Page 85 of The Cherry Blossom Boathouse

“She was pregnant.”

Luke went completely still. “What?”

“My mom told me. Said she knew the woman who helped your mom with the adoption.” Abbey’s words came faster now, like a dam breaking. “So the part about your ma having a one-night stand with that city guy was true. She got pregnant and the baby—your brother or sister,” she added, those green eyes of hers all feeling, “was given up for adoption. Your mom did that for you, tried to start over with your dad, but she couldn’t live with herself. Couldn’t look at you or your dad without seeing her betrayal.”

Luke shook his head, trying to process it all. “So she ran,” he said eventually. “Just…ran away.”

Abbey shook her head. “It’s not as simple as that, Luke. She broke. Mom said she truly thought you were better off without her. She—”

The phone rang. “They can call back,” Abbey said.

“No, take it,” Luke said, trying to control his breathing, his thoughts.

Abbey took the call, watching him as she did. When she put it down, she looked at Luke. “Well, good news, your next booking’s been canceled. Wouldn’t want you going out there with the storm coming, anyway. Luke, I—”

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” Luke said, pushing away from the table and standing up. He paced the room, trying to grapple with all he’d just learned.

“I know it’s a shock,” Abbey said, looking pained. “I just felt you needed to know. That maybe it’ll help put things in perspective with Sophie.”

Luke gazed up at the darkening sky. The storm was building faster than he’d thought. The wind had picked up, whipping through the cherry blossom trees along the shore, bending their fragile branches. “I’m heading out.”

She looked at him in shock. “Luke, come on! It’s going to be crazy out there!”

“Need to clear my head.”

He grabbed his boat keys. Abbey rushed to the door, blocking his way. “Luke, don’t. Not alone. It’s too dangerous. You’re not thinking straight.”

He drew up to his full length and looked down at her. “Abbey, let me through.”

“Luke—”

“LET ME THROUGH!”

She flinched and he felt like shit. But she moved out of the way all the same and he took his chance, storming outside.

Ten minutes later, he was cutting across the lake, the boat slicing through water that was still relatively calm.

He thought about what Abbey had told him.

The months before she left, his mother had grown quieter, wearing those loose, flowing dresses instead of her usual fitted clothes. Then Luke’s dad had taken him away on a week-long fishing trip. When he returned, his mom was different: hollow-eyed, like someone had scooped out everything that made her his mother. The summer had dragged on with her moving through their house like a sleepwalker, staring out at the lake with tears sliding down her cheeks when she thought no one was looking.

Then one August morning, she was just…gone.

Christ. All these years, he’d painted her as selfish, weak. But she’d been drowning, and neither he nor his father had known how to throw her a rope.

Lightning flickered on the horizon, illuminating the angry clouds. The rain began to come down harder, each drop like a small accusation against Luke’s skin. The anger hit him again, swift and brutal. But why couldn’t she have just told him? He’d been thirteen, not three. Old enough to understand that people made mistakes. Instead, she’d left him to wonder what he’d done wrong.

And his father. His father had known. Had watched Luke blame himself for years and had never said a goddamn word.

Luke shook his head. Somewhere out there, he had a half-sibling who didn’t even know Solace Springs existed. A brother or sister his mother had given away while Luke slept down the hall, oblivious.

The wind shifted, now coming from the west in uneven gusts that rippled across the water’s surface. Luke focused on adjusting his course slightly to account for the strengthening crosswind.

If his pa—the most honest man Luke had ever known—could look him in the eye every day while hiding something this massive, then what the hell did that say about the dangers of getting close to people? His gut had been right about Sophie from the start. All that hesitation, that voice telling him to keep his distance: this was why. People lied. People kept secrets. People left. And there he’d been, ready to ignore every hard-learned lesson because of a pretty smile and the way she felt in his arms. Christ, he’d been a fool. The ache in his chest felt familiar now, like an old wound splitting open to remind him why he’d built those walls in the first place.

The boat carved through increasingly choppy water, spray starting to mist over the sides. Luke’s neck prickled with unease. Maybe he should head back? He was still a good three miles from the marina: maybe eight minutes at full throttle if the water cooperated.

As he thought that, a wave hit him broadside, lifting the boat and dropping it with a teeth-rattling slam.