She popped out of the kitchen the minute his boots hit the wood floor of the entry. He’d been lying to Lara when he’d said things didn’t change. Because things did. Every time he came back, everyone looked a little older. Wild Rose Point felt a little different, altered by the wind or the sea or the years.
But not Mary Lou. Her hair was the same shade of dark brown it had always been—a gift from the beauty parlor, she liked to say. The wrinkles on her face never seemed to procreate, and she moved with the energy of someone half her age.Always.
Thank God.
She crossed the space between them in quick strides and enveloped him in a hug. Whatever perfume she always wore wassomething unique to Mary Lou. He’d never smelled it anywhere else. It, as much as this place, as much as this woman, was home.
“You haven’t been taking care of yourself,” she told him as she pulled back, swatting him on the shoulder.
She always said that to him—no matter if it was true or not. He probably hadn’t been this time around though. It was harder than he’d thought, accepting baseball was never going to work out. Not because he still loved it. The grind had worn him down into some kind of shell. He was happy to be done with the endless churn of not knowing, waiting, trying so hard to get damn nowhere.
But that didn’t mean it had been easy to accept that everything he’d worked his entire life for was a failure. So, no, he probably hadn’t been taking care of himself the last few days of packing up his life for the millionth time and heading home to Wild Rose Point.
“Guess it’s a good thing I’m home,” he told her.
She only grunted, as was her way, but she held onto him and pulled him into the kitchen, Lara trailing behind.
It was strange how the older he got, the more far away he was, every time he stepped into this kitchen he was hit with the memory of the first time.
Before. When there’d been three other kids running around besides just him and Lara. When he’dswornLara’s dad was one of the few people who could look at him and justknowhis dad had landed a few blows that morning.
One day Ty had stood up for two little girls getting pushed around on the bus, the next he’d been welcome into afamilylike nothing he’d ever known. No alcohol. No beating. Nosports.
Just laughter and happiness and fun.
And love.
He knew why Lara didn’t leave. She knew all too well what it was to lose everything in a moment. And still, he didn’t knowhow she lived, day in and day out, with the weight of all those memories in every corner.
Most days, he figured she was the strongest woman he knew.
Mary Lou pulled a sheet of cookies out of the oven, fussed over getting them all something to drink while they cooled. Then she piled them high on a plate and set it in the middle of the little kitchen table he’d always,alwaysbeen welcome at. No matter how full or empty this house had been.
“It sure is nice to be back with my two favorite ladies and the best cookies known to man.”
But Mary Lou was looking at him in that stern way she had, and Lara with worry in her hazel eyes.
No, he never could fool the Townsends.
“You can’t stay with your father.”
Mary Lou’s words were flat and certain. Ty had always appreciated that about Mary Lou. She didn’t equivocate. She didn’t beat around the bush or try to manipulate. She just said it like it was.
“Just for a few days until I get something else worked out. It’s not so bad.”
It was, and he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone at this table. Still, a man nearing thirty couldn’t take handouts. At least this man wouldn’t. No, he wasn’t his father. No handouts. No depending on someone else to fix his life. He was in charge. He was going to handle it.
“You’ll stay here until you’ve figured it out,” Mary Lou repeated.
“Mary Lou?—”
“You spent near thirty years doing what that man told you, and what’s it gotten you? A fat lot of nothing.”
“Gee, thanks.” Her ‘saying it like it is’ wasn’talwayswelcome, he decided in the moment. Because he knew what a fatlot of nothing he’d ended up with, but it hurt when someone else pointed it out.
“Why wouldn’t you stay here?” Lara asked. She had a softer way about her than her grandmother. Oh, she was stubborn underneath it, but it was hidden under a layer of sweet.
Underneath their opposite outer shells, the two Townsend women were exactly the same.
