Chapter 40
CHAPTER FORTY
SAFE SPACE
DAHLIA
After the confrontation with my dad, I wasn’t sure I could ever relax again. But we were able to get a restraining order in place, and with the extra security around here, I’m not constantly looking over my shoulder.
Being away from my dad is so freeing.
I love my job.
I’ve never been able to say that, but here at Windhaven, I feel it down to my bones.
Every morning when I unlock my little office, I still get that flutter in my stomach like I’ve somehow snuck into someone else’s life.
The whole back wall is windows, and the view is out of this world.
Lake Superior stretches out like a sheet of silver, the cliffs standing proudly along the shoreline.
On windy days, the surf hits the rocks so hard I can feel it in the floorboards.
On calm mornings, the water is so smooth it looks like it’s holding its breath.
I sit at my desk and watch boats drifting out, gulls diving, and the sky showing off with insane colors.
It’s impossible to have a bad morning with that view.
And because the resort has recently been remodeled—and, in some areas, it’s completely new—everything is in perfect condition and top-of-the-line.
The North Shore has welcomed Windhaven with open arms, and it is the place to be. The numbers are showing it.
I adore Susan and Josie, the two people I work with the most. Everyone at Windhaven is funny and warm and open.
There’s no undercurrent of judgment or pressure, just genuine kindness.
I didn’t realize how tense I’d been in my old life until I came here.
I was always bracing myself for the next ball to drop.
Everyone has made me feel like I belonged from day one, and I feel appreciated.
And then there’s the bonus of getting to have lunch with Dylan a few times a week.
Sometimes he walks in unannounced, leaning in the doorway with that crooked grin, acting like he has no idea he’s the highlight of my day.
Sometimes I find him cleaning the boat or coming in from a hiking excursion and watch him with the guests.
We share sandwiches or something from The Kitty-Corner Cafe, but half the time we end up talking too much, and I’m eating back at my desk.
And Windy Harbor…it’s a dreamy place to live. I’ve fallen hard for this little town. Everyone’s nice in that nonchalant Minnesota no-nonsense kind of way.
Nothing feels rushed.
I love that this is where Chloe is going to grow up, surrounded by amazing people and beautiful nature.
Grandma Nancy and Grandma Donna have been watching her, but my mom comes and stays three nights a week, and while she’s here, Chloe is with her.
I wouldn’t be surprised if she ends up moving here too.
I hear two knocks and look up to see Dylan standing there.
“You looked so engrossed, I didn’t want to startle you,” he says.
“Come in,” I say, standing up to meet him halfway.
He puts his hands on my hips and leans in to kiss me. “I don’t want to go. Are you sure you can’t come with me?”
He has to go to California this afternoon to wrap up some last-minute repairs with the shop.
“It’s too soon to miss work at my new job,” I say, my hands tangling through his hair. It’s gotten longer, and I love it.
“I know people,” he whispers, leaning his forehead on mine. “I could get you out of work.”
I shake my head, and he sighs.
“You’re so good,” he says. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too. We haven’t spent a night apart in a long time.”
“I hate it already,” he says.
I nod sadly. “Well, hurry back.”
“You know I will.” He gives me a long kiss and groans when he pulls away. “I’d better go, or I’ll never leave.”
I’m feeling slightly mopey after he leaves, when my phone buzzes.
Goldie
Girls’ night. Can we all meet tonight at 7?
Yes. I think I can.
Erin
Ava and I are in.
Goldie
Oh, now you’re all Ava and I this, Ava and I that.
I giggle. Goldie has been riding Erin hard about keeping their relationship a secret. I think that was one secret too many for her. First Camden and Juju weren’t vocal right away when they got together, then Dylan and me…Ava and Erin were the last straw.
Ava
Blame me.
Goldie
You’re blameless, babe. Your girlfriend, however…never.
I crack up. If I didn’t know Goldie was laughing herself right now, I might be worried.
Juju
Okay, you guys. Am I going to have to break this up already? I want a peaceful girls’ night out.
Goldie
Womp womp. Buzzkill.
LOL
Erin
Don’t encourage her, Dahlia. And let’s not forget, I’m the one who gives people a hard time around here, Little Miss Goldie Sunshine. Chillax. So I’m in love with your sister—have you seen her?
Goldie
I’m covering my eyes and ears as I type this. No sister should have to hear this kind of talk.
Erin
Go find that man hunk of yours and have him take the edge off.
Juju
Let’s mix it up and go to The Hungry Walleye tonight. Is that okay? I had takeout from The Loon yesterday for lunch.
Goldie
Smooth Juju. Nice transition. The Hungry Walleye sounds good to me.
I’m still laughing as I type my response.
Can’t wait.
By the time I walk into The Hungry Walleye, the energy is already sky-high. Goldie waves me over with both arms, and the second I sit, she shoves a vodka cranberry into my hand. I told her one time that I like this drink, and now she makes sure I have one accessible when we’re together.
“We’re celebrating,” she announces.
“What are we celebrating?” I ask.
“I’m just in the mood to celebrate,” she says.
“God help us,” Erin mutters, but she’s laughing.
She’s wearing a shirt that says Flirting is my cardio.
Ava’s curled against her side, their shoulders pressed together, and Goldie zeroes in like a lion spotting prey.
“Do you know how many times I complained to Erin about her getting boring?” she asks, pointing her straw. “Meanwhile, she was out here living a double life!”
Erin groans. “To be fair, as we learned in the text thread, you would not have been comfortable if I’d told you I was getting horizontal with your sister.”
That cracks us up.
Ava chokes on her drink. “We were not horizontal every time.”
And we laugh harder.
“Oh, wow,” Goldie says, eyes huge. “You hear that? Not every time.”
“Did I really say that out loud?” Ava groans, covering her face.
Juju is laughing so hard she can’t breathe.
“Okay, next topic.” Erin claps once. “Juju and Camden.”
Juju’s entire face turns the color of a ripe tomato. “Can we not?”
“We cannot ‘not,’” Erin says. “You stare at that man like he’s a limited-edition collector’s item.”
“He is,” Juju says, starting to laugh again. “Do you know that he folds his laundry with military precision? That’s not normal, right?”
Ava lifts her glass. “To a tidy man that makes you blush.”
Juju buries her face in her arms.
“So how’s Milo?” Erin asks sweetly.
Goldie looks at her suspiciously. “I don’t trust that tone.”
“Do we need to talk about the man you look at like he’s the sun who’s solar-powering you?”
I’m laughing so hard my stomach hurts.
Goldie shrugs, unbothered. “He sure solar-powered me last night.”
We all cheers to that, laughing until I feel tears in my eyes.
And then, of course, I should have expected it. They all turn to me.
“Sooooo,” Goldie says, drawing the word out like she’s savoring it. “Dahlia.”
“Uh-oh,” I whisper.
Ava wiggles her eyebrows. “How’s our favorite surf boy?”
“Dylan’s in California, as you know,” I say, taking a huge sip of my vodka cranberry to buy time.
“Mm-hmm,” Erin says. “He’s the only wave you wanna ride. A tidal wave, keeping you wet at all times…” She grins. “There are just so many places you can go with the surfing references.” She lifts her hand. “Oh, the shirt ideas.”
I cover my face with both hands. “You’re all impossible.”
Juju pats my arm. “You get this cute little glow whenever you say his name.”
“I do?” I groan.
“You do,” they all say at once.
Goldie grins. “I have never seen two people more smitten. It’s adorable.”
Juju nods solemnly. “Like puppies. But sexy puppies.”
Ava groans. “Why would you say that?”
Juju shrugs. “Once you see it, you can’t unsee it.”
They start laughing again, and I’m right there with them—laughter bubbling up uncontrollably.
I can’t remember the last time I laughed this hard. Or felt this light. Or this included.
Windy Harbor has given me so much already.
The next morning, I walk down to the Friendship Bench after I say bye to my mom and Chloe. I woke up feeling apprehensive. Full—too full. Like if I didn’t talk to someone, the emotions might spill over the edges.
The sky is a soft, hazy peach above Lake Superior, and the waves are hitting the cliffs in slow, steady breaths. Grandma Donna is already there, her knitting needles clicking lightly, a small basket of yarn at her feet.
When she looks up and sees me, her whole face brightens. “Hello, dear. I’m so happy to see you. I didn’t know you were coming today.”
“I’m not on the schedule,” I say, suddenly shy. “Is it okay if I sit down?”
“Of course, dear. Have a seat.” She pats the empty spot beside her. “What’s on your mind?”
The words come out before I can organize them. “I think I just…can’t believe this is my life.” My voice wavers, and my throat goes thick. “It’s so wonderful. And I almost feel scared that it’s all going to go away because I’ve never been this happy.”
My eyes blur, and I blink quickly, but the tears win anyway.
Grandma Donna pats my hand and reaches into her yarn basket. “Happiness is a funny thing,” she says, fingers working with slow steadiness. “People think it comes with certainty, but it doesn’t. Happiness is a decision, but it’s also a risk. It’s a leap of faith.”
I swipe at my cheek. “A leap of faith?”
“Mmm.” She nods. “Most people think suffering is the brave thing. Getting through hardship, surviving loss, enduring disappointment…and there is certainly courage in that. But there’s a special kind of bravery in letting yourself enjoy something good without constantly preparing for it to disappear. ”
She glances at me and smiles.
“The love, the work, the peace. None of this is an accident,” she says. “You walked through fire to get here—quite literally, in some ways.” She gives me a soft smile. “And life didn’t hand you this happiness just to snatch it away. Sometimes good things come and stay, dear.”
Her knitting needles pause.
“And sometimes,” she adds, “you just have to let yourself believe you deserve them.”
I take a shaky breath, and it clears space inside me.
Without announcing it, she switches yarn colors and begins shaping something small, square, and soft. After a minute, she hands it to me—a knitted tissue holder in warm, variegated shades of lake-water blue.
“For your purse,” she says. “In case you have more of those ‘I love my life’ breakdowns. I hope they happen often.”
A laugh bursts out of me.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“You’re welcome.” She pats my knee, warm and reassuring. “I’m so glad you’re here. You make our boy so happy. And Chloe is the delight of all of our lives. Don’t wait for the sky to fall. You’re on solid ground here.”
I tuck the little knitted cover into my bag like it’s something sacred.