Chapter 10Stella
Chapter Ten
Stella
The Sea & Sun Festival had transformed Calypso Key’s grassy meadow into a lively scene full of colors and vibrant laughter. Located between the resort and the Markham residences, the area teemed with locals and tourists alike mingling under a sky so blue it hardly looked real. Flame trees scattered throughout the meadow were in full, bright-orange bloom and added their own color to the event. The early-June air buzzed with the hum of conversation and the sizzle of barbecue grills, most notably mine.
“Stella, you’re supposed to be cooking, not daydreaming!” Grace’s voice, tinged with amusement, snapped me back to reality.
“Yeah, I know.” I grinned, turning several brats to ensure even cooking. “Just soaking in the festivities.”
“Save the soaking for later, honey. We’ve got a line longer than the beach volleyball net out there.” With her blonde hair tucked under a Calypso Key Resort baseball hat, Grace nodded toward the distant sandy BBQ area where a lively game was in full swing. Laughter erupted as a particularly robust spike sent the ball flying into the ocean. Three kids dove into the warm water to retrieve it.
“Speaking of which, ten bucks says the Johnson brothers take the cornhole trophy again.” I nudged her as I passed over a loaded plate. A dozen wooden cornhole boxes were placed nearby, and the tournament was slowly whittling away the competitors.
“I’m not taking that bet. Those two win every year.” Grace winked at a customer as she handed them their order. I laughed, watching as a small child attempted to drag his father toward a booth with a face painter. Next to me, chef Felicia shot Grace a grin of agreement as she stirred a huge stock pot of simmering beans, her own family recipe.
Grace watched me rapidly flip half a dozen burgers. “You might want to save some energy for paddleboarding with me later.”
“Only if you promise not to accidentally tip me over this time.”
“Cross my heart.” She gave me an angelic look while crossing her fingers behind her back.
“I see how it is. Traitor.”
The Conch Republic’s beer garden was bustling nearby, a reggae band harmonizing with the laughter. Luke was serving up cold ones with a flourish that drew an appreciative crowd.
“Looks like business is booming all around.” I wiped my sweating brow and took a moment to watch the festival unfold. My heart filled with both pride and belonging.
This was home.
“Sure is.” Grace’s eyes followed the arc of a Frisbee before it was caught by Orchid prep cook Matt, his dark hair flying. He tossed it to Rea with a laugh as my friend continued, “He’s kind of hot. Those blue eyes! Which happens to remind me that the festival is also prime time for people-watching—especially the eligible bachelors of our quaint little town. Like the one in the next booth, maybe?”
A sigh escaped me, almost inaudible against the backdrop of festive noise. But I couldn’t stop myself from glancing at Aiden’s medical tent, positioned next to our barbecue booth. The proximity was no accident, I was sure. Maia had been in charge of the layout. And though convenience no doubt played a part, I was sure my meddling little sister wanted us close together.
“Stella, go say hi.” Grace nudged me, her voice dripping with both encouragement and mischief.
My gaze lingered as I observed Aiden. He looked effortlessly charming in his polo shirt, his clinic logo a stark contrast against the fabric clinging just right to his athletic shoulders. Gray slacks and boat shoes completed the ensemble that screamed casual, yet competent and professional. He was currently handing out free sunscreen packets to a gaggle of women, and I frowned.
“Or you could stand here and burn those patties while fantasizing about Dr. Dreamy,” she teased, following my line of sight.
“Shush.” I redirected my attention to the grill, flipping the burgers and rearranging shrimp skewers.
“Come on, you’ve been stealing glances at him all day.” Grace’s tone softened. “Why not just talk to him?”
“Because—” I started, then stopped. What was I afraid of? Rekindling something I wasn’t sure I wanted? Trusting someone who had hurt me so deeply? “Because it’s complicated.” I could feel the weight of our history in those three words.
“Complicated is just another word for I’m not done with him yet .”
“Am too,” I countered weakly as I slid a burger onto her waiting bun. But my protest died on my lips as I watched the women at Aiden’s tent, their laughter carrying over to us. My stomach squirmed as he helped them, oblivious to his attractiveness.
“Sure.” Grace arched an eyebrow. “And they’re only after his sunscreen packets.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t ignore the twinge of something—annoyance, irritation?—as the women lingered and chatted with Aiden, who was all politeness and smiles. It was apparent to anyone but him that they were less interested in UV protection and more in the man providing it. Of course that slithering in my gut couldn’t be jealousy. That would only make sense if I was interested in him myself. Right?
“Let’s focus on the burgers, okay?” I said, a touch sharper than I intended.
“All right, all right.” Grace relented, but not without giving me a look that said we weren’t finished with this conversation.
The grill sizzled after I collected another batch of burger patties from Felicia. A loud cheer erupted from the cornhole competition, and the two Johnson brothers high-fived each other.
“Stella, you’re hard at work in your domain, I see,” Evan’s voice called out above the din, his tone warm and rich with amusement as he appeared next to me.
I glanced up to find my brother’s handsome face split by an easy grin that reached all the way to his eyes—a stark contrast to his tense demeanor at our family lunch. As the general manager of the resort, he was in his element here, overseeing the festivities with a practiced eye.
“Only the best for Sea and Sun.” I matched his smile as I plated another perfectly seared brat.
“Looks like business is booming,” Evan said, taking in the scene around our booth. “You, Felicia, and Grace are killing it.”
“Thanks to your impeccable planning,” I replied, and we shared a look. Evan thrived on this—the logistics, the community, the controlled chaos of events like these. “And maybe even Maia’s too.”
As we chatted about the turnout, my gaze drifted once again to Aiden’s medical tent, its proximity a constant pull on my attention. Nona, back to her usual wardrobe of Wrangler jeans and a denim vest, appeared, and the hand holding my spatula paused. Her trademark snowy hair was braided down her back as she ambled up to Aiden with her usual confident step.
Oh, no!
“Stella, earth to Stella,” Evan teased, following my line of sight. “Worried about what Nona might say to Dr. Mitchell?”
“How could I not be? She’s got no filter!”
“Hey.” Evan gently placed a hand on my shoulder. “Despite her love of meddling, Nona wouldn’t do anything to upset you on purpose.”
“Right, like she did with you?” I barked a laugh. Nona had inadvertently begun Evan and Liv’s relationship. Though she could be nosy, she wasn’t malicious about it.
“You could always go over there and shoo her off.”
Nona said something that made Aiden throw his head back and laugh, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. He was so effortlessly charming, and it irked me that I still found it endearing.
“Look at them. It’s like they’re old friends,” I murmured the words, more to myself than to Evan.
“They kind of are, you know?” Evan squeezed my shoulder sympathetically before making his rounds again, leaving me with my thoughts and the ever-present view of Aiden’s tent. For distraction, I inspected the juicy heirloom tomatoes and tried not to worry about Nona.
“Stella?” Grace’s voice drew me back, her concern evident. “You okay? You’re frowning at those tomatoes like they’ve personally offended you.”
“Yeah, just lost in thought.” Shaking off my funk, I turned back to the grill with renewed focus. “Let’s keep this food moving.”
I threw myself into the work, flipping patties and sliding the finished product onto Grace’s waiting plates, letting the rhythm of the task anchor me in the present. The festival was meant to be a celebration, and I was determined not to let old memories spoil it.
The next thing I knew, Nona had ambled up to my booth, her braid shimmering like spun silver. “Stella, dear, whip me a shrimp kebab, would you?” She perched on an unused stool with the ease of someone who had navigated this festival for more years than I’d been alive.
“Coming right up.” I flashed her a smile and set to work, grilling the shrimp to pink perfection. “Good turnout for the festival, huh?”
“That’s for sure. Lots of people to talk to. Speaking of which…” No na tilted her head toward Aiden’s tent, where he was now tending to an overheated tourist. “Seems like you have a handsome neighbor today.”
Her elbow nudged mine lightly, and a playful spark lit her eyes. I couldn’t stop the laugh that tumbled out, even as my gaze betrayed me, stealing another glance at Aiden. He was easing his patient onto a cot, the very image of the dedicated doctor… and undeniably attractive.
“Old flames are old for a reason, Nona,” I countered, but my heart wasn’t in the jest.
“Perhaps they just need a little stoking to burn bright again.” She winked before taking a hearty bite of shrimp.
“Enjoy your meal, firestarter.” I did my best to ignore the heat rising to my cheeks.
“I always do when you’re cooking.” She held up a skewer in a toast, making me grin.
“Shame Hunter couldn’t join us today.”
“Yes, it is.” Despite Nona’s disappointment at his absence, her eyes softened at the mention of my brother. “Him and his mysterious job assignments. But he made it to lunch, and that’s something.”
I nodded, handing her the kebabs, one of grilled shrimp and another loaded with fresh veggies. Hunter had called me a few days ago to report he’d received a new case and would be unavailable for the entire week. Whatever that meant. “Yeah, it was nice having him around, even if just for a bit.”
“Hopefully the start of things to come.” She took several more bites before rising and sauntering off into the crowd, presumably to butt into someone else’s life.
I let out a sigh, watching Nona disappear into the sea of festival-goers. When our mother passed away giving birth to Maia, Nona had stepped into those impossible shoes. She raised us with a firm hand and a fierce love that bound us all together, no matter how far we roamed.
The fair buzzed with upbeat, tropical energy, the kind that seeped into your bones and demanded you laugh and join in the cacophony. I leaned against the wall of our booth, taking in the spectacle—the vibrant streamers fluttering above like captured rainbows, and the unmistakable thud of bean bags hitting wooden boards.
I turned to watch as the cornhole tournament reached its climax, teams huddled in fierce concentration, their supporters’ rallying cries rising up from the sidelines. It was impossible not to get swept up in the enthusiasm, the community spirit—it was what made small-town life so sweet.
“All right, folks!” Evan’s voice boomed over the speakers. “We’re down to the final throw!” The crowd held its breath, and for a moment, all of the festival seemed to pivot on this single point of suspense.
“Ooh, so close!” I murmured as the bag missed its mark by a hair’s breadth, the collective sigh of the audience echoing my sentiment. Smiling, I turned back to my next task. My fingers were slick with juice as I sliced through a crimson tomato, and the tangy scent filled my nostrils. My movements were self-assured and confident, having performed this task thousands of times.
Until my sharp knife slipped in a jagged, very wrong motion, which was immediately followed by a deep sting across the outside of my left palm.
“Damn!” I hissed, dropping the knife with a clatter. My hand reflexively clenched, but that only brought a fresh wave of pain and a bright ribbon of blood that dripped onto the wooden cutting board. I turned away and grabbed a stack of paper towels, holding pressure on the wound to ensure I didn’t bleed on anything else.
“Stella!” Grace gasped, rushing over with wide eyes. “Your hand!”
I tried to laugh it off. “I can’t believe that happened! I haven’t cut myself in years.” I lifted the impromptu bandage for a peek, but blood welled immediately.
“Let me see.” Her tone dismissed any argument I felt like raising.
Reluctantly, I uncurled my fingers and lifted the wad of paper towels to show her the cut, wincing at both the pain and the concern etched on her face.
“Stella, that looks bad. You need to?—”
“I’ll be fine,” I interrupted, stubborn pride flaring up. But I knew she was right. The steady flow of blood was a clear sign that I wouldn’t be able to handle this with just a Band-Aid.
“The bleeding isn’t stopping.” Grace’s voice was laced with a seriousness that contrasted sharply with the merriment around the booth.
“Maybe I should just wrap it with gauze,” I said, trying for nonchalance as I fumbled with fresh paper towels one-handed.
“Wrap it? With what, hopes and dreams?” But Grace’s jest couldn’t mask her worry. “I think you need stitches, hon. Felicia can handle things here.”
I glanced over at the chef, who nodded firmly from behind the barbecue. “Go, Stella. I’ve got this.”
Hesitating only a moment longer, I gave in to the inevitable. The pain was starting to make itself fully known, a sharp reminder of reality biting through the adrenaline. I pressed the now thoroughly red paper towels harder against my wound “Okay. I’ll go see Aiden.”
“Good. Hurry!” Grace gave my back a supportive pat before ushering me away from our booth.
My legs carried me toward the medical tent with more resolve than I felt. Each step beat a rhythm with my pulse, throbbing in time with the flow of blood. As I neared the tent, I caught sight of Aiden, smiling as he spoke to an ample, rather red-faced woman. He waved as she and a younger version of her walked away. He was the picture of professionalism, in his element as much I had been in mine. Until I’d made a rookie mistake.
“Excuse me!” I called out as I reached the entrance, doing my best to keep my voice steady. My other hand was still clamped down on the cloth, the red stain spreading ominously.