accept you and Bowie as a couple, you’re mistaken. I’ll tell anyone who listens what you did to Austin the night he died. I will ruin the both of you.”

“You’re the town drunk, Grady. No one is going to believe you.” She ripped her hand from his grip. The damage was done, though; there was no way she could stay now. She stood and turned her back to him and took a few steps before turning around to say more to him, to tell him how wrong he was and what Austin had said to her. How they didn’t have the picture-perfect romance they had led everyone to believe. Grady was gone. Disappeared into thin air.

The double doors opened. The people coming out were laughing, something she couldn’t do. Not now. She took her phone out and sent a message to Bowie asking him to come outside. She wasn’t going to prolong the inevitable, not anymore. She had wasted too much of her life avoiding conflict.

Within a minute, Bowie walked out the door. He smiled as he came toward her, but it quickly faded. “What’s wrong?” He clasped his hand with hers and held on tightly as she tried to pull away. He brushed his thumb along her cheekbone, wiping away her tears. What she was going to do would break his heart, again. And shatter hers.

“Remember that job I told you about, the one that starts in October?”

He nodded.

“I’m going to take it. We can work out some custody arrangement with Brystol. I’ll send her here on vacations and whatnot. She’s homeschooled, and it’s all online. She works well independently, so she can come for longer periods at a time.”

“No,” was all he said.

She worked hard to keep her emotions in check. “It’s for the best. I shouldn’t have come back here. Grady . . .” She trailed off.

“Was he here?”

She nodded and bit her lower lip to keep her tears at bay.

“Fucking Grady,” he muttered. He said nothing else as he pulled her to her SUV. He opened the door and motioned for her to get in. “Don’t worry about Brystol; she’s fine. Get in.”

She did, and when he slid behind the steering wheel, she asked, “Where are we going?”