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“Vodka tonic, please.” I ignore him as I smack a fifty-dollar bill against the counter.
His scowl only deepens. “No.”
“Seriously?”
He crosses his bulging arms against his chest. “Isabelle warned us about you.”
For fuck’s sake. Did they have a town hall meeting about me?
“What did she say?”
The veins in his arms jump. “We’re not allowed to serve you.”
“Of course you’re not. That’s fine. I’ll just take my money elsewhere.” I snatch the bill and pocket it. I’m sure a nearby town will be more than happy to take my money and help me avoid an exchange like this again.
“Go to hell!” someone shouts from across the bar.
Little do they know, I’m already there.
Things finally feel like they’re falling into place for me. Lana has even trusted me with a key to the house again after I needed access to it and she had plans for the weekend.
Even packing has gone smoothly over the last week. Most of my grandpa’s items are cleared out of the attic, and the only thing left is to pack up is my old bedroom. It’s located at the farthest corner of the house, a long way away from the childish giggling happening on the other side of the second floor.
Walking into my childhood room feels like I’ve been launched directly into the past. Besides a few taped boxes stacked in a corner, the place looks untouched. Even the glow-in-the-dark stars Lana and I superglued to the ceiling over two decades ago remain, although a few are missing or hanging by a single point. The window overlooking the lake snags my attention in the same way it did years ago when I picked this room as mine.
My brothers never understood why I wanted the smallest room located in a cramped corner of the house, but I thought the answer would be obvious if they took a moment to look out the bay window.
It feels strange to return here after six years away. I’m not sure why my grandpa and Señora Castillo kept the room the same, but it feels like it’s been trapped in time.
The floor-to-ceiling shelves covering each of the three other walls feature the model boats I built during my summers here. From my first sailboat to a mini version of theTitanic, each boat holds a fond memory of a summer spent at Lake Wisteria. Of Lana and me staying up far too late working on them in the study.
My throat tightens as I stare at the last ship we started building the summer of my accident. TheUSS ConstitutionLana bought me for my birthday sits unfinished on the lowest shelf, looking abandoned with its incomplete hull facing toward the ceiling.
You never had a chance to finish it together.
My chest throbs.
“Whoa.”
I turn on my heels to find Cami staring up at the shelves with wide eyes. “Did you make that?” She points at a replica ofLa Candelariasitting on the highest shelf, far away from anyone who could accidentally knock it over.
My throat tightens. “Yeah.”
“Really?” She looks over at me with a strange expression.
I nod.
“What about that one?” She directs my attention toward the shelf above the window, where an Elizabethan Navy Rowan warship model sits, the wood dulled from the amount of dust and cobwebs covering the hull.
“Yup.”
“And that one too?” There is a special sparkle in her eyes as she checks out the Viking ship.
“I made all of these with your mom.” Hopefully that will answer any lingering questions she might have.
She gasps. “My mom? How?” Her forehead wrinkles from her pinched expression.
You spoke too soon.
