Chapter Three
Bram
I shouldn’t have canceled on Ada. It’s been one of our standing traditions for so long, I can’t even remember the last Saturday evening when I wasn’t at the Jones’s table surrounded by their chatter and laughter. If we didn’t have dinner there, then we all gathered at Mom and Dad’s. Even during college, I’d made it a point to be home on the weekends if at all possible. There were only a handful of times I hadn’t been able to make it. And yes, a lot of that had to do with seeing Lois, but even after she’d gone to Europe, I’d kept going.
Jovie will be disappointed. Heck, I’m disappointed. I look forward to our family gatherings every week.
But I can’t make myself go and sit through the PDA between Lois and Chad. My chest burns at the thought. Besides, I look like I have a hangover with what little sleep I’ve gotten the last two nights.
Nothing in my life feels right anymore. It’s as if I’m standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon and all it will take is one little gust of wind to send me careening over the edge to my demise.
Pacing the living room of my beach cottage, I pray for God to remove all thoughts of Lois from my brain. But she’s completely embedded into every fiber of my being. I glance around, looking for any sort of comfort among the light gray walls. Instead, I’m taunted by the pictures of Lois and me on my bookshelf.
Picking one up, my heart pinches. Lois is laughing, and I’m staring at her like a lovesick pup. My throat tightens as I remove all of the pictures of Lois and toss them into the trash. The only one I keep is the picture of all of us together. Cyrus, Titus, Lois, Quinn, and I are all standing in my parents’ back yard with our arms slung around each other. Better days.
Once I’m done attempting to rid my home of any sign of Lois, I collapse on my sofa. I pick up the military fiction book I’m reading by J.D. Black, but the words keep blurring on the page. I place it back on the end table and toss one of my throw pillows across the room in frustration. Sighing, I stand and begin pacing again, crushed by the shift my world has taken. More like completely thrown off my axis. I run a frustrated hand through my hair. Usually being home calms me, but not today.
I need to go somewhere else. Anywhere else.
Grabbing my truck keys, I head out the door. After driving around aimlessly, I park near the pier at the other end of town. I grab my board from the truck bed, the sound of the rushing waves pounding against the sandy shores drawing me closer, begging me to try and tame them. There aren’t a lot of people out at the moment. Something I’m grateful for.
Ironic that I ended up here when the beach is literally my back yard. The waves never get as high as they do at this location, though. And tonight I need to challenge myself. Push myself to the point of exhaustion. Maybe then I’ll be able to sleep without thoughts of Lois invading my dreams.
I slip off my shoes and step into the rushing water, my eyes closing as the incoming tide wraps around my feet and ankles, enticing me to go deeper.
My feet begin to move forward just as I hear a small voice calling out, “Bram!” Jerking around, I spot Jovie running to me with unmasked joy written all over her face. Fresh guilt nips at my heart. She’ll wonder why I’m here instead of enjoying dinner at her house.
Lifting my gaze, I notice Quinn following slowly behind her. Is it my imagination or does she look more tired than usual? Not that I’m an expert on Quinn’s looks, but when you’ve known someone for over a decade, you have a pretty good idea of their facial expressions. Now that I’m aware something is going on, I can tell she’s lost weight, too. I work to keep the frown off my face.
Laying my board down, I stride toward Jovie and sweep her off her feet before she has a chance to get her tennis shoes full of sand or wet in the water. “What are you two doing here?” I kiss her cheek, hoping my affection will ease the guilt twisting inside of me.
Quinn blocks the sun from her eyes with her hand as she glances up at me. “I guess we’re doing the same thing you are,” she replies, a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth.
I arch an eyebrow at her in question.
“Avoiding.” She pauses, her eyes darting to Jovie before landing on mine again. “L.O.I.S. and C.H.A.D,” she says quietly.
“I’m not avoiding anything.” My voice comes out defensive as a knot of panic forms in the pit of my stomach. Quinn doesn’t know about my feelings for Lois. Does she?
Quinn raises a questioning brow as she holds out a container to me. “Jovie made these all by herself and she wanted you to have them.”
“How did you know where I was?”
Quinn chuckles, tucking a strand of black hair behind her ear. “It’s a small town, Bram. We went to your place and were getting ready to knock on the door, but Mrs. Graham informed us you had left. She told us which direction you’d gone.” Shrugging a much-too-bony shoulder, she continues, “This is the best spot on this side of town, so it wasn’t hard.”
I shake my head. “Nosey neighbors,” I grumble under my breath, earning another chuckle from Quinn. We both know I don’t mean it. If you don’t want people in your business, then you shouldn’t be living in Peach Beach. At least, that’s what my neighbor, Mrs. Graham, told me when I asked her how the packages on my doorstep had made their way into my house.
Apparently, it had been raining that day. And apparently, Mrs. Graham knew exactly where my spare key was. Yeah, the old woman saved my packages from being ruined in the rain, but no one wants someone snooping through their house uninvited.
I thought that would be the end of it. Especially after I’d removed my spare key from its hiding spot—which, in hindsight, a hide-a-key-rock is probably not the best place to actually hide a key. But the next week, I came home from work and found my house smelling deliciously like peach pie.
Except.
I hadn’t baked any pies. Or bought any pies. Or even owned a pie-smelling candle. Yet there on my kitchen counter sat a fresh-baked peach pie. Of course, I did the natural thing and cut a big slice of it and started stuffing my face. I mean, the thing was still steaming. And it was oh, so good.
I called Mom to thank her for the pie. Only, she had no idea what I was talking about.
Seems like Mrs. Graham had made copies of my keys when she’d moved my packages.
“It’s good to have the extra set in case there’s ever an emergency,” Mrs. Graham told me with a pat on my arm when I confronted her about it.
How do you tell your eighty-year-old widowed neighbor with no family around to stop baking you delicious pies and leaving them on your kitchen counter when you’re at work?
You don’t.
Now, about once a week, Mrs. Graham bakes me a fresh pie and leaves it in my kitchen while I’m working. And I have started seeing to any repairs she needs around her house. It’s a win-win situation if you ask me. Even if it started out a little on the creepy side.
Quinn pushes the container toward me again, breaking me out of my thoughts. “Oh come on, you know you love us and Mrs. Graham.”
I grin and place Jovie on the dry sand before reaching for the goodies. “Thank you, Jovie.” I pop open the container to an assortment of oddly shaped chocolate chip cookies. Not only are they varying in size from as small as a bottle cap to one that is almost as big as my face, but they’re also varying degrees of baked. One of the smaller round ones is completely burned, looking more like a lump of coal, while the biggest one looks like it might still be doughy in the middle.
Glancing up at Quinn with a hesitant look, I wonder which I should take my chances on. Quinn’s blue eyes twinkle as she shifts a little closer to me and whispers, “Better make a good show of it. She told me you’d like them better than my brownies.”
My lips lift, and I grab one that looks less burnt but also mostly baked. Biting into it, I groan and moan like it’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. Jovie claps her hands and giggles, and I’m pretty sure I hear Quinn snort, but she quickly covers it up with a cough.
“Jovie, these are the best chocolate chip cookies I have ever eaten,” I tell her as I lick the chocolate off one finger and smack my lips dramatically.
She pops a fist on one hip and juts her chin out to Quinn. “See, Q? I told you he’d like my baking better.”
Quinn holds her hands up and smiles. “Okay. Okay. I was wrong.”
Jovie, appearing satisfied, asks if she can wade in the water. Quinn agrees and helps Jovie take off her shoes. Jovie runs into the ocean until she’s knee-deep, leaving Quinn and me alone.
I watch Jovie in silence as Quinn slips off her sandals and digs her toes into the sand. Crossing her arms, she looks up at me. “So what’s the real reason you didn’t come over tonight?”
This is going to keep coming up, and I need to get ahead of it. I don’t want to lie, but I can’t tell her the entire truth. What good would it do at this point except to cause unnecessary drama and awkwardness? At least right now, I am the only one uncomfortable. If Lois ever finds out about my feelings, it will make her uncomfortable, too.
So, I decide to go with a half-truth. “It was a shock. Lois being married, I mean.” I drag in a deep breath and exhale slowly. “She and I have always been good friends. Close. I don’t want Chad getting the wrong idea. You know?” I angle my head to look down at her, hoping she believes it. I mean, honestly, most of that is true. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea. But I especially don’t want him to see my true feelings about his wife. That thought makes me sick.
I can’t—won’t—have feelings for another man’s wife. It’s just . . . going to take some time for me to rid myself of them.
Quinn studies me for a long moment, giving me time to study her. Remnants of dark circles are under her eyes, and not only does she appear thinner, but her skin looks sallow. Quinn is the quietest of her family, but she’s always had a healthy glow to her that seems to energize anyone in her presence.
“Are you okay?” I blurt out.
Her eyes widen in surprise before clouding over. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she mumbles, “I’m going to kill Lois.”
“She’s worried about you, Q.”
“Well, I wish everyone would stop worrying about me. I’m an adult. I can take care of myself,” she snaps, her eyes flashing with a fire I’ve rarely seen from her. Immediately, her face softens and she closes her eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “I’m sorry, Bram. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“It’s okay.” I place a gentle hand on her arm to make sure she hears my next words. “You know if you need anything, all you have to do is ask. You’re surrounded by family and friends who love you. We’ll be here for you.”
She smiles sweetly. “I know. Thank you.”
After ten more minutes of small talk, Quinn collects Jovie and we say our goodbyes. I follow them to Quinn’s car, and after watching them drive away, I slip into my truck. No longer in the mood for surfing, I head to my achingly empty home.