This Kind of Forever (Kip Island #2)

Chapter 1

ONE

GABE

Parent-teacher conferences make my skin itch.

Or maybe it’s just setting foot inside the school I hated for the decade I had to attend.

Although we’re twins, my sister Clara and I had very different elementary school experiences.

As the only girl in the family, she stood out on her own.

But me? I was Luke Bowman’s younger brother.

I love my brother, and I look up to him in a lot of ways, but constantly being compared to him got old the day I started kindergarten.

The school gym looks no different than it did the day of my grade eight graduation fourteen years ago.

At the time, it hadn’t improved much from when my parents had attended as kids—the same white brick walls, covered in colourful handprints from each graduating class that had come before, and banners from various sports competitions hanging from the rafters.

“You look like you could use a drink.”

Delilah presents a small paper cup to me.

In the few months it’s been since my brother’s girlfriend moved to the island, we’ve become good friends.

My daughter and her sister are attached at the hip now, so we weren’t given much of a choice.

It helps that I like her, though. Especially because she doesn’t put up with Luke’s shit.

I take the offered cup and peer inside. “Fruit punch?”

She grins. “The stiffest drink the meet the teacher barbecue has to offer.”

There are a lot of things you don’t really consider about parenthood until you’re thrust into the thick of it.

One of those things is having to attend functions at your kid’s school and mingle with a bunch of other people who don’t want to be there for one reason or another.

I’d give my life for my daughter, but I’d rather be anywhere else than this stuffy gymnasium.

“Your first one,” I say. “How are you holding up?”

Her smile dims a little. Delilah took guardianship of her siblings last year and abruptly went from older sister to parent figure. The Delacroixes have had their share of setbacks since then, but it seems like things are slowly becoming more manageable.

“Alright,” she says. She looks down, picking at the lip of her cup. “It never gets easier having to rehash what happened, but I figured Soph’s teacher should have all the details in case it impacts her at school. Just working up the courage to talk to her.”

I offer her an encouraging smile. “It’ll be a bit of a transition, but Soph will be okay. Kids are tougher than you realize, and you’ll be there to help her.”

Her expression turns grateful, but then her gaze flicks to something over my shoulder. Turning, I find my older brother striding toward us. He’s dressed in his work clothes, so he must have come straight here from the fire station. I would have, too, if I hadn’t worked a night shift last night.

“Hey,” Delilah calls. “What are you doing here?”

Luke’s arm slides around her shoulders, and he presses a quick kiss to her lips. “I know you’re nervous about this. Thought I’d come offer some moral support.”

She leans into him. “Thank you.”

“Where’s Soph?” he asks, looking around the gym.

I point to the far corner, where Delilah’s sister is standing with my daughter and a few other kids. They’ve been running around for the past fifteen minutes. “Abbie is determined to bring her out of her shell.”

Delilah looks in their direction, worry marring her features. “I hope she makes more friends here. She was pretty upset when I told her Abbie couldn’t be in her class because she’s in a different grade.”

“She will,” Luke assures. “In the meantime, she’s got Abbs. They’ll see each other at recess.”

Delilah sighs. “I guess I should go find her teacher now. We’ll see you later, Gabe.”

They walk away, and I pull out my phone, sending Abbie’s mom an update about the uneventful evening. Larissa is usually here to laugh at my misery, but she took another nurse’s shift today and is still at work.

Only twenty more minutes . Then I’ll tell Abbie it’s time to go. I’ve already met and spoken to her teacher for this year, so I’ve done my part.

I really shouldn’t complain. I like being present for my daughter, and she’s a great kid. I just really hate being in this goddamn school.

“Mr. Bowman?”

Looking up from my phone, I find Trina Reynolds standing in front of me. She taught Abbie’s senior kindergarten class last year. I remember her a little from when we were in high school. She’s a year or two younger than me, but in such a small town, it’s impossible not to at least know of everyone.

I smile at her, pocketing my phone. “Just Gabe is fine.”

Her cheeks pinken, and she flashes me a coy smile in return. “Just Gabe, then.”

It takes me a second to register, but the way she’s looking at me makes me realize she didn’t come over here to talk about Abbie. My smile falls a fraction. I wasn’t trying to flirt with her or anything.

But maybe I should?

It wasn’t that long ago when Luke asked if I was seeing anyone.

I’m sure it was just a way for him to get the attention off himself, back when he still had his head up his ass where Delilah was concerned, but maybe he had a point.

I haven’t dated in…a while. Kip Island isn’t exactly brimming with eligible bachelorettes.

Most of my former classmates left and haven’t come back, and those that stayed are already married and a couple kids deep.

Trina is definitely attractive. Her long, chestnut hair sits in uniform curls over her shoulders. She’s tall and willowy, and her clothing hints at slight curves. She’s pretty, and she’s nice. I remember her being kind to everyone, going out of her way to make friends.

“How’s the new school year treating you?” I ask.

Her smile widens as she fiddles with the ends of her hair. “Pretty good so far! Though it’s definitely that beginning-of-the-year rush. It usually wears off by the end of September.”

“I can imagine,” I say. “I don’t know how you do it. I feel like I’ve got my hands full with one, let alone a class of twenty-five.”

Trina laughs. “It’s not easy, but I do love it. Even if I want to tear my hair out from time to time.”

That sounds like something Hallie would say .

Instantly, I feel myself wanting to cringe.

I hadn’t seen my sister’s best friend in ten years.

Not until she showed up at my parents’ house the other night, fresh off the ferry from Tobermory.

She barely even looked at me. I haven’t laid eyes on her in the week since, but after the way we left things before she moved off the island, she’s been on my mind more than I care to admit.

Trina. Focus on Trina .

“I’m sure you know all about that,” she goes on. “Being a firefighter can’t be the easiest job.”

It isn’t. Not by a long shot. Kip Island, as a general rule, isn’t very exciting.

The mundanity is a lure to many, and it makes for slow days at the station, especially in the winter.

But when we do get called, it’s almost always to help someone at least one member of the crew has a personal connection to.

A neighbour, friend, loved one. I have a complicated relationship with my job, but at the end of the day, it gave me stability when I needed it.

I shrug. “It has its moments, but that’s the name of the game.”

She shifts closer, setting a hand on my arm. I fight the pull of awkwardness I feel. “That’s so noble. And brave . It’s amazing that there are such selfless people like you out there. We need more of that in this world.”

That awkwardness turns to slight discomfort.

There isn’t anything blatantly wrong with what she said, but her words make me leery.

I don’t want to be put on a pedestal. I don’t deserve that.

I like helping people, yes, but I didn’t go into this career with selfless intentions. It’s just a job, like anybody else has.

I want to give Trina the benefit of the doubt, though. She seems a little nervous. Maybe she just doesn’t know what to talk about. Or maybe she thinks I want to hear flattery like that. That my ego needs to be pumped up.

I chuckle a bit. “You’re not wrong there.”

She takes her hand off my arm, but she shifts another couple centimetres closer. “Listen, Gabe, I was…” She trails off, and I wait patiently for her to get her words out. “You see, I was wondering if you’d maybe…”

A flash of blonde in my peripheral has my head jerking to the side. Hallie? It couldn’t be. Still, that hair…

Some part of me recognizes I’m being rude, but the bigger part of me doesn’t care. If Hallie is here, then I need to find her. I’ve had days to think about what her being back on Kip Island means, and I know we can’t avoid each other forever. I don’t want to avoid her.

Turning back to Trina, I say, “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

“Oh. Uh, okay.” Her cheeks are now flaming, and I feel guilty as hell. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Bowman. I hope Abbie has a good school year.”

Fuck . I feel like the biggest asshole alive. I am the biggest asshole alive.

But I nod and say, “Thanks. See you around.” And then I walk away.

Scanning the gym, I search for the woman that caught my attention. I find her amongst a group of older parents. But when I get close enough to see her face, I realize it’s not her. It’s not Hallie.

Of course it isn’t.

Not for the first time, I feel like a major idiot where Hallie is concerned. Something about her— everything about her—makes my thoughts scramble.

With a shake of my head, I turn in the opposite direction. I’m more than ready to go home now.

Luke intercepts me as I’m heading toward where Abbie and Sophia are playing. “You okay?” he asks, brow raised. “You look spooked.”

I nod. “I’m fine. I just…thought I saw Hallie.”

His eyes narrow. “Why would she be here?”

She wouldn’t. That’s the problem. There is no logical reason why she would be at Kip Island Public School, so why did I see blonde hair that isn’t even the same shade as hers and almost lose my mind?

I wave him off. “Abbs and I are gonna head out. I’ll see you at work, boss.”

I leave Luke standing there with a worried crease between his brows. He has a bad habit of thinking he’s responsible for me and our sister, even though we’re grown adults. But whether he thinks it or not, I’ll be fine.

Hallie is back. She clearly doesn’t want to see me, but she’ll be around. That’s just something I’ll have to accept. And eventually, I’ll move on—I’ll stop seeing her in every blonde woman that crosses my path.

I’ll be fine.