2. Chapter One
Chapter One
Jake
The flames in the firepit danced and leapt, warding off the chill of the early November evening. At least, that was the intention. Jake still felt the cold as it crept into his bones, his right leg aching like it always did when the weather turned.
The last three weeks had been unseasonably warm, which Jake had appreciated, but just yesterday, the temperature had decided to drop, and his little stretch of quiet beach just south of the tiny town of Rocky Cove, California had been covered in a dense layer of misty fog that hadn’t cared to lift, even in the middle of the day.
It wasn’t really raining, and he was glad for it. That would have made it even more difficult for him. But the chill the fog brought with it and the sudden dip in temperature—barely reaching the upper forties during the warmest part of the day—definitely aggravated his damn aches and pains enough.
He stared out over the firepit toward the beach at the bottom of the short, rocky cliff beyond his patio. He could barely make out the waves lapping at the shoreline, and he closed his eyes and just listened.
The gentle waves, rhythmic and soothing. The fire’s quiet crackling. And nothing else.
God, he loved it here.
He loved the quiet and the simplicity, and he loved how life here felt unhurried and relaxed, even when his leg was acting up. He’d take the cold weather if it meant he had this peacefulness, bad leg or not. And he knew he’d been damn lucky to have found this place and even luckier that he’d been able to afford it. The settlement after his accident had made that possible, of course.
He lifted his mug to his lips and took a cautious sip of his tea, and then he let out a long, slow breath as he glanced at his watch. It was just after eight. His sister, Krista, would be calling to check on him any minute, just as she always did. Every. Single. Night.
Five years he’d lived here now, and she still called him every night to check on him. He loved her for it, and he understood why she called. But he’d be lying if he said it didn’t sometimes make him feel like he was still a child.
His cell phone buzzed from his pocket. Right on time. Predictable.
Jake sighed and pulled his phone out, then swiped up to answer.
“Hey, Kris.”
“Hey, lunkhead.”
“Lunkhead?” Jake grinned and shook his head. “What did I do now?”
“Oh, nothing. Phil was just reading me your article in Nat Geo .”
With a huff of laughter, Jake scooted to the edge of his lounge chair. He grimaced as the muscles in his right leg complained, but he pushed himself to stand up anyway, his eyes drifting back out to the coastline. “Ahh, well. You know what I’m going to say, right?”
“Of course I do. And you know what I’m going to say right back.”
Jake picked up his mug and took another sip of his tea. “I told you I’d happily write about your resolution if —”
“—when!”
“— if it passes. And it has to pass and get the necessary funding, which, as we both know, isn’t a guarantee at all. And then I’ll write about it. Hell, I’ll even sing about it from the rooftops—how my big sister is doing all the good work passing legislation to help keep our oceans clean and free of microplastics.”
He heard his sister laugh quietly. “Please don’t go climbing up on any rooftops,” she admonished, her voice still teasing.
Jake just rolled his eyes. “But it’s my favorite pastime. Climbing up on my roof. Out here in my isolation. All alone. No one for at least a mile to hear me when I fall.”
“Ah, stuff it, Jake. Don’t even put that image in my head. God, you’re the worst. I love you, though.”
“I love you too, Kris.”
Jake limped slightly over to the edge of the patio and leaned on the railing, staring out into the blackness. “It was a good article, wasn’t it?”
“Very,” she said. “Clear and detailed, and if anything, it should help my cause. The vote’s next week, by the way. We finally got it on the docket, right before the holidays. I’m hopeful. It’ll do so much good if it passes.”
“It really will,” Jake agreed.
There was some rustling on the other end of the line, and he heard the muffled voice of his ten-year-old nephew, Phil, shouting something. Krista just sighed .
“You’re doing okay today?” she asked, her voice much softer now, as it always was when she asked him that question.
“Yeah, Kris, I’m good. And don’t worry, I’m not planning on climbing any roofs.”
His sister was silent for a long moment, and Jake pulled the phone away, thinking maybe he’d lost his connection. But then he heard a quiet sniffle, and he put the phone back up to his ear.
“Kris?”
“I’m sorry, Jake. You know I just worry.”
“I know.”
“And I don’t like you living out there all by yourself.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I know.”
“Maybe... you can visit for Thanksgiving this year? Dad’s coming. Mom’s not, but, you know, that’s probably better.”
Jake closed his eyes at the unpleasant churning in his stomach. “Um, yeah. I-I’d love to see Dad.”
There was a short pause, and then his sister coughed quietly. “So you’ll come?” Krista asked, her voice sounding much, much too hopeful and yet sad at the same time.
And that made his heart ache a little.
He looked back out over the water, the thick fog obscuring his view, and he cleared his throat. “I’ll, uh, have to check my very busy schedule before I can confirm. I might already have a party or something planned. It’s possible.”
His sister sniffled again, a little louder this time. “God, Jake...”
“I’ll be there, Kris,” he said gently. “It’s been too long now.”
“Almost six months.”
“Yeah. That’s too long. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I know you like your solitude.” There was another sniffle, but then a little tease returned to her voice. “And I don’t blame you. It gets loud around here, and the city is busy. Too many people.”
“I miss you, though.”
“I miss you too. I . . . should go.”
“Okay. Goodnight, Kris. Thanks for calling.”
“Goodnight, Jake. Take care. And dear god, please don’t go climbing onto the roof.”
Jake laughed again. “You have nothing to worry about, big sister.”
“I always worry.”
“I know.” He straightened up and took another sip of his tea, shifting most of his weight off his right leg .
“Talk to you tomorrow.”
“Always,” Jake said with a smile. He held the phone up to his ear for just a second longer and then pulled it away and hit the button to end the call.
A weak breeze blew in off the water, and he shivered. Damn, it was cold. With one more glance down toward the beach, Jake turned and hobbled back over to put out the fire in the firepit, then headed inside for the night, glad for the warmth of his cozy home.