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Chapter One
CROUCHED ON THE worn hardwood floor beside the shelf he was building, Trent Rockwell sat back on his heels, turned the hammer over in his palm, and listened to the sounds of the island. Crickets, tree frogs, and occasional distant voices snuck in through the open windows of the old gristmill, bringing back great memories of growing up on Rockwell Island with his four younger siblings. The familiar sounds of his youth had nearly been erased by the constant noise of New York City, where he’d been living for the past ten years. He’d been back on the island just shy of two months, returning after his stodgy grandfather, Chandler Rockwell, demanded that Trent and his siblings take over management of the prestigious Rockwell Resort.
It had been a blessing in disguise. Trent had been contemplating returning to the island for quite some time, but finagling a way to do so without losing his successful law practice had kept him from making the move. Now that his grandfather was in his mideighties and had suffered two heart attacks in recent years, Chandler Rockwell had needed to make a drastic change. Trent wondered if his grandfather had somehow known that his grandchildren had needed a change, too.
While two of his younger siblings, Ethan and Sierra, had made the island their home after college, Trent and his other siblings, Quinn and Derek, had built their careers on the mainland. But in the weeks since they’d returned to take over the resort, Quinn had already fallen in love with Shelley Walters, who had been vacationing on the island—and she’d fallen so deeply in love with Quinn and the island that she’d never left. They’d moved in together, and Shelley had bought the old gristmill, where she was opening an organic coffee shop called Shelley’s Café. After weeks of renovation, which Trent and his brothers were handling, her café was almost ready for its grand opening.
Trent’s life had also changed drastically since coming home. After watching Quinn and Shelley fall madly in love, he had begun to take stock of his own life and reclaim aspects that had been missing for too long, like time off from work to enjoy being with friends and family. After years of grueling hours sitting behind a desk with his mind entrenched in legal jargon, he no longer pored over legal documents until all hours of the night. Instead, he once again found relaxation and enjoyment in working with his hands, preferring to come to the gristmill and work late in the evenings, long after his other siblings had called it a night.
Scents of Cape Cod Bay swept over Trent’s bare chest like a caress, stirring memories that had kept him up at night long before he’d moved back to the island. His mind drifted to a summer ten years earlier, when in the space of six short weeks, he’d met, fallen in love with, and married Reese Nicholson. She’d been just nineteen years old to his twenty-six, with hair as blond as spun gold and gorgeous brown eyes that were like windows to her enormous warm and loving heart.
Without the distraction of overtime hours, the questions Trent had been asking himself for a decade kept rising to the forefront of his mind: If he hadn’t worked seventy hours a week, if he’d paid more attention to Reese’s needs and slowed down enough to put her first—above his career, above the need to socialize in the circles that had secured his rising to the top of the practice—would they have split up six months after their wedding? Or could they have made their relationship work?
He rose to his feet, trying to push past the familiar tightening in his chest. But he never could escape thoughts of Reese for very long, and since coming back to the island, it felt like she was everywhere—even though she’d been in Oregon helping her sister with her new baby ever since Trent had returned.
Still, her absence hadn’t stopped the memories from assaulting him at every turn. It didn’t help that her gallery was right across the street from the gristmill. Hell, Trent couldn’t even pass the local beach without seeing the image of Reese, looking angelic in her wedding gown. He still heard her sweet laugh in the brushing of the leaves in the wind. And even now, as the breeze wrapped around his chest again, it was her fingers he felt trailing along his skin.
Who was he kidding? He hadn’t been able to escape thoughts of her since he’d come home to the apartment they’d shared in New York City ten years ago with a diamond bracelet and a bottle of champagne on their six-month anniversary...and found the Dear Trent note that had ended their marriage.
I never thought I’d write you a note like this, and I know it’s—
