Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Grady
Late morning light filters through the cabin windows, catching dust motes that dance between me and the glossy brochures spread across Kyle’s coffee table.
The identical floor plans of Pinecrest apartments all promise luxury living with waterfront views. I flip through a tempting listing for a condo instead of an apartment.
It’s right on Market Street, within walking distance of the docks, and while my stomach clenches at the rent prices, my bank account can handle it. Six years of commissions from Aurora Storm’s bestsellers have left me financially comfortable, if emotionally adrift.
It would allow me to come by for a visit with Chloe, and it’s an easy drive to my specialist doctors.
“You’d better be decent, Grady,” Chloe calls through the open window, startling me, “because I’m coming in!”
Before I can hide the damning evidence, the door swings open.
Chloe strides inside, her pink hair catching sunlight like cotton candy at a county fair. She balances a canvas bag on one hip, filled with overflow treats from Holden’s morning baking. Being limited to the small kitchen in Cabin One hasn’t slowed him down at all.
“Morning! Or is it late enough to say afternoon, instead?” I straighten too quickly, wincing as my bad leg protests. “I thought you were going to be writing all day.”
“The muse is in hiding.” As she closes the door, the scent of lilies and lilacs fills the cabin. “Dominic’s on the mainland today, and Holden is hosting a brunch at the trailhead.”
Her curious attention fixes on the brochures. “What’s all this?”
“Nothing.” I sweep them under a magazine. “Just some junk mail.”
“Don’t you lie to me, Grady Garfield Finch.” She drops her bag and plucks one out of the stack before I can stop her. “You’re house-hunting.”
I grab for it, but she turns away, studying the glossy photos of granite countertops and stainless-steel appliances.
“These are in Pinecrest.” She flips to the map on the back page. “Waterfront district. Very pricey.”
I fidget with the edge of another pamphlet, the stiff paper crinkling under the pressure. “I was just exploring some options.”
“Options for what?” She settles into the armchair across from me, crossing her legs to signal she has no intention of leaving without an explanation.
I shift my weight to my good leg, the wooden floor cool under my socked feet. “For giving Kyle his space back.”
Chloe’s brow furrows. “Has Kyle said something?”
“No, he’s been more than gracious.” Kyle and I have become good friends over the months of cohabitating, and I enjoy his company, but… “This cabin isn’t meant for two grown men. Especially when one of them moves at half-speed and takes twice as long in the bathroom every morning.”
I sink onto the old couch, the cushion depressing beneath me. “And he’s worried about what’s happening with Jared. I’m sure Kyle won’t kick me out, but after that video and the rumors, Jared can’t stay with Emily forever. Kyle’s his cousin. He should have a place here.”
“The place occupied by you.” Chloe sets the brochure on the coffee table, smoothing its creased corner. “So you’re thinking of moving to Pinecrest.”
“I’m thinking of not being deadweight.” The admission burns my throat. “I’ve been here for months, Chloe. Sleeping on Kyle’s couch, eating his food, taking up space.”
“You’re recovering from a serious injury,” she protests. “And you’ve been helping with groceries.”
“Not as much as I should, and I’m recovered enough.” I gesture to my leg. “I can manage stairs now. I can drive. I can live independently again.”
Chloe studies me with quiet sympathy. “Is the real issue here your need for independence?”
The question cuts too close to the truth, and I force a half-smile. “It’s about practicality. Jared needs somewhere safe to stay, and he’s Kyle’s cousin.”
Her lips purse. “Have you brought this up with Kyle? Or with Jared? You tend to overthink things all on your own.”
“Kyle’s too polite to make me feel unwelcome.”
Chloe doesn’t even pretend to believe my excuses. We’ve been friends too long to pull one over on each other. “And what do you need, Grady?”
“I need…” The words stick in my throat.
What do I need? Purpose? Connection? To stop existing on the outskirts of Chloe’s world and finally step into the center of mine?
I release a long breath. “I need to decide where my life is headed.”
I unfold the floor plan of the condo. The layout features a small office nook by the window, perfect for a writing desk. My fingers trace the tiny rectangle, imagining a space filled with books instead of Aurora Storm’s promotional materials.
A place where my creativity might come back to life.
“So these are serious.” Chloe fishes out another brochure, examining the listed amenities. “You’re really thinking of leaving the island.”
“Not leaving. Just… relocating,” I correct, though the distinction is flimsy. “Pinecrest is twenty minutes away by water taxi.”
“It’s not the same as being within walking distance.” Her bottom lip trembles. “We’ve lived next door to each other for so long. I don’t want you to go.”
“You already let your old apartment go.” I clasp my hands in my lap to stop from fidgeting. “We haven’t been next door to each other for months.”
She puffs up her cheeks. “You know what I mean.”
“I’d still be nearby this way. We could have coffee every day if we want.
You can catch the morning water taxi to Pinecrest, or I can catch a ride with the construction crew.
” I rake a hand through my hair. “This is the logical choice, Chloe. Kyle gets his space back. Jared gets somewhere safe to stay. I get…”
“What?” Chloe leans closer. “What do you get, Grady?”
“A fresh start,” I say. “Somewhere that’s mine.”
Motions reluctant, she sets the brochure down. “Pinecrest is nice. But it’s not Misty Pines.”
“No,” I agree, my attention caught by the forest outside the window. “It’s not.”
She moves to sit on the couch beside me and takes my hand. “Why didn’t you tell me you were thinking about this?”
I squeeze her fingers. “I wanted to decide for myself first.”
She takes a shaky breath. “If moving is what you need for yourself, then you have my support. But if you’re doing this out of some misguided sense of obligation, please promise you’ll speak to Kyle and Jared first. I’m not so sure, even if the space is available, that Jared will want to move out of Emily’s house unless she forces him to leave. ”
I arch a brow. “Oh?”
“I heard Nathaniel and Blake talking about how there may be love in the air. They’re such gossips.” She snuggles closer. “Are you sure you won’t be afraid to live alone?”
I huff out a breath. “I’ve been living alone for years.”
“No,” she corrects. “You’ve been living next door to me. I, for one, felt a lot more comfortable knowing you were within shouting distance.”
She’s not wrong. The silence never felt permanent with her next door.
“There was a certain comfort in having you so close.” My lips quirk. “Not that you’d come running to my rescue, you big scaredy-cat.”
“Hey!” She slaps my arm. “I would have called the police!”
“Well, I’m not afraid.” The denial sounds weak even to my ears. “And this is practical.”
“Mmm.” She leans over to grab the bag she brought and pulls out a container of muffins. “Practical would be staying here, where you have support during your recovery. Where you don’t have to climb three flights of stairs because the elevator is perpetually broken in buildings like these.”
“My leg is fine.”
“Your leg will never be fine again, as much as we both wish it were different.” She pops open the lid and offers me the first pick. “But that’s not what this is about.”
Heat creeps up my neck as I take a chocolate chip muffin. “What’s it about, then, since you’re so sure of what’s going on in my head?”
“Fear of the blank page.” She gestures around the cabin with a cranberry orange. “I realize how all the changes in my life have pushed yours in a new direction, too. And the work you’re doing for Aurora Storm isn’t nearly as satisfying. I’m sorry.”
I bump my shoulder against hers. “Never be sorry for being happy.”
“But I do worry that my happiness has caused you unhappiness.” She picks at the wrapper on her muffin. “Who is Grady Finch when he’s not Aurora Storm’s agent?”
The observation hits too close to home, a direct strike to vulnerabilities I’ve buried beneath schedules and other people’s priorities. I set the muffin back into the container untouched and push myself up from the couch.
My leg protests at the sudden movement as I limp toward the window. “I don’t know. I’ve spent six years building up Aurora Storm’s career.”
“You had a different career planned before me,” Chloe reminds me softly. “Three manuscripts, if I recall correctly.”
My fingers curl on the windowsill. Those manuscripts sit in a storage box at my old apartment, rejection letters still paper-clipped to their title pages. Testaments of failure I can’t bring myself to reread or throw away.
“Ancient history.” I tap my knuckles on the glass, watching my distorted reflection. “And not the point.”
“What is the point, then?”
I turn back to her, leaning against the window frame for support. “The point is independence, and finding out if I’m anything beyond a footnote in your biography.”
Chloe’s face softens. “You’ve never been a footnote to me.”
“Not to you.” I gesture around the cabin, to the half-empty mug of tea I abandoned earlier, to the stack of query letters from unknown authors waiting on the side table.
“But to everyone else? A footnote is all they see. And not even a current one. I love you, Chloe, but I need to stop trailing after you.”
She rises and walks over to the desk, flipping through the queries. “You’ve organized press tours without breaking a sweat, soothed the meltdowns of New York publishers when I missed deadlines, and navigated contract negotiations that would bring corporate lawyers to tears.”