Page 77 of Dirty Game


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“What do you mean?”

We walked down the wooden stairs. There were so many repairs the house needed. There were leaks under sinks. A few of the gutters had broken away from the house. And now I knew without power I was setting up the scenario for possible frozen pipes.

“I mean, let’s make this our island house. I’ll sell the business to Cole.”

I stopped in my tracks. “What?”

“Cole wants to build boats. There’s a pier here. We can build anything else we need. It’s where you grew up. You were happy here. I can see us here.”

I was amazed. Blown away. “You’re serious?”

He pulled me toward him. “Completely. Let’s do it. We’ll fix it up and it will be ready for us next summer.”

“You realize next summer there will be three of us.”

“Yeah, I do. You think I should buy some of those baby life jackets?”

“I don’t know how much boating we’re going to do.”

Blake held my hand, leading me down the stairs and toward the truck. I had one of the quilts wrapped around my shoulders. It was going to be a chilly ride over to his house.

“And before that?”

He opened the door for me.

“Are you asking about Orlando?” I looked at him.

“I am.”

“I’m there if you’re there. I’m here if you’re here.” I leaned into him. “I swear this girl is never leaving you again.”

He grinned. “I knew you’d leave this island with me.”

He was cocky, but I loved it because he was right.

Epilogue

I looked out over the water. The sun had almost set on another cold December day on the island. There were a few boats skimming the waves, making their way in for the night. I put the truck in reverse, cranked up the heat inside the cab, and made a U-turn out of Shell Point.

There were a few lights glowing on Shirley Lane. The clay pots spilled over with purple and gold pansies. I sighed as I passed the house. It was where everything had started. Again. I knew as long as I lived, I wouldn’t pass that house without thinking about Sierra and that summer. I shook my head and reached for the radio.

I slowed the truck before easing it onto a grassy lane. The grass was mostly brown now except for a few stubborn weeds, which refused to accept summer was long gone. I parked next to the marina office, but left the engine running. It was too cold to start the heating process all over again, and I knew Jojo would have the oysters ready for me.

“Well, look who’s here.” Jojo beamed from behind the counter.

“Hey, darlin’.” I strolled to the counter. “Did Willis get my order together?”

“Sugar, you know it.” Jojo walked out from behind the register and turned to the line of coolers near the door. “How many bushels you need?”

“I think one is plenty.” I withdrew cash from my wallet and placed it on the counter. I grabbed the canvas sack from her grasp. “Tell Willis I said thank you. I heard these were his best this year.”

“He’ll appreciate that, Blake.” She smiled. “Take care, honey.”

I heaved the fifty-pound sack into the bed of the truck and jumped into the cab, ready for the blast of heat. It didn’t matter to me what the temperature reading was on the dash; the cold had settled into all the nooks and crannies of the island. I continued south a few hundred yards. My thumb lightly drummed the top of the steering wheel. I couldn’t help but sing along with The Embers—somehow it made the summer not feel so far away.

I pulled the truck to the sound side of the house. From the windshield, I could see the low glow of a fire on the beach. Good. Cole’s at least got that going.

The oysters had slid to the tailgate. I reached over the side and retrieved the bushel Willis had sacked for me. By now, the sun had settled in the west, and the night sky was cast with a harvest moon that lit up the entire sound.

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