Chapter 1
Chapter One
PRESENT DAY
“ A rie! Table four needs a refill!” Miranda bellowed into the diner’s kitchen.
I’d been waitressing at Oaks Diner since I was fifteen. My first of many jobs, but it was the one that continued to stick. Mostly because the owners, Ann and Forest, thought of me as their granddaughter. They’d been there through the most difficult time in my life. Without them, I didn’t know how I would have gotten by.
After the accident, they’d organized a fundraiser to help pay for medical bills and equipment needed to make our house wheelchair accessible. The outpouring of kindness and donations from local shops and businesses floored me. It was the only time the community had shown me any kindness.
But their generosity only lasted so long. The funds ran out nearly as quickly as they’d been received.
I’d never forget Ann and Forest’s generosity, so I continued to slave at the diner barely making minimum wage.
It wasn’t a horrible place to work. Not like some of the other shops, restaurants, and businesses in this small coastal town. If there was one thing the locals of Fallen Oaks knew, it was how to take care of their own. It was the places owned by the rich summer residents you had to watch out for.
Grabbing two hot plates from the cook, I set them on the round server tray and whirled toward the double-action doors leading into the dining area. “Thanks, Mir,” I said with a tired smile as we passed each other.
Miranda Moore was one of four waitresses at the diner, me included. A single mom to the cutest four-year-old little boy who often came to work with her, coloring in the corner booth, Mir had been here only two years. If I ever had kids, I wanted them to be as well-behaved as Ethan.
Using my hip to push the door open, I entered the dining area, trading the heat of the kitchen for lively chatter. I delivered a burger with fries and a meatloaf sandwich to table six before grabbing the empty cups to refill at table four.
I rubbed the back of my hand over my damp forehead as I dumped out the old ice and scooped in fresh, sneaking a cube for myself to rub over my flushed neck. The diner had no air-conditioning, and we were having an unusually hot June day. Despite being located on the harbor, close to the ocean, the breeze through the screens could only do so much to combat the heat.
I’d been on my feet since five this morning, and my soles were protesting. Wiggling my toes in my frayed white sneakers, I filled the drinks. My shoes were one lace away from unraveling at the seams, as was most of what I owned.
Next week, I’ll look for a pair on sale.
It didn’t matter that I’d been making the same promise to myself for weeks. Somehow reciting it again and again gave me false hope.
“Yo, sweetheart,” someone called out, and I groaned before turning around, plastering on a smile.
My shift was almost over, and the last thing I needed was some asshole slapping my ass. I might have to accidentally drop a drink in his lap.
The last hour dragged, but I finally cashed out for the day, collecting my tips, not bothering to count them. It wouldn’t be enough. It was never enough. But on the bright side, I hadn’t had to assault anyone today at work. I’d call that a win. Not that I made a habit of attacking the guests, but the diner was known to get a few rowdy assholes from time to time who needed to be reminded this wasn’t an establishment that came with a free show. The waitresses weren’t entertainment.
I stuffed the wad of cash into my front pockets, preferring to keep it on me until I got home. You never knew when someone more desperate than me would come by and try to swipe my bag on my way home.
“See you Friday,” I said to Mir who sat with her son in his usual reserved booth while she refilled the condiments. I set down a glass of chocolate milk in front of Ethan with a wink. Miranda’s son gave me a toothy grin before I unlaced my apron.
“Be careful,” she warned. “It drives me crazy you won’t take your car to work,” she added, raising her voice so I could hear her while I walked across the diner. Mir liked to mother me despite her only being ten years older. I didn’t mind, seeing as I grew up without one. It was nice to have someone worry about me even if unfounded.
I waved goodbye and stepped outside, the screen door slamming shut behind me.
Rubbing the back of my sweaty neck, I ventured into the scorching late afternoon sun, lifting my face to the sky. My skin, hair, and clothes reeked of grease, but after five years, it was like my signature scent. I still longed for a shower and the piece of Ann’s key lime pie I’d swiped from the kitchen even though it would be mush by the time I got home from the heat rising to unbearable temps.
The longer I walked in the sun, the more appealing a dip in the ocean became. Hell, what I wouldn’t give for a pool right now. We were one of the few houses on the Strand that didn’t have one. A fact I couldn’t fully wrap my head around. Not the not having a pool part but why everyone's house had one when the ocean lay only steps from our backyards.
The harbor bustled with activity and people, more so now that we were at the beginning of tourist season, which was really good for the shops and the town’s wallet but tiresome for me. All the extra people made me feel claustrophobic while I walked briskly down the harbor.
I had a twenty-minute walk, a hike I’d made a million times before. I didn’t mind the distance. It was the heat that made me regret leaving the car at home today. Well, there was also the little problem of the car being completely out of gas. This morning, I hadn’t had a dime to my name, and now my pockets were full of cash. Mostly ones, but it didn’t diminish how good it felt to have money, even a measly amount of cash that would be gone as quickly as I made it.
By the time I trekked over the rocky crest, my shirt was soaked and sticking to my back. Is it too much to hope for the sky to open with a downpour to offer relief from this unseasonal blistering heat?
I had a long, restless night ahead of me unless the ocean decided to bring relief. The breeze would help some. I’d either be sleeping with the windows and doors open tonight or I’d be sleeping under the stars.
Some nights it was better to crash on the beach than inside the house.
Growing up, I loved this place. I never cared how weathered the cedar shake on the exterior appeared, or that the white and blue trim was flecked and pealing. The toilet always ran. The washing machine only worked if you kicked it. There were more things wrong with this place than there were right.
And it showed.
The house looked sad as if the windows wept and the doors frowned. It had lost all its happiness.
I tried not to think how that might be a reflection of me. Had I lost all hope?
Dragging my feet up the few porch steps, I kicked my shoes off and stared at the front door. Did I want to go inside? Not really.
Not yet.
Once I stepped over the threshold, I couldn’t hide or pretend. The house was too small to force myself to believe it wasn’t in shambles, figuratively and metaphorically.
And honestly, I was too damn tired of playing that game.
I wasn’t okay.
My father wasn’t fine.
And my life was a fucking mess.
There. I admitted it. No need to spend money on a therapist when I could diagnose myself. I mean, I was going to school for psychology. Not sure if that made me the biggest joke.
Staying outside, I sat in the rickety wooden rocking chair that had once belonged to my grandma, a woman I saw very little of growing up. Like most things in our house, it was secondhand, but the shit was made to last. And nothing beat this view. When staring out into crystal blue waters with no end in sight, it mattered little how big or small the house behind me was.
I spooned a bite of melted key lime pie with the plastic utensil from the diner and watched the sun slowly sink into the horizon as I propped my aching feet up on the porch banister. The water frothed over the sandy shore, the waves ebbing and flowing in harmonious splashes. A pair of black skimmers yapped on the beach, looking for food, and tall beach grass blew in the wind.
I swallowed another bite of the sweet and tangy pie, my gaze drifting along the coast and eventually landing on the house next door. House wasn’t an appropriate word. Monstrosity was more fitting. It had to be one of the biggest, if not the biggest, on the Strand.
The Strand was a strip of homes along the ocean, and only a few original structures still stood, mine being one of them. Like the transitional colonial next door, the property had been sold, and the new owners tore down the smaller homes to be replaced with mansions worthy of being featured on TV.
A wealthy businessman bought the property next to ours five years ago. Roman Riley. I looked him up once out of curiosity. He had so many zeros behind his net worth I physically got sick. A finance guru who made millions on top of millions. He had three sons I’d never met, but I’d caught glimpses of them from my window and heard the stories circulating. I also didn’t put much stock into rumors seeing as I was constantly a topic of town gossip.
The house’s pristine dove-gray siding glistened under the glow of the sun. It had an impressive five bedrooms and six bathrooms. My house could fit into any of the single rooms. Hydrangeas bloomed everywhere. I swore the landscaper bought every last plant in the state that year. White columns graced the entrance as well as the back patio. All the houses on the Strand had a private dock and pier. And the icing on the cake was the infinity pool. I’d never seen anything like it and sighed thinking about it.
I dreamed about that damn pool, especially on the hottest days of the summer when I was melting in my room.
I knew much about my neighbor's house, including how beautifully the rooms were decorated, even though we definitely weren’t friendly. They refused to look in my direction the few times my path crossed with the owners. I’d never been invited in, but I did have a bad habit of sneaking into places I didn’t belong. The first year I’d broken into the house next door had been out of spite. It had been months after my father’s accident, and I was so fucking angry at everything. I hated the world.
And I longed for an escape.
The house next door provided that refuge if only for a short while. When I’d snuck around the large empty rooms, I could pretend to be someone else—have a different life. It let me forget my problems, my worries, and my burdens if only for a few hours.
So, whenever I needed to step out of my life, I slunk off next door. What a waste to let such a spectacular home go unoccupied for such long periods. A damn shame. In my mind, I was doing the Rileys a friendly service by breaking into their house.
If they hadn’t wanted anyone to wander in, they shouldn’t have used such a stupid code to unlock the doors. Our zip code was hardly creative. How cliché.
Rich people.
Biting the spoon between my teeth, I mulled over an idea. It had been months since I strayed next door. I’d been too busy with work and school to have any free time to myself.
But it was summer break, and it was so fucking hot.
It had a pool—a sparkling, cool, very vacant pool.
Surely, a dip wouldn’t hurt.
I mean, who in their right fucking mind built a home like that to only use three or four weeks a year?
The Rileys were very routine in their visits. They would be down for their annual Fourth of July party, which was three weeks away.
Fuck it.
Why the hell not?
It had been a long day, and nothing sounded better than to end it with a quick dip before settling inside for the night.
Scooping up the last dripping bit of pie, I set the container aside and stood. Forgoing shoes, I stripped off my socks, tossing them near my abandoned sneakers. The last thing I wanted was to try getting them back on my swollen feet.
Hot sand squished between my toes as I padded down the beach toward the Rileys’ house. No fence broke up our property lines, only towering trees and hydrangeas. Lots of fucking hydrangeas. But they smelled fantastic under the sinking sun, perfuming the salt air with their floral sweetness.
I squeezed between two pencil evergreens and let myself in through the stone and iron gate. I stared at a slice of heaven. My heart literally beat in excitement.
The houses on the Strand were a decent distance apart, and the trees offered nice coverage from creeping neighbors. Stripping off my clothes, I went to the edge of the water and dove in, not bothering to test the temp. Anything had to be better than this sweltering heat.
Cool bliss washed over my face and skin, the water slicing along the contours of my body as I moved, diving deeper into the pool’s depth before breaking the surface for air. I came up smiling. The pool company did a fantastic job maintaining the water year-round. Its crystal blue color shimmered under the waning sun. I could see to the bottom.
I did only a few laps. My body had suffered more than enough after being on my feet to put it through any serious swimming. Wading in the deep end near the infinity edge, I leaned my elbows onto the ledge and gazed at the view. I lived here my entire life on this beach, and as much as I wanted to escape Fallen Oaks and all the memories haunting me, this view was the one thing I never tired of.
Feet dangling in the water, I rested my chin on my hands and closed my eyes. A minute might have passed. Perhaps two when I heard the distinct sound of water splashing, followed by a ripple in the pool that hadn’t come from me.
What the hell?