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I look at the album, splayed open beside the map, and bile skates up my esophagus. I don’t recognize that man, and more than that, I don’t trust him.
The fucked-up part in all of this is how devastated I am to be betrayed by someone who was supposed to love me. It’s fucked-up because I desperately don’t want to believe it, and yet, here we are.
“Logan, are you all right?”
Dec’s voice is weak compared to the blood pounding in my ears. My shirt feels like hay, scratching my skin, and desperate to be rid of the sensation, I yank it overhead.
Breaths sawing in and out of my chest, I spin, flattening my palms along the edge of the shelves behind his desk. “I-I can’t lose her again,” I croak, staring at my reflection. “He’s going to take her from me, Dec. Ida, Seaside, and Summit. Everything I care about, gone.”
“Hey.” He takes two cautious steps toward me as if I’m some wild beast. “It’s okay. Take a deep breath for me.”
I try, honest to god, I do, but I’m trembling with the weight of my father’s deep-rooted governance when I meet my frantic gaze in the mirror.
My eyes cling to the gnarled, unnaturally white marks beneath my collarbones and scattered across my pecs. I can practically feel his hand splitting my lip, feel it cupped across the back of my neck, punishingly.
“We’re going to figure this out, Logan. Just tell me what you need.” Declan securely folds a hand over my bare shoulder, and agonizingly slowly, that touch brings me back.
Pain. I need pain.
I shake my head furiously. I won’t turn back down that road. I won’t give him another way to control me.
It hits me then.
What I need is my safe space, my rock, my anchor in a sea of chaos. I need the woman who’s my home when I have nowhere else to land and no solace to greet me.
What I need is, “Penelope.”
* * *
Returning to Augustine is like traveling back in time. The area is much more rural than the rest of the island, and I always admired how detached it was from the city.
Below the skyscraping mountains, rays of sunlight compliments the natural waterfalls and rivers that run through the landscape, feeding miles of lush farmlands and vibrant green forests.
It’s breathtaking, and that’s saying a lot, considering I’m struggling for air as I coast the final bend onto Patrick’s property. Dust billows up behind my rear tires, and through the vents, the familiar scent of hay and horses tickles my nose.
So many memories in what was a blink in our lives. But at one point, this community—this family—was everything to me. I woke up every day with the same sense of purpose I’ve found in my plans for the harbor, with a girl who wore colorful dresses and demanded I experience life and happiness with nothing more than a smile.
I amble my way up the drive, taking in every change that’s been made to the property. Someone remodeled the old barn we used to escape to with fresh red paint, new doors, and bushels of vivid wildflowers planted at its base.
From the top of the drive, I can just make out what was once the house we lived in, nestled in that damn pasture.
Standing inside a small paddock, I spot Penelope and her dad brushing and feeding a speckled horse, who pauses between bites to nudge her any time she stops.
My heart thunders wildly inside my chest, still filtering the heightened emotions from yesterday, and when I put the car into park, my knee bounces with uncontrollable nerves.
I’m usually calm and collected when facing a challenge, but unsurprisingly, I can’t hold it together where she’s concerned.
I kill the engine and shove the keys into my pocket before stepping onto the gravel drive.
Loose pebbles crunch and roll beneath my dress shoes, dust already coating the hem of my slacks as I step toward them. The mid-morning sun coats my exposed arms and neck in a gentle warmth that dances across Penelope’s features.
She’s breathtaking in a cream crocheted dress and a pair of dirty boots. Right at home.
Unaware of my presence, I relish her tender affair with the sun’s embrace, a willing voyeur to her radiant connection with the burning star.
“Logan,” Patrick says, startled to see me at the fence.
“Mr. Vance.” I swallow uncomfortably, slipping my hands inside my pockets and hoping like hell he doesn’t tell me to fuck off before I can say my peace. “I was hoping to have a word with you and your daughter.”
