7 #3
“Bah, fancy words, but it’s still a bar,” he says with a wave of his hand. I chuckle. “I’ll be sure to pass by.” He tucks his hands into his elbows. “How’s your father? Haven’t seen him around much.” Talbot’s brow wrinkles with his concerned frown. “Your mother tells me he’s seen better days.”
Small towns don’t offer much privacy. There isn’t anywhere I could go where others wouldn’t know my business. I’m not sure why I assumed Talbot’s would be any different. “He has, but he’s a trooper.”
Talbot tucks his thin lips. “All you Adamses are. Since way back when Jedidiah Adams first settled here. You’re a strong family. Everyone knows that.” He nods, his eyes growing distant. “Good family.”
“We sure are, sir,” I say, placating the man, and head toward the whiskey. Old Man Talbot is a saint, but his love of Oakwhite Bay’s history and genealogy leads to long-winded conversations I don’t have the time for.
I pick up the bottle I need, then hurry to pay for it. Hurry is a strong word—it takes Talbot about ten minutes to figure out the credit card machine.
Finally deciding to pay with cash, I let him keep the change. “Take care, Mr. Talbot.”
“You too, Bill,” he says and settles back onto his stool. I do a double-take, my heart breaking at his slip-up, then step out of the store.
Weighed down by this anxiety pressing in on me, I place the bottle in the back seat of my car, and take a walk down the block towards the beach for a breather.
Under the moonlight, the water is like charcoal coated with silver threads. I inhale a deep breath of ocean air, then drop my head back, staring at the stars above, but everything I’m dealing with settles onto my shoulders like a lead weight.
My dad. Our unresolved issues. The failing inn. Maxine’s animosity. The hostility between us.
Eventually, I’ll have no choice but to acknowledge the massive issue that sits between Max and me, but it all takes a major backseat to my father. His illness, the regret for all the missed years, and the repercussions from not being here, have me feeling especially lost.
I bend down and pick up a rock from the beach. My jaw clenches. A guttural sound escapes my throat as I heave it into the ocean, watching it disappear beneath the dark, inky surface. If only I could get rid of my problems as easily.
Once back in my car, I take a drive by the sea, turning up the volume on some eighties rock to keep my thoughts occupied.
Ten minutes later, I pull into the cemetery, following the small gravel road that weaves through it, and make a mental note to avoid holding my breath, a habit from my childhood. I spot Maxine’s car parked ahead and pull up behind it.
Turning off the ignition, I gaze out beyond the tombstones and see a faint glow of candles. I step out of my car in time to catch Maxine rushing back toward hers.
“You’re already leaving?” I ask.
She tucks her head either because she’s crying or ignoring me.
“Max…ine,” I tack on, not wanting to get my head bitten off. “Wait.”
As if she didn’t hear me, she reaches her car, shoving the key into the door.
“You actually lock this thing?” I tease, stepping closer to her old sedan, but then she looks up, shooting daggers at my head. Her eyes glisten, and her cheeks are splotchy.
“It locks automatically.” She twists the key, trying the handle, but the thing doesn’t open. “Fucking hell.”
“Here, let me help.”
With her back to me, she stands between me and the car. “No, I’m fine.”
The sound of her sniffle breaks my heart. I shouldn’t care why she’s upset, but I do and place a hand on her shoulder. “Let me.”
She hesitates, then consents with a small nod and takes a step back. I remove the key, then slide it in, angling it just so and the door unlocks. “There you go.”
“My savior,” she deadpans, ripping the keys from my hand. Without another word, she gets into her car, slams the door and peels away, the tires kicking up stones from the road.
Some things never change.
I groan, then meet Hunter at the gravesite, and hand him the bottle of Johnny Walker Blue Label.
“So, it’s just us?” I ask, the surrounding darkness making me acutely aware of how alone we are.
I glance back at my car as if the weight of what lies between me and Max is watching, like a vengeful spirit.
“Looks like,” Hunter answers, his voice low and hoarse. “Spencer took Bethany out of town for her birthday, and Max…”
“Is Max. I get it.” While nodding, my eyes trace Seth’s name etched on the tombstone, trying to focus on the reason I’m here, but I soon lose focus, my thoughts returning to that pain in the ass redhead.
I crumple the paper bag, forcing out a long exhale.
“She had to go,” Hunter says, reading my mind, and I grin.
“Sure, she did.” It’s annoying that Maxine is ruining what should be a solemn but peaceful celebration. “She’s unbelievable, you know that? All I want to do is talk and—”
“And she’ll fight it as long as she can.” Hunter’s hardly ever wrong, and he knows his baby sister better than anyone else.
I crack my neck. “All right. Let’s do this.” I break the bottle’s seal and raise it up in salute to our fallen friend. “Happy birthday, Seth. Gone too soon, but never forgotten.”