Chapter 6
Shawn loved the smell of fresh cut grass. It was partly why he took no issue with mowing lawns for the elderly folks in the neighborhood when they asked—and for Amos, a good family friend, he was always willing to help out.
His phone vibrated, so he cut the lawn mower, wiped the sweat from his brow, and answered.
“Hello?”
“Shawn Porter Gray, I’d almost forgotten what your voice sounded like,” Hanna’s stern tone—the one she undoubtedly used with her kindergartners when they were up to no good—came through the line.
Shawn held his breath, then sighed. He should’ve known that when Tucker was unsuccessful, Hanna would step in.
“Hey, Han,” Shawn said.
“Hey? That’s it?”
He grimaced, bringing a hand to the back of his neck. “Uh, well, I?—”
“Why are you avoiding us?” She cut him off.
“I’m not avoiding you.” Liar. “It’s just been a busy summer, that’s all.”
“Hmm,” Hanna said, sounding an awful lot like Grams. “So busy you can’t come over for dinner tonight?”
“I have a sunset cruise booked.” At least he didn’t have to come up with a lie to get out of it. “Rain check?”
He heard Hanna release a disappointed sigh. “We miss you,” she said quietly.
“I miss you guys, too.” The truth, even if he was the reason for the distance between them. “Some other time soon?”
Silence passed over the line.
“Is everything okay, Shawn?” His eyes burned, but he didn’t respond. “You know you can talk to us about anything, right?”
Not this.It was on the tip of his tongue.
“I know, Han.”
“We love you,” she added.
“I love y’all, too.” Even if I’m not acting like it.
“Shawn—” As Hanna began to say more, Amos walked out of the front door of his house and eyed the lawn.
“Shawn, thank you!” he boomed.
“Anytime, Amos,” Shawn forced a smile as he heard another sigh from Hanna over the line.
“You’re busy,” she said flatly.
He searched for words as Amos approached him, but none came.
“I’ll let you run, Shawny. Call me when you’re ready to talk. Love you.” Hanna cut the line.
Shawn pocketed his phone, frustration with himself coursing through his body.
“You need a ride home?” Amos asked, not seeing Shawn’s truck anywhere.
“No worries,” Shawn said. “I jogged here. I’ll jog home, too.”
It was only a mile home, and he needed to pound out the confusing mess of emotions he was facing—and figure out how to get over himself and talk to his best friends.
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
Willa grinnedto herself as she walked down the beach toward Ida’s house. When Ida dropped by yesterday with the pie in hand, she’d been in a rush to get back to her kitchen and keep cooking, so Willa promised she’d drop by this morning for a visit.
Of course, when Shawn showed up with another pie barely an hour later, she’d seen right through him. He must’ve asked Ida for a pie to bring her in apology, and it was refreshing for a man to try so hard to get into her good graces.
Unlike Leo, who wouldn’t be caught dead saying the words “I’m sorry.”
She sighed, realizing the bar was on the fucking floor.
Shame surfaced as she thought back to how she overlooked some of Leo’s more obvious red flags.
And when she met Blake after dropping by the hotel, she couldn’t help but notice similarities between the Beachside Inn’s General Manager and Leo. For one, he talked to her boobs, not her. Not to mention, he kept hinting at her giving him “private lessons” since he mostly lifts—as if that was supposed to impress her. Willa was thankful for the gig, but was not looking forward to the regular one-on-one meetings he insisted on having to stay updated on the progress of the new yoga program.
At least she had Layla.
Shaking herself out of her stupor, she raised a hand to knock on the door when it swung open.
“Right on time,” Ida said, clad in joggers, a Smash the Patriarchy t-shirt, and sneakers. “Let’s go on a walk.”
Willa chuckled in spite of herself. Ida was a spitfire, that was for certain. She took no shit from anybody, and she got right down to business. Willa hadn’t known the older woman wanted to be accompanied on a walk, but she was grateful for the excuse to get a bit of movement in.
“Good morning to you, too, Ida,” Willa said with a smile.
“Oh, honey, now listen,” Ida said, positioning a visor on her head, white hair spilling out onto her fair-skinned, wrinkled face. “I’d love it if you called me Grams.”
“Grams?”
“I’d never try to replace your grandmother, God rest her sweet soul, but anyone in cahoots with my grandson gets to call me Grams. If you’re comfortable with it, that is.”
“Cahoots? Ida, listen, I?—”
Ida cleared her throat and gave her a pointed look.
“Grams,” Willa corrected herself, trying to bite back a bemused grin. “I wouldn’t say I’m in ‘cahoots’ with your grandson.”
She used air quotes around the word “cahoots.”
“But I’d love to call you Grams.”
“Well that’s settled then,” Ida said, brisk and business-like, but with a smile on her face.
They started walking toward the Bayou, the marshy stream that fed into the Bay—the place where Willa went when she was looking for the occasional appearance of an alligator or heron.
“I usually try to walk to the Bayou and back every morning. It’s just over a mile and helps me get my steps in.”
“Well if you go around this time every morning, I’d love to join you,” Willa said.
“I’d love that, sweetie,” Ida responded. “Now, tell me. How are you settling in?”
Willa relished the way it felt to have Ida look after her. She was raised mostly by her grandparents and her nannies while her parents were off jet-setting, and since both her grandparents died, she hadn’t felt this looked after in a while. It was a bittersweet feeling, knowing Ida cared about her. It made her ache with a warmth she hadn’t felt in years.
“It’s fine,” she said. “The house is exactly like I remember it. I got a job teaching yoga classes at The Beachside Inn. I start tonight. So that should be good.”
“Good for you,” Ida said. “But tell me, how are you really doing?”
Willa wanted to cry. She couldn’t remember the last time someone asked her that and genuinely wanted to know the answer.
“I’m alright,” she said, her voice breaking a bit.
“Oh, honey,” Ida came to a stop and drew her into a tight hug. Shawn’s grandmother was a few inches shorter, but Willa still felt engulfed. Her eyes burned with tears that slowly began falling, and she buried her head in Ida’s shoulder for a moment before pulling back.
“I’m sorry,” Willa said.
“Nothing to be sorry for, dear,” Ida said. “We can turn around if you want. I can make a pot of tea.”
“No, I’m okay. Let’s keep walking.”
They continued in a comfortable silence for a few moments. Willa felt a strange connection to Ida—this woman she vaguely remembered from childhood, who was friends with her grandmother, and who would probably bring her another homemade treat this week. Before she knew it, Willa was spilling everything.
Her sordid dating history.
How she found out about Leo.
How she felt like she needed a break from men for a while.
How she’d never felt more alone.
How sometimes, she thought the anxiety of it all would swallow her whole.
By the time she finished talking, her tears were dry and they were almost back to Ida’s house. Ida ushered her inside, and true to her word, she made a pot of tea. Even though it was hot and humid, it still felt comforting for Willa to take a sip of the tea and warm up her insides.
“Listen, hon,” Ida said. “I wish I could bottle up this pain you’re feeling and take it from you. All I can say is, most men in this life are trash, but some of ‘em are worth holding onto. But you know what matters more than any of that?”
Ida took a sip of her tea.
“You. You matter, sweetie. And I’m proud of you for kicking ol’ Leo to the curb and making him shake in his boots while you were at it. Now you’ve gotta learn how to trust yourself again, and that can be tricky business. But I’m here for you, alright? You come over and see me anytime.”
Willa smiled at Ida, warmth flowing through her.
“Thanks, Grams.”
“And listen, sweetie, I want you to meet my friends,” Ida clapped her hands together. “Oh, they’ll love you! Would you join me for Bingo this Friday night?”
Right as Willa nodded in agreement, the door flung open and a shirtless, sweat-covered Shawn walked in.
“Hi,” she squeaked.
Well, that was new.
She’d never squeaked in front of a man before.
Usually her confidence threw them off, but she hadn’t realized just how hot Shawn was—or maybe, she hadn’t wanted to realize it. But standing before her, there was no ignoring the strong curve of his arms, the way his six-pack glistened under his sweat, how that little V pointed down, down, down…
She was looking at his crotch. She couldn’t tear her eyes away, though, because below that were his legs, and fuck. She’d never considered herself much of an appreciator of men’s legs, but with Shawn, she could make an exception. They looked like they were sculpted, as rigid and muscled as Michelangelo’s David.
Heat pooled in her core, and she cursed herself for suddenly feeling horny.
Horny and boyfriendless for the first time in years.
Not to mention, she’d sworn off men and had yet to unpack her favorite vibrator.
“Are you okay?” Shawn’s breathless voice interrupted her rapt perusal of his body.
He’d taken out an Airpod and was looking at her with so much concern that she wanted to start crying again.
Had Leo ever looked at her like that?
Had anyone?
And suddenly, she realized how she must look—red-faced and blotchy and puffy, like she’d just cried. Which she had. She stood so abruptly she almost knocked over her tea.
“I’m fine,” Willa said. “Thanks, Grams. For everything.”
“Anytime, hon. See you tomorrow.”
Willa walked past Shawn and their shoulders brushed, enough to send a zap of need coursing through her.
First order of business when she got back to the house: find her vibrators.