Chapter 8
Kaleb
D espite all her “make it five” swagger, I spot Brooke in a long line after class. I don’t take it personally.
“Kaleb, hey!” With a sheepish smile, she points to the front where Erika’s answering questions. “Sorry,” she says, taking two steps as the group shuffles forward. “I want to apologize to her. She put all this work into her presentation, and we stole the spotlight.”
“Are you kidding?” I catch Erika’s eye, and she gives me a thumbs-up. “People will be talking about this Lagers and Learning for years.”
My head mechanic shouts at me over the crowd. “Thanks, boss,” she calls. “Do that again next month?”
The rush of pink in Brooke’s cheeks says there won’t be a replay. As long as I have her tonight, that’s fine. “I still want to ask her some questions,” Brooke says. “Also, I’m not sure I believe you. How does our kiss help her?”
“Everyone loves drama. Especially the sexy kind.” I cue up my phone to show my appointment log, texting a screenshot to Erika. “Spencer-King Auto got sixteen new bookings in the last hour, and fifteen requested her.”
Erika whoops from the head of the line. “That’ll be a sweet bonus check.”
I turn back to Brooke, who looks more appeased. Mostly. Something’s on her mind as she takes another step forward. “Okay, but can I still ask my question? It won’t take long.”
“Of course.” I don’t even ask what it is. Some women prefer chatting with Erika and not taking a risk on mansplaining.
Which I swear I don’t do, but I still understand. “Want me to give you Erika’s number so you can text your question?”
“Absolutely not.” Brooke looks horrified. “I’m waiting my turn like everyone else.”
“No sweat.” I’m glad for the extra ten minutes to tidy my place. I didn’t come here tonight expecting to bring Brooke home. “You know where I live. Come by when you’re ready.”
“Okay.” Brooke bites her lip. “Look, I know we got caught up in the moment. I turned it into this whole public thing, but don’t feel like you need to?—”
“Brooke?”
“Yes?”
“I need to.” I dip down to taste her, brushing her lips with mine. “Trust me.”
“Okay.” The tips of her ears turn pink. It’s cute as hell.
“See you when you get there.” I step back and head for the door, conscious of catcalls behind me.
I’m ten feet away when my brother heads me off. “Record night for drink sales.” Mason hoists a tray of empty glasses. “Please suck face with customers at every Lagers and Learning.”
“Go away.” There’s no chance I’m living this down. Good thing I’m too cheerful to care.
Mason stacks two more steins on his tray. “I’m thinking of changing the name to Lagers, Learning, and Lascivious Leering. Catchy, right?” He adds two more empties to the pile. “No joke, dude—we sold more beer tonight than at Superbowl. Serving staff’s thrilled with the tips.”
“Great.” I feel a little responsible for the extra drinking, so I pull out my phone. “I’m texting Edgar to get out the Sober Starship.” I worked with Cal’s dad to rebuild an old school bus we deploy on nights like tonight. Harper helped paint it with an outer space theme. “Free shuttle rides for anyone who needs one.”
“Thanks, man.” Mason sets down his tray, expression serious for a moment. “You make plans with Mom yet?”
“No.” Why is he bringing this up?
“She mentioned it last week. Said she left a few messages.”
“I’ve been busy.” Fucking Mason, killing my vibe.
“Just see her, okay?” My brother claps my shoulder. “Rip off the Band-Aid.”
Easy for him to say. “Fine.”
“Good workshop, man.” He glances at Brooke. “I like her.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
“Don’t fuck it up.” With a grin, my asshole kid brother walks off.
Out in the lot, the night feels cool and damp. I didn’t bring a coat, but it doesn’t matter. I live six blocks away, which is nothing on clear nights like this. Nights where I could stick my hand in the air and grab a fistful of stars.
Crisp ocean air licks my earlobes, so I pull a beanie from my pocket and tug it on. I’m grinning like an asshole the whole time.
Brooke’s coming over.
She shocked the hell out of me with that kiss. Sure, I egged her on. If I’m honest, I probably had ulterior motives when I bought her that gift card for Hayley’s place.
“You met someone special?” Hayley asked as she folded the card into its pink envelope.
“It’s no big deal.” We both knew that wasn’t true.
“You deserve someone sweet, Kaleb.” She smiled as she gave me the card. “Someone who gets what a great catch you are.”
I think of that now as I head up the stairs and shove open the unlocked front door. Ribsy knocks me back as I step over the threshold. “Hey, girl.” I give her a good, long ear rub. “Have you been good?”
She licks my face in response.
“Thought so.”
She’s wagging so hard she knocks a shopping bag off my end table. “Nice aim.” I peek inside and… oops.
“Thanks for not eating a box of condoms.” Totally forgot I bought those last week. “For the record, I replace them when they expire.” Why am I explaining my sex life to a dog? “It’s not like I go through a ton of them.”
Ribsy cocks her head.
“I swear I didn’t buy them with Brooke in mind.”
The dog doesn’t believe me. She gives a low woof of disapproval.
“Don’t judge,” I grumble. “You’re spayed.”
I run the condoms to the bedroom and spend three minutes throwing dirty socks in the hamper and shoving plates in the dishwasher.
Ribsy wags herself senseless as I hook up her leash. “Let’s go.”
We set out walking toward the beach, which is just across the road. I keep one eye on the lot in front of my shop, watching for Brooke’s car. I follow the smooth stone steps that lead down to the shore. As my feet touch the sand, I unhook the leash.
“Do your duty.” I root through my pocket for a dog doo bag. “Stay close so I can pick it up like a goddamn grownup.”
Ribsy woofs.
“Fine,” I agree. “Like someone trying to be a grownup.”
A voice calls out in the dark. “Kaleb.”
I jump as Ribsy starts barking her fool head off. It turns to an overjoyed yip as she spots my mother moving toward us through the sand.
Mom stoops down to greet my dog. “Hi, baby.” As she scratches Ribsy’s ears, I use those three seconds to regain my composure.
“Mom.” I stuff both hands in my pockets. “What are you doing out?”
She straightens and looks at the ocean. “I missed walking on the beach at night.”
A muscle ticks in my jaw. “You lived at the beach.”
She doesn’t respond right away. “Yes.”
It’s the first she’s confirmed what I already knew.
When Lucy and Peter tracked her down, they found her in Eastern Oregon. Four-hundred miles from the coast.
When I heard that, I knew it couldn’t be right. No way could Mom live with that much space between her and the ocean.
But by then, I knew anyway. I knew what I’m still not admitting to anyone. Not to myself, and not to my siblings.
Why is she here?
“I missed seeing this beach at night.” She’s still looking at the sea, but I catch the moment her gaze shifts to Spencer’s Rock. The formation named for her family. “I missed this place.” She turns back to face me, hugging herself with both arms. “I missed you.”
I don’t respond. I’m not opening this can of worms tonight.
“I should get home.” I glance back toward my place as headlights slash though the darkness from the road up above. Brooke’s Audi arcs into a spot at my place. “I have plans.”
Mom cranes her neck to look. “Brooke?” She doesn’t wait for an answer “You’re in love with her, huh?”
“I barely know her.” The nerve of my mother.
“I knew with your dad.” Her eyes shift to mine. “The moment we met?—”
“You knew what?” Gritting my teeth, I face her full-on. “You knew you’d have a buttload of kids with the man, then disappear for months on end?” A dam breaks inside me. “You knew you’d go to rehab over and over, then get out and start using again?”
“Kaleb, I—” She stops and shakes her head. “You’re right.”
I don’t want to be right.
“I forgive you for that.” It’s hard goddamn work not yelling right now. “I always have.”
“I—thank you.”
She shouldn’t fucking thank me. Her addiction was never the source of my anger. “You’re sick and you self-medicated. Oldest story in the book. I don’t blame you for your illness.”
She watches my face in the darkness. “I’m glad to hear you’ve forgiven me.”
But I haven’t. Not for all of it.
“You faked your own death.” I watch for the flinch, but there isn’t one. “You let everyone think you were dead.”
She looks in my eyes as I wait for what’s coming. “Not everyone.”
“I don’t have time for this.” Rage fills my chest, or maybe just surges. It’s always been there, from the moment I found what she put on my counter.
“You fucking left us.” I sound like a lost little boy and I know it. “Left and didn’t come back until Lucy found you.”
Mom touches my arm, then draws back. “It was wrong and I know it.” She hesitates. “If anyone could handle it, I knew it was you. You were always my best Mr. Fixit.”
I can’t look at Mom, so I stare at Spencer’s Rock. My jaw’s clenched as tight as my fists as I stare at the murky black shape in the darkness. I’ve known my whole life it was named for my family. For Mom’s side, the Spencers. Lucy says it looks like a giant boob.
“I need to go.” My chest aches like that giant-ass boulder fell over on top of me. It’s hard to breathe.
“Kaleb—”
“I can’t do this now.” I turn on my heel, whistling for Ribsy. My hands won’t stop shaking as I rehook her leash.
“Honey.” Mom’s voice floats on the soft shush of waves. “When you’re ready to talk?—”
“I’m not.” Ribsy whines at my side as I storm up the steps and head for the shop without looking both ways before crossing.
Brooke’s car door swings open as I approach. She jumps in surprise when she sees me. “Kaleb,” she says. “Sorry I took so long. I was dictating a note about— oh .”
Whatever she says gets crushed by the force of my kiss. I grab Brooke with both hands, letting the leash fall to the ground. I’m not gentle or sweet or anything other than desperate.
With a soft little squeak, Brooke staggers back. She pulls me down with her, clutching the front of my shirt as I press her back against her car. I kiss her hard as a side mirror digs into my hip.
I don’t know how long it lasts. Under the stars, under the spell of lust and hurt and betrayal. So many emotions, but one surges right to the surface.
“I want you,” I say when we break apart.
She smiles as she searches my eyes. “Are you okay?”
“I am now.”
Ribsy whines and I unclip her leash. She trots up the stairs to slurp from her dish on the landing above. I don’t take my hand off Brooke for a second.
“Okay.” She studies my face and must be all right with whatever she sees. She pulls me down for a kiss even fiercer than the last. We’re hunger and need and something I can’t quite explain.
When we pull apart this time, Brooke bites her lip. “How did you know?”
“Know what?” I force my lungs full with a shuddery breath.
“That I needed that. This.” Her hand sweeps between us, which is tough since we stand chest to chest. “I know I talked a big game at the bar, but things got emotional when I was talking with Erika and?—”
“She upset you?” I must have missed something.
“No, that’s not it.” Brooke swallows and flutters her hand again. “Forget about that. About anything that doesn’t involve you and me heading upstairs right now to rip off our clothes and— oh .”
I should maybe stop doing that. Cutting her off with a kiss or a move that doesn’t leave much room for talking.
“Uh, Kaleb?” She speaks to my back, since I’ve thrown her over my shoulder like a goddamn neanderthal. “I can walk, you know.”
“I’m aware.” I take the stairs two at a time. Ribsy dances at the top, loving this game.
Brooke presses her palms to my back. “Good lord, you’re strong.”
It’s more that I’m fueled by lust and adrenaline. Does it matter, since Brooke’s in my arms? That was the goal, after all.
At the top of the stairs, I shove open my door. Ribsy races ahead and bounds to her bed, which seems like an excellent plan. I toss her a biscuit from the jar on the counter, then start for my bedroom with Brooke in my arms.
“You’re really not going to put me down?” She sounds more bemused than annoyed. “This shouldn’t be hot.”
“It is, though.” With her perfect ass tucked by my ear and her palms pressing into my back, she feels it, too. I know this like I know the number of steps to reach my bed.
Too many.
“I’ve never been carried like this.”
“Sorry to hear that.” I’m not. “You’ve got a body that begs to be manhandled.”
“And you’re the man to handle me?”
“For tonight I am.”
With a feathery laugh, she stretches her arms down my back. Her hands find my butt and squeeze hard. “You have a fantastic ass.”
I love this side of Brooke. She’s playful and sexy and unbearably hot as I lay her back gently on my bed. In the glow of my bedside lamp, her fiery brown eyes blaze.
Brushing hair off her face, I skim a thumb over her cheekbone. “You are fucking stunning.”
She laughs and shrugs off her cardigan sweater. “You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Fixit.”
My heart shrivels up, but who cares? I won’t be needing that tonight. This is lust, pure and simple. No hearts involved.
Just Brooke and me and the next several hours of making each other see stars. “This can’t be anything big.” I need to get this out there. “Not a relationship or a long-term thing like?—”
“Kaleb?” She catches my shirt and yanks, bringing my face close to hers. “Stop telling me what it isn’t and show me what it is.”
The heat in her eyes drives me wild. “Anything in particular you want?”
“You,” she says. “Inside me in thirty seconds or less, please.”
“Can do.” Maybe not thirty seconds, but I’ll do my best.
My hands shake with desire as I shove her sweater aside. So many emotions swirl up through my chest—longing, lust, need—so I push down the ones that don’t fit.
Guilt. Shame. Anger.
They’ve got nothing to do with what’s happening here. With the woman who makes me forget all that.
I kiss Brooke so hard that she arches beneath me, releasing a moan. Her hands grip my shoulders as I kiss down her throat, laying claim to so much sweet, soft flesh. As I nip at her ear, her nails rake my shoulder.
“Kaleb, please.”
The begging undoes me, so I undo her jeans. She’s wriggling her hips, shucking her pants like they’re on fire. We manage to wrangle my jeans off my hips, and she uses her feet to shove them over my legs. I kick them aside and stand up to peel off my tee.
“Ditch your shirt,” I tell her. “Leave the bra.”
“Yes, sir.” With a sexy grin, she sits up. Starlight seeps through my blinds, leaving slices of light in her hair. She’s bare from the waist down, my navy-blue bedspread pooled at her hips. As she whips off her tank, my breath stalls.
“Nice bra.” God, she’s beautiful.
There’s a sweet shyness in her smile. “I bought matching panties.” She casts a dubious look at her jeans on the floor. “They’re down there somewhere.”
“I’ll admire them later.” I finger the strap on her bra, willing myself to go slower. To savor this moment. “Soft.”
“It’s washable silk.” A giggle slips out and she blushes. “I don’t know why that’s funny.”
“Wasn’t talking about the fabric.” Her skin feels like flower petals. Like the dandelions Mom would brush under my chin, checking to see if the pollen rubbed off.
“You’re yellow under there,” she’d say. “It means you like butter.”
Butter. That’s what it feels like in the center of my chest. Melty and warm and liquid. I finger the strap of her bra.
“I like this color.” The syrup of lamplight makes it hard to see. “Is it blue?”
“Sort of a silvery blue.”
“My favorite.”
“I know.” She smiles when I give her a look. “Your ex-girlfriend told me. This was after she touched my boobs, but before she helped me pick bras to turn you on.”
“Hayley?” I don’t know where to start with that. “We went out in middle school.”
“I know, she told me.” Brooke shifts her weight on her heels. “It wouldn’t matter if you’d dated six years. That’s not what this is about.”
I think she means this, whatever’s between us. This thing we’ve agreed can’t be serious. That makes me feel better, and yet?—
“We’re breaking the rule in your book.” I don’t move my hand, though I’m dying to touch her. “Can you live with that.”
“Yes.” She gives me a smile that’s certain and warm. “It’s always a work in progress. Grief?” Her eyes search mine and she shrugs. “What we needed six months ago can be different from what we need now. It’s okay to evolve.”
“I agree.” We might both be making excuses, but why split hairs? I want her so much I can’t think straight.
My fingers skim one silky bra cup. She shivers as goosebumps tickle her flesh. “Touch me.”
“I am touching you.”
“No, touch me .” Cupping my shoulders, she pulls me down close. My hands skim her back, finding their way to the clasp of her bra. The urge to strip her bare overwhelms me.
“Kaleb,” she gasps as her breasts spill free.
I roll her back, cupping both breasts in my hands. There’s not a damn stitch of clothing between us.
“Look at you, Brooke.” I tease both nipples with my thumbs and she moans. “Look at how sexy you are.”
“ Fuck .” It’s a strangled cry as I spread her legs wide with my hips. I’m using my arms to hold myself back. To avoid sinking deep inside her.
She arches beneath me, hungry for friction. “Please.”
Her hips tilt up as she tries to make contact. Slick heat travels the length of my cock and I nearly lose my mind.
With one firing brain cell, I yank open the nightstand drawer. “Condom,” I growl, and she grabs it from my hand.
“Let me.” She tears it open. “I taught a sex positivity class in grad school. I’m very efficient with condoms.”
“That might be the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
She laughs and rolls it on, wrapping her legs around me. Her hand grips my cock, angling me right at her center. “I’ll die if you don’t get inside me right n— oh !”
And just like that, I’m buried in Brooke. My God . She’s hot liquid fire and so snug I nearly embarrass myself. Stilling my hips, I fight to hold on.
“Kaleb?”
I open my eyes and she’s watching me. Her hand cups my face as she searches my eyes. “All good?”
I can’t find my voice, but I nod. Slow as I can, I start to move. Brooke’s eyes flutter wide, her mouth forming a soft O .
“How are you—how is this so?—”
I know . I can’t quite form words, which works fine for both of us. Our bodies form sentences, paragraphs, novels brimming with flowery phrases.
Has sex ever felt like this?
“No.”
I wince when she stiffens, then kiss her to erase what I’ve said. “It’s not me,” I murmur between kisses. “Not me at all, but us .”
She smiles and then arches beneath me, gasping as I drive in again.
Here’s something I’ve heard from old lovers:
You never make eye contact when we fuck.
But with Brooke it feels different. I can’t stop devouring the blaze in her eyes as I move inside her. We’re fused together somehow. Some invisible tether ties us together and I can’t look away.
It’s just sex.
I remind myself that’s all this can be. Just pleasure, and fuck —How is this feeling so good?
“Kaleb.” She gasps and arches again. “Oh, wow.”
She clenches around me, eyes going wide. I won’t hold out long like this. She feels too good, too snug and hot and so perfect around me.
I need to slow down. Switch positions or stop staring deep in her eyes.
“I’m there, oh Kaleb .” She bows off the bed as her body goes rigid.
“ Yes .” Her orgasm unleashes something inside me. I let out a howl, something primal and not really human. I’m normally quiet in bed, but right now I’m unhinged.
“Brooke.” As pleasure unspools in my core, I call out her name again. “Brooke, Christ .”
“Yes, yes, yes !” She squeezes her eyes shut, nails digging sharp in my shoulder blades.
Somehow we come down, the ebbs of my orgasm fading as I slow and then stop. When Brooke’s eyes flutter open, she smiles. “Damn.”
“No joke.” I roll to my side, panting and still seeing stars. “What the hell was that?”
I’m trying for casual, doing my best to pretend that was normal. Just a regular roll in the hay with a woman I don’t know that well.
But I do know Brooke. And she knows me.
That’s scary as fuck as her hand falls over my chest. “That,” she murmurs, licking her lips, “was the earth moving.”
I chuckle and pull her against me, combing my brain for more platitudes.
Thanks for the sex.
That was fun.
Glad we did that.
None of that rolls off my tongue. “I’m serious, Brooke. That was—that was?—”
“I know.” She giggles and flattens her palm. Does she feel the thunder of my heart? The panic that wells in my chest? “Guess we’re really sexually compatible.”
“Guess so.” Stroking her hair, I try to play it cool.
But I know in my heart I’ll be hard pressed to keep things casual now. I should feel bad about that. I should panic or get out of bed and start making us snacks. Anything to put some distance between us.
It’s the last thought I have as I drift off to sleep, with Brooke curled beside me, smiling.
I wake the next morning with a niggling sense something’s different.
Could be the dark spill of hair on my shoulder. Brushing it back, I remember last night in sharp, shiny bits. It takes a few breaths for the parts to slide slowly together.
We woke once at midnight, both desperate for more. After that, Brooke rolled over and texted her agent.
“I know this is poor sex etiquette,” she said as I kissed her shoulder. “But I’m rescheduling my call in the morning.”
“Good plan.”
“I still should get home.” She didn’t look like she meant it. “Max is alone and?—”
“Max is a big girl.” I moved down from her shoulder, kissing her collarbone instead. “Won’t she be okay for one night?”
“I suppose.” Brooke bit her lip and I saw my opening.
“Just stay. I promise I’ve got the best coffee on earth.”
Brooke touched my cheek, then smiled. “Deal.”
Now I’m awake, with daylight seeping through my blinds. Time to make good on my coffee pledge.
I get up and take Ribsy out, then quietly come back to shower. There’s a mark on my shoulder, the brand of Brooke’s nails in my flesh. I’m smiling as I shave, more relaxed than I’ve felt in weeks. Since the day Lucy called to say Mom wasn’t dead.
Like an asshole, I gasped in surprise. “Where?”
“Enterprise. Eastern Oregon?” She sobbed as she told me the details. “I always had a sense, didn’t you?”
“No.”
It wasn’t a lie, not exactly.
There were plenty of those already.
Shoving away all those thoughts, I move back to the bedroom to dress.
“Morning.” Brooke rolls over and smiles.
God, she’s gorgeous. “Morning, sexy.”
“Hey.” She’s sleepy and warm as I sit on the side of the bed. She sighs as her arms go around me. “Here’s where I admit I presumptuously packed an overnight bag, then chickened out and left it in my car.”
God, she’s adorable. “Want me to grab it?”
“You don’t need to?—”
“I owe Ribsy a run anyway.” I get up and pull on some pants. My dog dances behind me, wagging so hard she whacks the nail clippers off my dresser.
“Oooh, I’ll take those.” Brooke holds out her hand and I place them in her palm. “Sorry about the claw marks on your shoulder.”
“Not a problem.” I kinda like that I’m branded.
“I should keep them short anyway for typing.” She flips open the clippers, then blushes. “And, um…in case we do that again.”
“Count on it.” I love that we’re not pretending we won’t tumble back into bed together. “Are your keys in your purse?”
She pulls the sheet to her breasts. “They’re on the counter by the door. Thank you.” She lets the sheet slip just a little. “Want me to make the coffee?”
“I don’t have a coffeemaker.” I tug on a T-shirt and stuff both my feet into sneakers.
“You lied?” She sounds delightfully scandalized. “I’ve never had a guy fabricate coffee to get me in bed.”
“You were already in my bed.” I dip down to kiss her and want to crawl back in again. “And I didn’t technically lie. I said I’ve got the best coffee, and it’s true. I just don’t happen to make it.”
“But—”
“Give me thirty minutes.” Ribsy wags in the doorway, eager to get on with business. I run downstairs first and grab Brooke’s bag from the car.
As I hand it over, I bend down and clip Ribsy’s leash. “What’s your coffee of choice?”
“Vanilla latte.”
“Same.” What are the odds?
“Must be a sign.” She’s teasing, I know.
But there’s a sharp pinch right under my ribcage. “Help yourself to soap and shampoo if you forgot it.” I kiss her again, then roll off the bed. “See you in a few.”
With my trusty dog leading the way, I bound down the steps. It’s drizzly and gray, with a thick stew of clouds overhead. Even the ocean smells funky, with this morning’s inversion trapping a haze of seaweed and brine.
Here’s the thing about living above your workplace: It’s tricky to have any secrets.
“Morning, boss.” Erika grins as she unlocks the door of the shop. “Sleep well?”
“Very.” I hadn’t planned to see my head mechanic at this hour. “I thought Edgar opened this morning.”
“He asked to switch. Stayed out late running drunk women home.” She looks at Brooke’s car and grins. “Good for you.”
“Yeah.” No sense pretending I don’t know what she means. “Brooke’s great. Look, I?—”
“That reminds me.” She rubs Ribsy’s ears. “You can tell her I got the report.”
“Report?”
“From her sister’s accid—” she frowns. “You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”
Hell. That’s why Brooke stayed behind? “I know her sister died in a wreck just south of here.”
Relief fills her face, and she nods. “You made me nervous for a second. Thought I revealed something secret.” She pockets her keys and pushes the door partway open. “You can tell her I was right—it was my cousin who responded that night.”
Her cousin’s a cop, so that’s what she means. “Okay?”
“He’s sending his notes, and I’ll take a look. See if there’s anything worth sharing. From a mechanic’s perspective, you know?”
“Yeah, of course.” I wait to feel butt-hurt, but I’m not. Like I said, some women feel better talking with a female mechanic. “Thanks for looking out for her.”
“No problem.” She smiles. “I like her. She seems like a cool chick.”
“She is.” Way better than cool, whatever that is. “Thanks for covering today.”
“No sweat, boss.” She grins and shoves open the door. “Remember I’m your favorite employee when Neil gets leave next month.”
That’s her boyfriend in the Navy. “It’s on the calendar?”
“Yep.” Her grin turns salacious. “We’re holing up naked at my place for two whole weeks.”
“Living the dream.” I wouldn’t mind doing that with Brooke.
I’m still not sure what to make of the report Erika just mentioned. But it’s none of my business, so I walk Ribsy down to the beach for a quick game of fetch. The sky’s clearing off, and it might actually be nice today.
“Good girl,” I say as she drops her ball at my feet. “Should we go get a cookie?”
She wags her agreement and we set off walking toward Ugly Mug, home of the world’s greatest coffee. Looping her leash on a pole, I scratch Ribsy’s ears. “You want the pumpkin dog biscuit or peanut butter?”
Woof!
“All right, both.” I head for the door, fishing my wallet from a pocket. “Spoiled princess.”
Her tongue-lolling wag says she knows I adore her. As I push through the door, I’m wrapped in a hug of hot coffee and fresh-baked muffins.
There’s also a real hug, thanks to my sister.
“Hey, asshole.” Lucy launches herself at my chest, then pulls back. “You smell like cinnamon body butter from Fenty.”
“Fancy that.” I step into line for the coffee.
“That’s Brooke’s signature scent.” Lucy folds her arms and follows. “Did she stay over?”
“I’m not discussing my sex life with my sister.”
“She did !” Lucy steps forward in line, watching my face for reaction. “I couldn’t tell if last night was an act.”
“Yeah, Luce,” I mutter. “I’m rehearsing for the school play. You think I’ve got a shot at landing the part of Romeo?”
“I already knew she slept over anyway.” My sister grins. “Her car’s in front of your shop.”
“Remind me to punch Peter for turning you into a private detective.”
“Ha!” She’s still watching my face, like there’s gotta be more to the story. “Wasn’t hard to figure out. I mostly just wanted to see if you’d tell the truth.”
There’s a knife-blade of guilt through my ribs. “You think I’d lie to you?”
“Lighten up, dude.” She slugs me in the arm. “I’m teasing. Remember how teasing works?”
“Yeah.” I edge toward the counter and study the fresh-baked muffins. Would Brooke like blueberry or chocolate chip? “What brings you out alone, anyway?”
“Peter and Harper had a date with Sam to see the Sea Lion Caves.” Her eyes light up with the gossip. “Sam stayed over with Maxine last night.”
Thank God it’s not just my love life my sister’s obsessed with. “Good for them.”
“Maybe she and Brooke will stick around.” She’s watching me closely, but I don’t give a reaction. “Wouldn’t that be cool?”
I keep a straight face. “Has Max said that could happen?”
“No, I’m just fantasizing.” She grins as the line moves ahead. “About a world where Brooke Braham is my sister-in-law.”
“You need a hobby.”
“I have a hobby.” She blows a wisp of hair off her forehead. “It’s called planning a wedding.”
“You need a hobby that doesn’t involve meddling in other people’s lives.”
Luce pretends to consider that. “No thank you.”
We step forward again, ten feet from the front of the line. “Did you get your dishwasher fixed?”
“Ugh, no.” She makes a face. “The repair guy is four weeks out.”
“You need to let me look at it.”
“And you need to stop fixing everything for people you love.” Her eyes widen like she’s surprised herself. “No offense. It’s my favorite thing about you, but jeez—be selfish, Kaleb. Focus on you for a change.”
Ouch. “It’s just a damn dishwasher. Probably an easy fix.” Unlike the rest of my life. “The offer still stands.”
“Thanks, but I’ll manage.” A buzzing sound comes from her purse. She fishes out her phone and frowns. “Crap, I need to take this. It’s Harper’s dad.”
My protective instincts flare. “Your ex is an asshole.”
“Yes, but he’s also my co-parent.” Her phone buzzes again.
“Take it,” I tell her. “I’ll order for you and leave it at the counter.”
She squeezes me hard, then steps out of line. “You’re my favorite brother.”
“Obviously.” I know she’s teasing, but there goes the knife twist again. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
In just two minutes more, I hit the front of the line. I order six kinds of muffins for Brooke and me, plus matching vanilla lattes. For Lucy, I order an apple cinnamon muffin, plus one of the cookies she loves. I leave them at the counter with an extra-big tip.
It’s raining again as I trudge back home. By the time I’m inside, I’ve almost uncoiled the tension in my neck. Brooke steps from the hallway, rubbing her wet hair with a towel. “Perfect timing.” Winding the towel like a turban, she stretches to take her latte. “Let me get changed and I’ll get out of your—what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” How does she do that?
“You’re sure?” She searches my face. “You seem tense.”
“We should go for a hike.” I blurt it fast, feeling weirdly exposed. “You canceled your morning call, right?”
“Yes, but—” Brooke presses her lips together. “Actually, you know what? Walking’s good for writers’ block.”
“You still have writers’ block?”
“God, yes.” She takes a sip of the latte and sighs. “I don’t have hiking boots, though.”
I glance at her feet. “You about a size seven?”
She blinks. “Good guess.”
“You’re in luck.” I nod to the corner where two giant black bags sit next to my door. “Lucy dropped off more stuff for the clothing drive. Haven’t had time to take it downstairs yet.”
Brooke looks appalled. “I’m not taking shoes from underprivileged people.”
“Just borrow them then.” I point to the bag on the left. “There’s a brand-new pair of Merrell hikers she bought before Harper hit a growth spurt. They’ve only been worn twice.”
“Oh. Wow. Thanks.” She takes a step back toward the hallway. “Give me ten minutes to get dressed and dry my hair.”
By the time Brooke’s ready, it’s stopped raining again. She’s in black leggings with pockets and an oversized sweatshirt that says Harvard. “Should I bring my raincoat?” she asks as she pulls on Harper’s old boots.
“You can stick it in my pack.” I open my bag and stuff in my own jacket, along with snacks and some first-aid supplies. “You up for a couple miles roundtrip?”
“As long as it’s not too hilly. I’m not in my best shape right now.”
“You look fit to me.” I know what she means, though. “I don’t get as much cardio as I used to. Ribsy’s helping with that.”
Brooke grabs my dog’s purple leash. “You ready for a walk, good girl? Are you?”
Ribsy whacks the couch with her tail, sending a small puff of fur through a sunbeam. Something rolls out and Brooke stoops to grab it. “Another cool rock.”
There’s a sharp, sudden tightness in my throat. “Rhodonite.”
Brooke rolls it over in her palm. “Does it have a meaning?”
I could pretend I don’t know. But we’ve pledged to be honest, haven’t we? “It’s known as the rescue stone,” I tell her. “Tied to forgiveness, healing, that sort of thing.”
“Great color.” She twists it to catch the light, a pearly pink rock with black veins. “You’ve got a thing for pretty stones, huh?”
“Yep.”
Brooke hands it over and I shove the rock in my pocket. Grabbing a fistful of biscuits, I watch Ribsy wag her approval. “Let’s go.”
We set out down the stairs and into this cloudy gray morning. A trickle of sunlight seeps through a lacy white cloud that’s the shape of a bra cup.
I might have bras on the brain.
“Are you wearing something new from Mischievous Mermaid?”
Brooke laughs as she falls into step beside me. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.” She pauses and frowns. “Not that I’m presuming we’ll sleep together again.”
“Do you want to?” I know where I stand.
“I had fun.” Her word choice sounds careful and stilted. “I gather you did as well?”
“‘Fun’ is what I’d call sand sledding. Not sex that made my eyes roll back in my head and knocked me unconscious for the longest stretch of sleep I’ve had in years.”
Brooke laughs as we turn toward the lake. To the left of the dock sits Cherry Blossom Lake Shake Shack, which isn’t open right now. Bumper boats bob in their pen, colorful ducks waiting for warmer weather. It’s too cold today to play in the water. Off in the distance, two little girls crouch on the shore. They’re giggling together, gathering rocks in their sweatshirts.
The younger one’s maybe four or five, with pigtails fixed in green ribbons. Her sister wears one of those fishtail braids I spent weeks learning when Harper was little.
“How precious,” Brooke whispers, watching the older girl offer an agate to the younger one. “Sisters.”
That’s my guess, too. “Did you and Grace do much rockhounding as kids?”
“No.” She looks down at the trail as we move past a boulder. “For us, it was shells.”
“What about your brothers?” She doesn’t talk much about them.
“David—he’s older by eight years, so we weren’t super close growing up. He’s a workaholic lawyer now.” She kicks at a stone on the trail, sending it into the water. “Our younger brother, Brady, was more of a jock.”
“Not so much with the shell hunting?”
“Not really.” She shrugs and keeps walking. “I feel guilty, being around your family.”
“How come?”
“I don’t know.” She’s quiet a moment. “I sometimes wish I was closer with my own. Things changed when Grace died.”
I know how that goes. “Maybe that’s how it is when tragedy strikes. Families either pull together or drift apart.”
“Yes.” She looks startled I’ve said it. “That’s it exactly.”
We’re almost to the sisters now, so we drop the subject. Approaching the girls, I spot a little red wagon between them. A wagon that’s missing its handle. I notice it perched on a rock by the water, a rusty black teeter-totter dripping with sand.
“Morning.” Brooke waves to their mom with a we’re-not-kidnappers smile. Their mother looks up and her eyes trail to Ribsy. She stares for a bit, maybe waiting to see if anyone foams at the mouth.
Deciding we don’t look like killers, the mom returns to scrolling her phone. The girl with the pigtails points at Ribsy. “Does your dog bite?”
“Nope.” I tug at the leash and prompt her to sit. “She’s friendly. Want to pet her?”
“Yeah.” Pigtails stands up, followed by the girl with fishtail braids. Each of them scratches an ear. “What’s her name?”
“Ribsy.” I contemplate asking their names but their mom might find that creepy. My dog licks their faces and they laugh.
“Those must be your pets?” Brooke points to a wagon that’s stuffed to the gills with plush toys. “Which one’s your favorite?”
Fishtail Braid plucks a plush panda from the wagon. “This is Gumdrop. Jasmine pissed in his ear.”
I glance at their mom, who doesn’t look up from her phone. “Uh?—”
“So what?” Pigtails snatches a purple elephant. “You’re just mad I didn’t pissed in your ear.”
Brooke shoots me a look of confusion. The girls begin bickering before we can ask.
“Nuh-uh.” Pigtails grips the elephant tighter.
“Nuh-huh.”
“Nuh—”
“Girls,” calls their mother without glancing up from her phone. “Settle down.”
With a scowl for her sister, Fishtail Braid grabs a plump, plush giraffe from the wagon. “Fine. I’ll pissed in Longneck’s ear.”
Brooke looks at me with alarm. “Okay, well?—”
“See?” Fishtail Braid brings the plush giraffe to her mouth. “Pspspspspsss,” she fake whispers, glaring at her sister. “There!” She flings the toy back in the wagon. “Now he knows secrets and you don’t.”
I hold back a laugh as her sister sniffles. There’s a crying jag brewing. Good thing I’ve got experience distracting Harper at that age. “Hey,” I call out. “What happened to your wagon?”
Both girls frown at the busted handle. “She broke it,” says Pigtails.
Fishtail Braid huffs. “Did not!”
“Did so!”
“Did n?—”
“What if we fixed it?” I slip off my backpack as Brooke watches.
“Wow.” She sits down on a boulder beside me. “You travel with tools for fixing a wagon?”
“Doesn’t everyone?” I unzip the pack to find the miniature toolkit I always carry. “Would you mind holding Ribsy?”
“Sure.” Brooke takes the leash, and my dog takes a seat like the good girl she is.
The sisters await more instruction. I open my toolkit and look to the girls. “Would one of you please grab me the handle?”
“Me!” Pigtails gets up and snatches it. “Here you g—hey!”
“ I’ve got it.” Fishtail Braid tries to tug it from her hand. “I’m bigger and I’m in charge.”
“Are not!”
“Are so.”
“Are n?—”
“Thank you, girls.” Brooke takes the busted handle and gives it to me.
“Thanks.” I roll it over in my hand, studying the spot where it’s meant to attach. “Looks like you’ve lost a screw.”
“Whassat?” Pigtails peers into my toolkit as I point at the ones I brought with me. “Ooooh.”
“Did you see anything like this on the ground?” I poke one that’s two inches long, since that’s roughly the size we’ll need. “If you find that screw, I can fix your wagon.”
“Okay.” They set to work searching, not fighting for now. Only some whispering, sisterly secrets passed from one to the other.
Beside me, Brooke bites her lip. “I wonder what they’re talking about.”
“Debating a strategy for shoving us in the water so they can steal our wallets?”
Brooke laughs. “Sounds about right.”
After a few beats, Fishtail Braid stands and points at her sister. “She put the screw in the water.”
Pigtails huffs her indignation. “Did not!”
“Did so!”
“Did not!”
“Did s?—”
“Girls.” Their mother doesn’t look up. “Do we need to go home?”
Pigtails sniffles and looks at me. “If I did put it in the water, it’s only because the duckies needed a screw.”
Can’t argue with that logic.
Brooke snickers as a family of ducks paddles past. If the screw’s in the water, they’re not retrieving it.
“Let me see if I can make this one work.” I fish out one of my own screws as Brooke inspects the wagon.
“I had one like this when I was little.” There’s a note in her voice that makes me look up.
“Yeah?”
She bends to brush the glossy red paint with a hand. “It was orange instead of red. Our father painted it Grace’s favorite color. It was technically hers, but we shared it.”
Pigtails props a hand on her hip. “ You have a wagon?”
Fishtail Braid looks skeptical. “But you’re old .”
Brooke laughs. “I don’t still have it, but my parents might.” She looks out over the lake. “Or they did. I suppose they’ll get rid of it when they move.”
The girls look concerned. “But why?” Pigtails furrows her brow. “Were you bad?”
“No, I wasn’t bad.” Brooke’s choosing her words with care. “I didn’t need it anymore, I suppose. Besides, it had a wheel that fell off all the time. Something didn’t work right and—well. I don’t blame my parents for not hanging on to it.”
The sisters exchange a look I can’t read. Then Pigtails looks at me. “You should give her a screw.”
“You think so?” I focus on reattaching the handle so they can’t see my mouth twitching. “I’ll take that under advisement.”
“My mom needs a screw, too.” Fishtail Braid kicks some sand by the wheel. “I heard her say so.”
“Yeah.” Pigtails bobs her head. “She told Aunt Charlotte that she hasn’t had a good screw in forever because Daddy’s been busy with?—”
“I think we’re done here.” I give one last twist of my screwdriver, then check my handiwork. The handle flops in the sand, securely attached once more. “There you go. Good as new.”
“Whoa!” Pigtails snatches the handle and yanks. The wagon starts rolling, toppling three or four animals into the sand. “Thanks, mister.”
Fishtail Braid grabs the dropped plush creatures and takes off after her sister. “Yeah, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I repack my stuff in the toolkit. “Be good to your sister.”
Brooke stiffens beside me and I wonder why I just said that. The girls seem to wonder the same.
“How come?” Pigtails asks. A legitimate question.
“Because.” And now I’m on the spot. “Because you’ll always be sisters, no matter how old you get.” I glance at Brooke and see her forcing a watery smile.
“That’s true,” she says softly. “Love between sisters is a powerful thing.”
Fishtail Braid gives Pigtails a dubious look. “I wanted a brother.”
“They’re more trouble than they’re worth.” I zip up my pack and sling it over my shoulders. “Trust me, I’ve got a buttload of ’em.”
“What’s a buttload?” Fishtail Braid doesn’t wait for an answer. “You’re a buttload.”
“No, you are.”
“You are!”
“You!”
Their mother looks up from her phone, blinking between Brooke and me. “Are you leaving?”
“We’re on a hike.” I take Brooke’s hand as the mom’s face falls, mourning the loss of free sitters. “Have a nice day.”
She gives a vague wave and a sigh, then returns to her phone as the girls run laps on the lake shore.
With Brooke’s hand in mine, we set off down the trail. She’s holding the leash with her opposite hand, Ribsy trotting between us. It’s not until Brooke’s fingers twitch that I realize I’m still holding her hand.
“Sorry,” I say, releasing my grip.
Brooke raises her brows. “What for?”
“I didn’t ask if I could hold your hand.”
“Did I look like I minded?”
“Seems like one of those gestures that’s supposed to mean something.”
“Unlike putting your penis inside me?” She sounds more bemused than annoyed. “You can hold my hand if you want to.”
“All right.” Lacing my fingers through hers, I lead us up a short incline. “I wanted to show you something.”
Brooke quirks an eyebrow. “We’re not still talking about your penis?”
“Funny.” I love this side of her. The silly, smart-mouthed Brooke Braham. “I try to keep my pants on around poison oak.”
“Poison o— oh .” She looks where I’m pointing. “That’s what it looks like?”
“Yep.” I guide us around the thick cluster of plants with shiny, three-pronged leaves. “It’s rampant up here.”
“I’m glad you said something. It’s so pretty I might’ve touched it.”
“Not recommended.” I steer her around a gnarled western cedar. “I cleared out most of it last week, but it always grows back.”
She shoots me a curious look. “Such a Good Samaritan, clearing hazards off public trails.”
“Not public, exactly.” I nod at a rusted no trespassing sign. “We stepped onto private property about ten yards back.”
She glances around. “Won’t the owner get mad?”
“Let me check.” I pat my chest like I’m checking for ticks. “Nope.”
Brooke blinks. “Wait—this is yours?”
“Yeah.” I unclip the leash, letting Ribsy have free run of the place. She trots off to pee on the same patch of grass she’s marked every time we’re here. Mission accomplished, she curls up to doze by her favorite shrub.
“This is beautiful.” Brooke turns in a circle, surveying thickets of thimbleberry and wax myrtle. She watches the soft slosh of water on the lakeshore below. “It’s all yours?”
“A little more than an acre from there to right there.” I point out the bounds of my parcel, an odd mix of pride swelling up in chest. “This was all part of my grandpa’s old Christmas tree farm.”
“All of this?”
“The original farm was two-hundred acres, but Uncle Owen took most of it and—long story.” Not what I want to focus on now. “The eight acres here got split between Jake and Lucy and Mason and Noah and Parker and me.” Man, there’s a lot of us. “I wanted this spot on the bluff.”
“I can see why.” She squints through the trees to the shore down below. “Is that a house being built?”
“Jake and Cassidy’s,” I tell her. “The rest of us are taking our time deciding what to build.”
Her eyes fill with questions. “How’d you choose your plot?”
“I like that it’s got peek-a-boo views of the ocean and the lake, but it’s also that.” I point to the sharp arc of cliffs in the distance. “That stretch of 101 past Obliot Cape is one of my favorites. Scenic and wild and—” I trail off there, deciding to leave it at that. To leave the rest of it unsaid.
The road to Gold Beach.
The place where I could have put this whole thing to rest.
When I look back at Brooke, her face has gone pale. “Obliot Cape?”
“It’s just south of here right before Kneefs—” Lighthouse . The other shoe drops. “Your sister.”
Brooke’s blinking fast, gripping my hand as she peers through the clouds toward the coast. Toward the thin band of asphalt hugging the rocks near the shore. “I didn’t realize it was this close.”
“Yeah.” Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned it. “There’s something so wild about that stretch of coast. I drive it a lot in the tow truck.” I need to stop talking, since Brooke’s gripping my hand like the tide’s dragging her out. “The ruggedness always appealed to me, even as a kid.”
Her throat rolls as she swallows. “I’ve never seen it before.”
Should I suggest heading back? It might’ve been a mistake bringing her here. But a glance at her face tells me to stay put. “You okay?”
She nods, but just barely. Brooke’s rooted in place, her palm cold and clammy. She stares at the road like she’s not really seeing it. What’s going on in her mind?
Brooke takes a shuddery breath. “Do you know how she died?”
“Yeah.” I googled right after we met, but details online were sparse. “Car accident, right?”
“Sort of.” Her shoulders shake as she draws a breath. “That’s what her obit says.”
There’s clearly more to the story. “What happened?”
Blinking hard, Brooke bites her lip. “I’m the reason she died.”
That can’t be right. “What makes you say that?”
“It was my fault, Kaleb.” Her voice goes hoarse as a tear rolls down one cheek. “She’d still be alive if it wasn’t for me.” Wiping her eyes, she tilts up her chin and meets my eyes. She looks broken and lost, and I ache to take her into my arms.
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
She looks down at her hands. “I’ve never told anyone all of it.” With another deep breath, she meets my eyes. “I’ll tell you if you want to know.”
Do I? Will hearing Brooke’s secret shift something between us?
Part of me says it’s wrong. It’s not like I’ve spilled my own secrets, so this isn’t fair. To let Brooke open up, leaping over the line between casual friendship and more.
Taking a breath, I nod. “Yes,” I say softly. “I’d like to know.”