Chapter Four
CHAPTER FOUR
I awoke with a startle.
Why am I so fucking hot?
And what the…
My fingers touched the ground next to me because it was definitely ground and not a bed.
Is that sand?
I opened my eyes, the bright morning light nearly blinding my retinas as I adjusted to my surroundings. The blue ocean winked in the distance. Lazy waves made their way to shore. I was on the beach.
I slowly sat up as the night before started to come back to me.
Waking up in a strange place always took a moment for me to acclimate to. You’d think after several years of traveling, I’d be used to it by now, but whenever I woke up in a strange hotel or tour bus, I always needed a moment or two to adjust.
Although I had to admit, waking up on the beach was a bit unusual.
Kind of nostalgic though.
“You want to get out of here?”
It’d been a spontaneous request, asking her to leave with me.
She’d made her intentions clear.
Hell, she’d even laid down a fucking rule book.
No personal questions. No names.
It was ridiculous. And kind of hot.
I’d thought I’d be okay with the idea of not getting to know her. After all, most of my encounters with the female variety as of late didn’t go beyond a night or two, and there generally wasn’t much talking involved. With the type of work I did, relationships were never really on my radar.
My life was music. There wasn’t a lot of time for anything else.
When I’d walked into that bar, I hadn’t expected much more than a mediocre burger and a bit of hearing damage. She was a damn good surprise, and I was happy for the distraction.
I enjoyed teasing her. I really enjoyed flirting with her. She was easy to talk to and was a hell of a lot better than eating alone in my car. But when she told me that story about her brother, I suddenly didn’t want the evening to end. I found myself wanting to ask her a dozen other questions.
Where did you grow up?
Why are you in Ocracoke?
What’s your name?
So, I asked her to leave with me.
And like she’d been doing all night, she surprised the hell out of me by saying yes.
I got up to pay our bill, a cheesy-ass grin plastered across my face as I imagined the look of pure shock on Hendrix’s face when I told him I’d picked up a woman at a karaoke bar of all places.
Without even exchanging names.
But then I remembered her somber face when she’d spoken about her brother, and I felt oddly protective of her.
Maybe I would keep this one to myself…
It didn’t take long to pay the tab, and as I turned back toward the table, I came to an abrupt stop.
It was empty.
I looked around, my eyes going from one side of the restaurant to the other.
I swallowed hard as I took in the face of every single person.
She was gone.
Maybe she’d gone to the restroom.
I headed back to the table to wait, and that was when I saw it. Written on the back of an old receipt was a single word that had twisted my heart in an unfamiliar way.
Sorry.
I looked out at the ocean, the morning sun steadily rising over the horizon. I wasn’t sure why I was taking her rejection so hard.
Maybe it was just that—the rejection. It wasn’t something I was used to. Doing what I did for a living, it wasn’t hard to find a warm and willing bed. Even when I was a hired gun in a band, I was still part of a band, and where there were musicians, there were women.
Maybe it was simply because I still didn’t know her name. That tiny detail bothered me more than it should.
Whatever it was, I’d left that karaoke bar feeling number than the moment I’d walked in, and I strongly considered just saying fuck it to this whole thing.
You still could.
The urge to flee was strong. I could just catch a ferry, and no one would even know I was ever here.
It was only eight in the morning, but it already felt like someone had turned the fucking furnace on and forgotten about it.
I wiped my brow and rose to my feet.
After I’d been ditched at the taphouse, I’d driven around a bit before heading here.
It was a place Macon and I had liked to go to when we were younger. A little off the beaten path and not known to many, except locals. I knew it’d be a good spot to camp out for the night.
I tried to sleep in the car, pushing the seat all the way back with the windows down, but it was too damn hot.
So, I’d slept on the beach. It hadn’t been the first time.
“Come on, Zander,” Macon said, pulling me from the truck. “We’re gonna sleep on the beach tonight.”
“Why?” I looked past him.
I could hear the waves, but the moon was barely a crescent tonight, and it was hard to see past my own hand.
I shuddered. Twelve-year-olds shouldn’t be afraid of the dark.
“Because I said so,” he snapped.
He scrubbed his hand down his face and sighed. He looked tired. He always looked tired. He’d gotten a job at the marina a few weeks ago, and I heard Dad yelling at him a lot more.
“Because I thought it would be fun,” he offered.
“Fun?”
“Yeah.” His expression softened a bit. I tilted my head. “We can be pirates, like Blackbeard.” He had my full attention, and he asked, “Did you know this is the beach where Blackbeard died?”
I gave him a blank stare. “It is not. That’s over by Springer’s Point.”
He grinned, clearly impressed. “Okay, so you do pay attention in school. I was worried since all you seem to do is play that guitar.”
His words sounded like a reprimand, but his eyes were filled with pride. He loved seeing me play that guitar, not just because he had gotten it for me, but because I was actually getting pretty good. Or at least that was what he told me.
I rolled my eyes. “When it’s about pirates, yeah. It’s the only cool thing about living here.”
“That and the tourists.”
“What?” I scrunched my eyebrows. What was so great about tourists?
“Never mind. You’ll find out when you’re older.” I made a gagging noise, and he laughed. “Anyway, tonight, we’re gonna sleep under the stars like the pirates did. Sound fun?”
I met his gaze and smiled. “Yeah, sounds fun.”
I had six figures in my savings account, just signed with one of the biggest bands in the world, and yet here I was, sleeping on the beach like I was a scared kid again.
Life really could come full circle.
I had no idea what my brother’s schedule was on the day of his big engagement party, but I figured I should show my face sooner rather than later. Nothing ruined a party more than your estranged brother dropping right in the middle of the champagne toast.
So, I decided to vacate my beach accommodations and head into town. My first order of business was getting some food in my belly and caffeine in my veins. Fourteen years ago, Ocracoke hadn’t had a coffee shop, so when I saw a sign for one, I hoped I might luck out and fly under the radar like I had last night.
The moment I stepped through the door, I knew I was screwed.
“Is that—” the older woman’s gaze sharpened as she stared me down from behind the counter. “No, it couldn’t be. Zander Green?”
Shit. Could I pretend I was someone else?
I merely smiled as sweat trickled down my back.
“Oh my goodness! It is you! My, how you’ve grown!” She threw her hands up in the air like I was her long-lost grandchild and beckoned me forward. I had no fucking clue who she was. “Come here!” she crooned. “Come here and give me a big old hug!”
Somehow, I managed not to roll my eyes.
God, I miss LA.
It took me a good ten minutes of mind-numbing chitchat before I was able to place an order.
“Where do you live?”
“What do you do?”
“Are you married? Kids?”
I answered as vaguely as I could because even though I hadn’t lived here in over a decade, I still remembered how this place worked. News spread like wildfire, and if I didn’t get my ass to Macon’s ASAP, the whole fucking town would be at his doorstep, announcing my arrival before I even had the chance to drive the five minutes to his house.
By the time I had my latte and breakfast sandwich in hand, I felt like I’d run a marathon, under water, while carrying lead weights. I slumped back in my rental car and breathed out a long breath.
“One more day,” I reminded myself.
By this time tomorrow, I’d be on my way back to the airport, and soon, I’d be rid of this place.
Once and for all.
I smiled, though it didn’t reach my eyes.
I ate my sandwich in record time and pulled out of the parking lot, driving down the main street toward Macon’s. I hadn’t planned on going to his house this early, but the crazy lady in the coffee shop kind of forced my hand, and it wasn’t like I had anything else to do.
Might as well go drop a big old bomb on my brother’s happy day.
It took less than five minutes to get to the address given on the invitation. I parked along the curb, my eyes sweeping over the manicured lawn and the bright yellow door. It was a far cry from the house we’d grown up in, and I guessed that made me feel… something .
I could leave here, knowing he was happy and doing well.
It was more than both of us could have ever hoped for.
I stepped out of the car and shoved my keys in my pocket, my coffee in my other hand. I’d changed in the car before I left the beach, so although I didn’t have the luxury of showering, I at least had fresh, sand-free clothes on.
Sleeping on the beach is not fun anymore.
Walking up to the driveway, I felt my belly flutter in anticipation.
What did I say when he pulled that door open?
Oh, hey, Macon. Long time no see?
Just came to say good-bye. For good.
God, this was gonna suck.
I stepped up to the door, swallowing down the heavy lump in my throat. I should have left my coffee in the car. Now, I looked like a total jackass, standing here in front of my brother’s front door, holding a damn latte like it was just another Tuesday.
Fuck.
I heard a chorus of female laughter, and I felt a slight sense of relief. At least no one was sleeping. Raising my hand to the door, I forced myself to knock.
No turning back now.
“Can you get that, Elena?” I heard someone shout. “I need more coffee for this shit.”
I grinned, realizing that voice probably belonged to my soon-to-be sister-in-law. A moment passed and then another until finally the door creaked open.
My world tilted.
“Louie?”
“Hey, Trouble.”
Her name was Elena Mendez.
The mystery woman from the bar, who I’d playfully nicknamed Louie, was actually named Elena, and she was currently staring at me from the opposite side of the threshold.
I knew Ocracoke was small, but this?
This was fucking insane.
Marin, my brother’s fiancée, recognized me immediately, her eyes widening as she took in my massive frame from across the room.
Does my brother have pictures of me?
I must have stunned her slightly because she wordlessly motioned me in, meeting me in the middle of the living room like we were old friends. She wrapped her arms around my stiff body while I silently tracked Elena as she stepped into the kitchen.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Marin said, her eyes misting with unshed tears. “I have to go call Macon. I’ll—I’ll be right back.”
She rushed down the hall, leaving my not-so-mystery dinner date and me alone.
“So,” I said, running my tongue along the back of my teeth. “Elena, huh?”
She bit the inside of her cheek as her arms folded in front of her. “Yep. And you must be Zander, the long-lost brother?”
I merely nodded.
An uncomfortable silence settled between us, one that hadn’t been present the night before. I took the opportunity to look around, noticing the oil paintings that hung on the walls and the photos that lined the mantel.
“I take it, you’re one of Marin’s friends?”
“Best friend,” she corrected. “And sister-in-law.”
My brow rose in confusion, and then I remembered the one personal detail she’d managed to reveal to me. “Your brother?”
She gave me a solemn nod. “Marin’s first husband. He died in the ferry accident six years ago.”
Jesus. My brother was marrying a widow? I took another turn around the room, realizing how little I knew about him.
It doesn’t matter.
You’re leaving tomorrow anyway.
Marin chose that moment to reappear, coming from the hallway and into the kitchen. She was just as stunning in person as their engagement photo. Tall with slim curves and dark brown waves. In her casual leggings and blouse, she was Elena’s opposite in almost every way.
Looking like she’d just stepped out of a Parisian cafe, Elena’s version of casual was a pair of black linen pants that cinched at the ankle, highlighting her chunky sandals and perfectly painted toes. Her tight white tank top accentuated her abundant curves and bronze skin. And if I didn’t stop staring, I was sure both women would start to notice.
“Macon is already on his way home,” Marin informed me. “He was at the station, but it’s technically his day off.” She paused, her cheeks flushing red before she added, “Macon’s the sheriff. I guess I should have led with that.”
“I know,” I answered, attempting to ease her nervousness. “I haven’t kept up on everything, but I heard about that.”
I left out the part about my nosy-as-fuck roommate.
Silence engulfed the room as we all tried to find some common ground.
Before things started to go from awkward to downright uncomfortable, the door burst open. I turned, and for the first time in years, I found myself staring into the familiar gaze of my big brother.
“Zander,” he said, a bit breathless. He must have broken a law or two to get here that fast.
“Hey, Macon,” I greeted him. My chest felt tight as I tried to maintain my smile.
He looked frozen in place, like he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. I tried not to let that affect me.
He left you.
He chose to walk away.
Now, you will do the same.
I swallowed back the hard lump in my throat as I watched Marin walk toward him, offering a hand and pulling him toward her. It was then that he seemed to snap out of whatever trance he had been in. He turned toward her, his expression morphing into something so personal that I had to look away. I noticed I wasn’t the only one. Elena’s brown eyes found mine just then, and she gave me a hesitant smile.
I knew I was here to talk to my brother, but that one smile made me want to take her hand and drag her into one of those empty rooms at the end of the hallway and demand answers.
Why did she leave?
Did she regret it?
Did she think about me?
But she wasn’t my priority.
And now that I’d learned who she was, I knew she’d done us both a favor by walking out of that bar.
This was far more complicated than either of us had ever anticipated.
“Are you—” my brother began. His words were hoarse, and I noticed Marin’s hand slip into his.
“I’m here for your engagement party,” I said. “If you can fit one more, that is. I know I didn’t RSVP.”
He looked visibly wrecked, his eyes glassy, as if he was trying to hold in a dozen emotions. I dug my fingernails into my palm.
Don’t react. Don’t react.
“We absolutely have room,” Marin finally answered, not even trying to cover the tears streaking her cheeks. “We’d love to have you.”
“Great.”
“Elena.” Marin turned to her friend as she wiped the moisture from her eyes. “Why don’t we head to the coffee shop and grab some refreshments? I see Zander’s already made a stop.” She motioned to the forgotten coffee cup I’d placed on the kitchen island. “But there is never enough coffee and pastries, right?”
Her gaze quickly shifted to Macon and then mine. She gave a tentative smile. God, she was horribly transparent. It’d be annoying if she wasn’t so wholesome about her intentions.
“Right,” Elena agreed, giving me a sideways glare.
What did I do?
Both Macon and I stood there, awkwardly staring at each other, while the women moved about the house, grabbing keys and purses.
Elena finished first, and she brushed past me, toward the door, briefly stopping at my side. Her words were barely audible, but I heard them nonetheless. “Do not ruin this day for him.”
She remembered what I’d said last night.
“I’m not here to mend fences.”
She didn’t even wait for any sort of acknowledgment. I watched as she gave Macon a dazzling smile and patted him on the shoulder.
I felt a twinge of jealousy, seeing how at ease she was with him.
“Take care of my girl,” he told her.
“Always do, Hot Cop.”
He rolled his eyes, chuckling under his breath.
Marin followed close behind, and I once again looked away as the two lovebirds whispered sweet nothings in each other’s ear and kissed each other good-bye. The door finally shut, and then it was just the two of us.
Nearly a decade and a half worth of silence settled between us. A clock ticked somewhere in the house. A bird passed by the window and cawed.
I let out a huff.
“Your accent is gone,” he commented. “There’s not even a hint of twang anymore.”
I shrugged. “Got me laid for a while.” I grinned. “West Coast girls love a Southern boy, but I eventually just sort of lost it.”
More like dropped it. On purpose.
After a few years of living on the West Coast, I had gotten tired of being asked where I grew up every time I opened my mouth. It had been like being dragged back to that sad little house over and over again.
“Got a few more tattoos since I last saw you.” He motioned to my arms, making my gaze drift downward. I had no idea why. It wasn’t like I didn’t know they were there.
I’d ditched the hoodie today, and I was sporting a vintage Rolling Stones tee, ripped black shorts, and a pair of Converse. With that much skin showing, all the tats were out on display.
“Once you get one,” I said, “it’s kind of hard to stop. I’m surprised you never got one, being in the military.”
He shrugged. “Never really had anything I wanted to put on my body permanently,” he confessed. “Although I’ve been thinking of getting something before the wedding as a surprise for Marin.”
I winced. “You want to get your fiancée’s name? Isn’t that a little risky?” I mean, the guy already had one divorce in the rearview.
“Nah,” he said, a wide grin spreading across his face. “We’re a done deal. She’s it for me.”
Although our parents’ marriage had been a train wreck, I knew others were not. Lance and his wife, Tilly, had proven that to me. I knew real love existed out there, and I hoped, for my brother’s sake, that he’d found it this time around.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Macon said softly as we both headed over to the living room. He went and sat in an oversized gray chair, and I took the sofa directly across from him. “I hoped you’d come, but I never?—”
“I wanted to come to the wedding,” I lied. I didn’t want to come to the wedding. Not even a little. “But I’ve got a lot of things going on right now, so I wanted to at least show up for this.”
He looked up at me, his expression shredded. “You can’t make it to the wedding?”
I shook my head. “Sorry, man.”
He visibly pulled himself together as he sank further into his seat. “No, it’s okay. You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”
I winced. He was being way too nice.
“Where are you staying?” he asked, throwing a foot over his knee.
He was in better shape than the last time I’d seen him, which was something, considering he’d been just a few years out of boot camp then. He no longer had the intense buzz cut or the severe edginess that had surrounded him though.
When the wedding invite had first come, I’d looked at that picture of the two of them and thought, No way —there was no way two people could be that happy.
But sitting across from him now, I realized it wasn’t an act.
He looked like he’d scored the fucking jackpot.
“Oh, um, just one of the hotels in town,” I answered, looking at one of the oil paintings on the wall. “Is that local?”
“It’s Marin’s,” he answered matter-of-factly. “What hotel?”
“Uh, The Cozy Motel.” My gaze was still fixated on that painting. “Marin’s an artist? She’s good. Does she showcase in town?”
A moment of silence followed, then another.
“Did you know you still avoid eye contact when you lie?”
My eyes snapped to his. “What do you mean?”
His hands rested on his lap, his shoulder back as his intense gaze pinned me in place. At that moment, he looked every bit the authoritative sheriff he was. It was intimidating as fuck.
“The Cozy Motel hasn’t been in business for years.”
Shit. I should have noticed that last night. I’d been too focused on finding food.
“So, I’ll ask again,” he said. “Where are you staying?”
“You know where we used to sleep like pirates?”
“You’re sleeping on the fucking beach, Zander?” His voice was filled with shock, but there was also a hint of regret, too. Maybe those were conflicting memories for him, too.
“This was kind of a spur-of-the-moment trip for me,” I explained, hoping he wouldn’t ask why.
“A letter arrived for you today at the bar,” Hendrix said.
I lay sprawled out on the hotel bed, freshly showered but utterly wiped. Five months, twenty cities. No fucking sleep.
“At the bar?”
“Yeah.” He hesitated. “It’s from your brother. Looks kind of fancy.”
My stomach tightened as I stared up at the ceiling. “Just leave it in the stack with the rest.”
“You don’t want me to open it?”
“No,” I answered. “It’s not important.”
It had taken me another three days after I got home to break the seal.
I avoided his gaze. “There isn’t exactly a lot of options in Ocracoke for accommodations in the summer.”
He let out a sigh. “No, there isn’t.”
“It’s no big deal,” I told him. “I’m leaving tomorrow anyway. And it’s not like I’ve never slept on the beach before.”
“It is a big deal,” he countered. “We’re not helpless kids, trying to avoid one of Dad’s benders. I can find somewhere for you to stay.”
“Macon,” I sighed. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. You’ve got enough on your plate, and unless you went and bought a hotel I don’t know about, there’s really nowhere for me to stay. And I’m not staying here—that would be just fucking weird.”
“It wouldn’t be weird,” he argued.
I gave him an incredulous stare. “On the night of your engagement party? Come on, brother. I know it’s not your wedding night or anything, but no one wants that kind of cockblock. I’ve met your fiancée. She would make it her life’s mission to be hostess of the year.”
He laughed. “You’re not wrong about that. But I’ve got other options. Just give me a little bit of time. I’ll figure something out, okay? We’re family,” he said, his warm gaze meeting mine. “We take care of each other.”
Family…
That single word made my heart squeeze, and as much as I wanted to argue with him, I simply nodded, remembering Elena’s plea. “All right. Whatever you want.”