The Seal’s Promise (The Southern Hart Brothers #1)

1. You Can Always Go Home

CHAPTER ONE

Dalton

You Can Always Go Home

D alton Hart’s boots crunched in the dusting of sand along the weathered wooden pier. Ten steps down, he stood in the broken shells washed up by the tide. Waves crashed about twenty feet away, and the beach was deserted. It was too rainy for an evening walk and the sun was already setting, but this was the first place he’d needed to stop.

The salty air was crisp and a fog hung over the ocean. Steep dunes that held up the precarious two-lane road ran along the coast casting shadows on the beach.

Fifteen years seemed too long and not long enough at the same time. He watched as the last bit of daylight sank into the ocean, turning the sky pitch dark, and climbed back up the dock to his rental car. It was going to be difficult to be back here in every way, but the SEAL team had taught him a lot about getting through hard situations. Hopefully that mental toughness wouldn’t fail him, because he was at war with himself just driving back to this town, where he’d already lost so much.

*

“Dalton James Hart, as I live and breathe, is that really you standing on my clean kitchen floor with sandy boots?” his grandmother asked, her stern voice dripping in a Southern twang.

Fighting a smile, he set down his bag and proceeded to untie his boots and walk them back out to the covered deck.

“If I find a spider in those tomorrow I’ll scream like a girl,” he said.

He leaned down to embrace his grandmother and lift her off her feet. All one hundred pounds of her.

“Oh, put me down, you brute. I’ll break a hip.”

He kissed her wrinkled cheek covered in powder and blush and smelled her signature floral scent, then set her back down.

“I’m sorry I’ve stayed away so long.”

His grandmother narrowed her eyes as her hands landed on her hips.

“I reckon you’ll be sorry, but you know what I always say.”

“Apologies are for mistakes and assholes?”

“That’s right. If you’d behaved, there wouldn’t be a need to apologize.”

He couldn’t help but laugh and feel an instant tug of both regret and happiness standing in his paternal grandmother’s kitchen, also his childhood home.

“Alright. Wash up, then have a seat for a real home-cooked meal—you don’t look like you’re being fed regularly.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dalton walked into the hall and looked around. The layout was the same, but the colors and furniture had changed. The large Georgia home had tall ceilings with crisscrossing wood beams and oversize light fixtures. It was a mix of mid-century, modern, and coastal. It was the house he’d grown up in and had run away from the same day he graduated high school.

After washing his hands in the hall bathroom, he stepped back into the kitchen to find one place setting. His grandmother brought several covered dishes out of the oven and set them on the table.

“You’re not eating with me?”

“I had a bite earlier and I can’t eat all this rich food anymore, but I made your favorites. Homemade greens, mac and cheese, and crab cakes.”

“You made all this for me?”

“Of course! You’re still my third favorite grandson, even if you did stay gone for over a decade.”

Her lips were pursed together, giving Dalton no doubt how she felt.

“Gran, we need to talk about it if I’m going to help you. On the phone you told me that you’re at the end of your life and that Levi has gone off the deep end. Then you said we needed an intervention before you die.”

“Oh, Dalton, are you sure I said all that? That doesn’t sound like something I’d say.”

“Yes, I’m sure, and when I said I had a career and home in Virginia, you said that if I didn’t come home now I’d regret it for the rest of my life and you’d never forgive me. That was right before you went radio silent and stopped taking my calls.”

“Well, I am seventy-one, you know, so I forget sometimes, but I do vaguely recall calling you one night after accidentally mixing my medicine with my margaritas.”

Dalton sighed. “Gran, you weren’t drunk when we spoke last, you were worried. So we need to talk about what’s going on,” he said with a calm tone. He was starting to suspect he’d fallen into a trap. “If you’re sick or dying I want to be here for you.”

“Technically we’re all dying, Dalton, I mean, who is to say this won’t be my last night on this earth?”

“Grandma Hart, what is going on?”

She stood and refolded the dish towel that was already neatly hanging from the side of her farm-style sink.

“First things first, you have to promise not to tell your brothers or anyone else.” She pointed a finger at him. “As my doctor you have to keep my medical information private.”

Dalton crossed his arms. “Technically I’m not your doctor, but I’ll agree to your terms for now.”

She leaned back against the old butcher-block counter.

“Last year I started to notice that I was forgetting things and having some trouble with my vision. But my doctor said that was normal in our later years, and my eye doctor gave me these darn reading glasses.” She patted the glasses hanging around her neck on a gold chain.

“But…”

“Well, I still don’t feel right. So, I was googling my symptoms and a few things popped up from dementia to heart disease, glaucoma, blood clots, you name it.”

“Gran, you can’t self-diagnose your health problems online. What do you mean, exactly, that you don’t feel right?”

About an hour later, Dalton still knew almost nothing about his grandmother’s health, but he was caught up on a decade’s worth of town gossip, and had polished off two helpings of home cooking. Although she liked to give off a cosmopolitan, posh grandmother vibe, she was as traditional as they came. There was even a homemade peach pie sitting atop the glass dessert stand in the center of the kitchen table next to a pitcher full of wildflowers.

“I can’t tell if you’re being dodgy about what’s really going on with you because you’re in denial and terrified, or if this was all some big ruse to get me to agree to come home,” he challenged her.

Brushing away a swoop of her flowy silver hair that stopped just above her shoulders, she feigned innocence.

“Dalton, I would never lie to you about something like this.”

“Oh no, but you would lie about other things?”

“Omission is not a lie, neither is avoidance.”

“Alright, we’re going to go see your doctor and get a full workup done this week.”

“I’ve already had a full workup, all of my blood tests done, and I’m up to date on all my medical appointments.”

“I want to review it all. Maybe we need to see a specialist.”

“The hospital is short-staffed, so we’ll need to head into Savannah if we’re looking for anything beyond my primary care doctor.”

“Then we’ll do just that. Now tell me what’s going on with Levi—he doesn’t really communicate much beyond texts. He had a great season last year.”

She let out a deep breath as if she was happy to change the subject.

“We’re going to need pie for this one.”

Before he could ask why, the screen door opened and the massive form of his oldest brother, Wes, appeared. His shoulders were so broad he needed to turn his body as he entered the large eat-in kitchen, which immediately seemed more cramped.

His brother’s light brown eyes fell on him as he removed his work belt. Both his gun and his sheriff’s badge gleamed.

“Did you save me any crab cakes?” Wes asked.

“Wesley, I think what you meant to say was hello to your brother before you start asking about dinner,” their gran said, one hand on her hip.

“Dalton, oh yah, that is you! I almost didn’t recognize you; it’s been so long since I’ve seen you. I’m shocked you actually remembered how to find this place anymore.”

Dalton stood up—he knew this was coming. He’d brought it on himself. It had been his fault he hadn’t seen his brothers in years. Their parents had died his senior year of high school and Dalton left just three months later. He hadn’t come back, hadn’t been around to help at all, and Wesley had been the one who’d stayed.

“Wes, it’s nice to see you. I’m sorry I stayed away so long, but I’m back now.” He held out his hand—as if a handshake was a proper peace offering—but he didn’t know what else to say or do.

Wes just looked him over and shook his head. “Let’s not be too hasty. I’m happy that you and Gran get to have a visit in person, but I’m not at all convinced you’ll stay very long.” Then his brother turned his back to him and began to wash his hands in the kitchen sink.

“Wes,” their grandmother admonished him.

“No, Gran, I deserve that and I’m up to the challenge. The truth is I quit my job and rented out my place so I don’t have anything to return to.”

Wesley nodded. “We’ll see.”

“How’s work? The town looks bigger,” Dalton said. Trying to move the conversation along was like walking through knee-high mud.

Wesley fixed his plate and carried it over to the table to set it down, pulled out his chair, sat, and fiddled with his fork. His eyes met Dalton’s, and for a moment Dalton thought he was going to lecture him, but then his big brother just smiled.

“The town has doubled in population since we were kids, but most of that is summer families. Your bestie from high school keeps building beach condos and posh subdivisions just outside the town limits.”

“The Banks brothers are the cause of all those colorful houses on Beach Drive?” Dalton asked, happy for a change of subject, but just barely.

“Oh, that’s mostly their father’s work; those boys don’t call the shots,” Gran said as she joined them at the table.

“Tyler Banks is just as greedy as his father and his plans go beyond ruining this town. They’ll change the entire look of the Georgia coastline once they’re done,” Wes said before taking a big bite.

Dalton ran his hand along the now-cleared tablecloth in front of him.

“So I guess that means you’re staying busy as deputy sheriff, and managing the Hart property?”

He didn’t miss Wes and Gran exchanging a look.

“Is that why you’re back, come to check on your inheritance?” Wes said.

“Wesley.”

“It’s fine, Gran, Wes has every right to think whatever he wants about me. But no, I’m only here to fix things. I don’t know how long that’s going to take but I’m here at least until it’s done.”

“Okay, you can start with the fence line along the beach and help oversee the sale of the Hart pier.”

“Sale? You’re selling the pier our great-grandfather built?”

“Unless you have a million bucks to fund the repairs and taxes, then yes, the pier is for sale.”

Dalton sighed. “And let me guess, the Banks family are the buyers.”

“So far they’re the only ones offering, and you can believe it’s a lowball.”

“Have you talked to Levi about it yet?”

“I was planning on talking to him before the playoffs, but he’s tough to pin down.”

“Okay, I guess we can all discuss our options then. I have some savings I could contribute. Maybe we could qualify for a loan?”

“We’ll talk about it with Levi,” Wes said, and took a big bite of his meal, essentially ending the conversation.

Clearly more had changed than he expected if his brother was considering selling off part of their family estate to the one family in town who had always been their rivals. Even their parents didn’t like each other when they were kids. The Harts and the Bankses had a bad history, and some things never changed. But he was back now, and he was going to have to face everything head on.