Rebel Heart (Starlight Cove #6)
Chapter 1
LEVI
CHAPTER ONE
Some days, I would’ve preferred to throw my phone into the ocean than be on the receiving end of another fucking alert from the family text thread. It was a continuous stream of trivial bullshit, generally instigated by my little sister, so I rarely responded. And yet, the thread moved on just fine without me.
It made me wonder what else would move on fine without me.
Made me wonder what it’d be like if I just…didn’t exist anymore. If my family were preparing to commemorate the eleventh anniversary of my death instead of our mom’s. If I’d been the one who’d died on the boat that day instead of her. Or if my death had happened in the hundreds of other ways I’d willed it to over the years through reckless behavior alone.
But I knew why it hadn’t. Why I was still here, going through the motions. Left to suffocate under the weight of my regrets.
I didn’t deserve anything less.
I deserved to witness the wreckage I’d caused. To see the pain reflected on my siblings’ faces. Feel the heavy loss, not only of my mom, but of theirs, too, every day of my miserable life.
Addison:
Seriously
It’s in just a few weeks
I need to know
Stop ignoring these texts, Levi!
Since our mom’s death, I’d broken one of her only rules more times than I could count. Never sail alone. I’d gone out on the ocean on my own dozens—hundreds—of times, and nothing had happened, despite all my spoken and unspoken wishes otherwise.
I was still fucking here.
Yet she went out once by herself in a storm, and it was all over. A beautiful life snuffed out, taken away far too soon.
And it was all my fault.
Addison:
@Levi
@Levi
@Levi
Beck:
Jesus, will you stop? Go to his workshop if you need an immediate answer FFS.
Aiden:
It doesn’t matter how often you tag Levi. You know he’s not responding.
Addison:
brADY
Do a drive by
Brady:
I’m on duty, Addison.
Addison:
Perfect!
Ford:
Pretty sure that wasn’t a yes, little D.
I glanced over at my phone, the preview screen showing more than a dozen texts, all from my siblings and that fucking group text. Beck was on my shit list for suggesting our little sister pop over to my den of solitude, and Aiden was right. I had no intention of responding. Ford was, too, for that matter. As town sheriff, Brady definitely wasn’t going to use Starlight Cove resources to satisfy Addison’s demands.
The familiar hum of the belt sander filled my workshop, the sound soothing me in the same way the ocean’s waves did. Wood shavings rained down as I guided the machine along the hull of my current project. This ancient boat had seen better days, but it wasn’t a lost cause. Not yet anyway. In my fifteen years in this industry, I’d only encountered a handful of vessels that were. With grueling effort on my part—and a shit-ton of money on my clients’—most boats could be transformed back to their former glory, assuming I was the one restoring them.
My clients didn’t get a sparkling personality or excellent customer service when they worked with me, but they did get the best boatbuilder and craftsperson on the East Coast. And I got to make a living with minimal human interaction. Win-win all around.
Out here in my workshop, it was just me and whatever boat I’d been commissioned to build or fix. Exactly how I liked it—everyone leaving me the fuck alone.
Shutting off the sander, I swiped a forearm across my brow just as my phone buzzed with another text. My jaw ticked as I glanced over, prepared for more family bullshit, but it was my best friend’s—now brother-in-law’s—name on the screen.
Chase:
Don’t forget you have somewhere to be tonight.
Dropping my head back, I groaned toward the high ceiling. I hadn’t forgotten. It would’ve been impossible to since Chase had reminded me half a dozen times. But that didn’t mean I hadn’t tried.
Visiting his parents’ home was the last thing I wanted to do today—or ever, really. I loved the Lockharts like family, but going to the place that had been such a staple in my adolescence meant excavating memories I’d rather leave buried.
Without responding, I focused back on my work, running my hand along the hull of the 1930s Hacker-Craft. When she’d arrived at my workshop, a little worse for wear, I’d already been able to envision how this beauty would look once she was fully restored to her former glory. I wouldn’t stop until I made it happen. I reached for the sander, ready to dive back in, just as my phone buzzed again.
Chase:
I’m serious, dickhead. Stop ignoring everyone’s texts. Somehow my wife’s mad at ME for YOUR bullshit.
I had half a mind to text back and tell him I wasn’t ignoring anything—how could I when a text came in every thirty fucking seconds and constantly pulled me away from what I was paid to do?—but that I was simply choosing not to respond.
Chase:
No excuses about tonight. I already told Mom you’d be there, so she’s making your favorite. Don’t make her come find you because you know she will.
“Fuck.” Resting my elbows on my knees, I brushed the sawdust from my hands and blew out a heavy sigh.
Chase’s mom, Marianne, was the closest thing my siblings and I’d had to a mother in more than a decade. Being our mom’s best friend, she’d stepped up during our darkest days, when our own worthless father couldn’t be bothered to. Even when she didn’t have to. Even when we’d made it difficult. Even though I still made it difficult.
Which was why skipping out on one of her dinners made me an asshole.
I grabbed my phone and typed out a quick response.
Levi:
What time?
Chase:
5. Dad’s out of town for work, so she wants help with some shit before dinner. And bring wine.
It was already after four, which meant I needed to haul ass if I didn’t want to be late. After putting away my tools and locking up the warehouse, I headed the couple blocks to my apartment, doing my best to dodge all the wanderers. People were every-fucking-where—far more than usual—and that only soured my mood further.
Once at my apartment building, I took the stairs two at a time and let myself inside. The space was small, but it was quiet and away from my family’s resort. Most importantly, it was mine. That was all I needed.
After a quick shower, I pulled on a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt, ran a hand through my hair, and called it good enough. I made a quick detour to the kitchen to grab a bottle of Marianne’s favorite wine before heading out.
With the carnival beginning tomorrow and running through next week, tourists had already started flooding Starlight Cove, making Main Street a fucking nightmare. Navigating my bike through this clusterfuck would take too long, so I strode straight for the marina. The familiar scents and sounds of the ocean washed over me, solace and pain mingling together as always.
And, as always, I shoved the solace aside, undeserving of it, and focused on the pain instead.