Chapter 11
ELEVEN
“T
he Seahorse has a dog-friendly patio. That work?” Rafe asked as they walked down to Harborview Street. It was already hot out, the air holding an unusual mugginess that clung to the skin.
“Sure, sounds good.” Based on what Willow had seen during their walks, Rufus seemed to be good with other dogs. It was people—more specifically men—that were still scary for him. She would try the patio and see how it went. If he was too stressed or reactive, she could always leave.
Rufus plodded along at her left side, panting lightly from the heat while shooting Rafe the occasional wary glance.
The town center was busy. A steady flow of traffic headed to and from the ferry terminal, and all the shops, cafés, and restaurants were full of people. As usual, there was a lineup outside The Skelly.
They passed it and continued for half a block before turning up the hill and walking another block. The Seahorse Café, a pale aqua Victorian building that had been converted into a restaurant a century ago, occupied the corner lot.
Willow followed Rafe around back to the patio.
It was a beautiful, private space tucked into what had once been the backyard.
Now an arch smothered in blooming honeysuckle marked the entrance.
Inside, the large brick patio was enclosed by a brick wall on three sides, with large colorful umbrellas shading the tables.
Rufus scooted under her chair and laid down the moment she sat, and didn’t move.
She ordered a peach iced tea and a mixed salad with chicken, fresh local nectarines, and roasted pistachios.
Over lunch, she and Rafe caught up and talked about old times.
Until Rafe turned the topic to something she would rather not talk about.
“You hear from Tripp since we saw him?” he asked.
“No, but I’d imagine he’s busy with work.” She tried to sound casual. Tried to pretend she hadn’t obsessively thought about him over the past week. “You?”
“Just texted a few times.” He eyed her. “Everything okay between you two?”
She took a sip of her iced tea because her throat was suddenly dry. “Fine. Why?”
“You both seemed a little awkward together. Was that the first time you’d seen him since he was wounded?”
She lowered her gaze, focused on spearing up a piece of nectarine with her next bite of salad as her stomach knotted. Tripp had been wounded on the same mission her brother had been killed in. He hadn’t come to Peyton’s funeral because he’d still been recovering in the hospital.
But then there’d been the night of the other funeral, two years before that. And the almost kiss on the beach that could easily have turned into much more if she hadn’t been such a coward.
“Yes,” she said. The scarring hadn’t been as bad as she had expected, though his beard covered a lot of it, and he’d been wearing a long-sleeved shirt.
“I get why it’s hard for you to see him.”
She felt badly. Had Tripp said something to him? “I didn’t realize he’d moved here until Mae told me. How’s he doing? Really.” Rafe would tell her straight.
He shrugged. “You know Tripp. He keeps to himself mostly, but he’s pulled inward pretty hard since finishing treatment.”
The way he said it made suspicion niggle at the base of her brain. “Treatment?”
Rafe’s amber gaze lifted to hers. “Yeah.”
“Medical treatment.”
“No.”
Wait. “You mean at the recovery center here?” People came from all over to attend the treatment facility located in a valley near the center of the island.
Rafe didn’t answer. And that told her everything she needed to know.
“Oh, shit.” She set her fork down, rubbed her forehead. “I...I didn’t know.”
“I see that. Ah, hell, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No, it’s...I’m glad I know.” Not only had Tripp gone through painful surgeries and rehab for his physical recovery, he’d also obviously slid into addiction at some point.
She felt like she should have known. Should have made an effort to at least check in on him. But losing her brother was so painful, she hadn’t been able to bear the reminder by seeing or speaking to Tripp.
It seemed like such a selfish, cowardly excuse now. “Was it the meds they had him on, or a mental health thing?”
“Not sure. He never talks about it, and I’ve never asked.”
“I’m guessing his dad was a big part of getting him in there.” The facility was world renowned and incredibly expensive. Way more than a single military contractor could afford, even with disability and insurance coverage.
“Yeah. And his dad’s also why he stayed after.”
They were close. Always had been, but especially since Tripp’s mother had died of breast cancer while he’d still been in the Army. “So, he’s better now?”
“Way better. But like I said, he never talks about it. Anyway, I shouldn’t have brought it up. Let’s change the subject. Tell me how it’s been with Rufus so far.” He leaned over to glance under her chair, where Rufus was still curled up in the shade.
The tension in her middle eased slightly at the shift in conversation, but even as she told Rafe all about Rufus, part of her mind was stuck on Tripp.
She hated knowing he’d been in such a dark place.
Felt like a coward for avoiding contact with him this whole time, and not reaching out beyond the get-well card she’d sent.
A freaking get-well card. How pathetic was that?
Rafe laughed at a few of the stories she told him about Rufus as they finished lunch. She checked her watch. “Oh, the ferry’s due in soon. I gotta go.” She turned to flag the server down.
“Don’t worry about it, I got this one.”
“You sure? You already got the last one. I don’t want to run up a tab with the sheriff.”
He rolled his eyes. “Go.”
“Okay. Meet you at the station in a bit.”
She headed down the hill to the ferry terminal, Rufus walking nicely at her side. They stuck to the shady side of the street where the leafy green Pacific dogwood trees cast cool shadows across the sidewalk, protecting Rufus’s paw pads from getting too hot.
“Good boy, buddy. You’re doing great.”
The ferry was right on time. She watched it sail into the harbor and dock. Waited as the passengers began disembarking through the terminal, a welcome rush of excitement at the thought of seeing her friend again helping to sweep away guilt over how she’d basically ghosted Tripp.
She spotted her friend’s trademark hairstyle through the crowd—long, thick, bleached blond twists with natural dark roots—and threw her arm up to get her attention. “Bronwyn!”
Bronwyn saw her, let out an excited squeal and rushed straight over in her dark skinny jeans and pink crop top that hugged her figure, rolling her little suitcase behind her. “Hey!” She ditched the suitcase and grabbed Willow in a bear hug, engulfing her in a familiar cloud of tropical scent.
Willow laughed and returned the embrace. “Hi. Oh, it’s so good to see you.”
“You too. It’s been way too long.”
Almost two years. She eased back to smile at her. “You look fantastic.” She still had the small silver hoop piercing in the right side of her nose, and a jewel in her belly button.
“So do you.”
“I dig the tat.” A beautifully shaded, artistic skull with a rose in plain black on her left upper arm.
“Thanks, it was a grad present to myself. And who’s this?” She looked down at Rufus.
“My new roommate. We’re still getting to know each other, so he’s a little skittish, but he’s settling in better now. Rufus, wanna say hi?”
Bronwyn crouched down and smiled at him. Rufus gave a little tail wag and didn’t retreat, stretching his nose toward her.
“That means you can pet him if you move slowly. Maybe start under his chin, or on his chest.”
“On your chest, eh?” Bronwyn crooned to him in her adorable Canadian accent, running her hand over the white blaze on Rufus’s chest. “Oh, you’re so soft. Hi, Rufus.”
Rufus lowered his ears and surprised Willow by darting his tongue out to lick Bronwyn’s cheek. “Hey,” she protested as Bronwyn laughed. “No kissing other girls right in front of me. Cheater.”
“He’s a sweetheart.”
“He’s a flirt, apparently.” Considering what he’d been through, she was proud of him.
“He’s a rescue?”
“Yep. Mae took me to visit him at the shelter last weekend.”
Bronwyn rose, her gorgeous blue-green eyes twinkling. “I can just imagine how that went. You’re a lucky boy, Rufus.”
Willow studied her thoughtfully.
“What?”
“Nothing. I guess I’m just a bit disappointed. No accent at all, after spending more than a year in the UK?”
Bronwyn smirked. “I picked up some local lingo over there. Things like ‘hiya,’ and ‘howay the lads.’ That satisfy you?”
“It’ll have to, I guess.” She hooked her arm through Bronwyn’s and started toward the street, holding Rufus’s leashes to her left. “Hey, did you get the pictures I sent you?”
“Literally just as we docked. Tell me all about it.”
“Rufus found it on the beach this morning. Hope you don’t mind, but I’m taking you straight to the sheriff’s office to have a look at it.”
“No, not at all.” Bronwyn shaded her eyes against the glare as they started up the hill, looking toward the cliff above the marina, and gasped. “Is that a humpback mandible arch?”
Willow chuckled. “You’re such a bone nerd. But yes, I believe so.”
“Can you blame me? They’ve got one at Whitby, and another at Seahouses over in the northeast of England where I was, but I’ve never seen one over here before.”
“This place used to be an old whaling station.”
Bronwyn nodded. “I read that. I’ve always wanted to visit the island, but especially now that I’ve finished my degree. I mean, Skeleton Island? How freaking cool is that?”
Willow grinned. “Glad you’re excited. Welcome to Whalebone Cove.”
“Thanks. Now take me to the bone.”