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Home. It was a funny word lately. Dallas was where my apartment was. Where I kept my massive shoe collection and my journalism school diploma. The island wasn’t home anymore. But the memories had started to seep in in surprising ways. Familiar scents. Comfortable accents. Views that soothed my soul.
“Yeah, of course.” I tried to smile. “Tell Wendy not to worry about it.”
“Good. I knew you’d come through. We’ve missed you around here.”
“Thanks. I’ve missed it too.”
“See you next week.”
“Yep. See you soon.”
I hung up and realized my job of going through Aunt Lindy’s house had just become unsurmountable. There was no way I was going to get everything done in a week. I was crazy to think it would have been done in two.
That meant I was going to have to come back.
16
Blake
I pressed my palms into the sawhorses and closed my eyes. I couldn’t believe I was in here.
All I could smell was sawdust and turpentine. Everywhere I looked I saw him. Climbing the ladder with a bucket of paint. Arguing in the office about a bill someone refused to pay. But they were only memories. Dad was gone. He wasn’t going to barge in here and tell me I was doing this all wrong. He would know a better way to do it. He always had a better way than I did.
I picked up a tattered piece of sand paper and braced it between my hand and a piece of juniper. I smoothed the wood with the rough surface. The more I moved it back and forth, the sleeker the wood looked. I ground it harder, repeating the motion.
I got lost in it. The movement. The stillness of the barn. What it meant that I had opened the doors to his
sanctuary.
Ten minutes later, Cole entered the boathouse.
He stopped a few feet short of where I was sanding. “I can’t believe it.”
“Don’t say anything.” I gritted my teeth.
He folded his arms over his chest. “You weren’t in the house. Didn’t think you’d actually be in here.”
I nodded. “Needed something to do.”
I heard him break the seal on a beer. “Need one of these?”
I grinned. “Hell yeah I do.”
I threw the sand paper down and took one of the beers. “Thanks.”
“So, you opened the barn back up. Does that mean anything?” he asked, taking a seat on one of the empty sawhorses. His feet shuffled over wood shavings that littered the barn floor.
“No.” I chugged. “Means I needed to sand this juniper.”
“Right. Right. So it has nothing to do with a certain blonde who is leaving the island?”
My eyes shot to his. “What are you talking about?”
“I ran into Shirley when I bought the beer. She said Sierra has to head back to Texas in a couple of days. Something about work. You didn’t know?”
“Huh. No, I hadn’t heard. Good for her.”
“Man, really?”
