Chapter Two
Ash
The bus jostled me awake as the wheels hit a speed bump on the edge of town. They must be new, as they weren’t there before I went away, though coming up to four years since I’d left, I should have guessed the place had changed in my absence.
Another jolt, another speed bump as the bus wound along the narrow streets, the mostly white or gray wood-clad houses lining the sidewalks becoming denser as we drew closer to the center, before turning onto Main Street and the heart of the town with a host of independent shops, bars, and restaurants. Wholesome and quaint, with 1950s nostalgia thrown in. The tourists loved it.
After the bus pulled to a stop, I dragged my duffel off the seat next to me and exited the vehicle. On the sidewalk near a small park, I reacquainted myself with my surroundings. Rolling the stiffness out of my shoulders from having sat in a cramped seat for so long, I breathed in deeply and let the sharp scent of the ocean fill my senses, removing the last of the stale air-conditioning odor I’d had for company over the last few days.
Forgotten memories of walks along the sand with my aunt and surfing with my friends bubbled to the surface. I’d traveled to a lot of beaches in the last few years, but nothing held the salty sharpness of the sea in the same way as Melrose Bay.
Home. I was home.
“You gonna stand there like an ass all day, or we gonna get a hug?”
Spinning around, I stopped dead at the sight of three men leaning against the side of a beat-up old truck. Two smiling and the other, Sawyer, sporting his usual unreadable expression.
“You still got that heap of junk?” I baited him. Instantly his chest puffed out, all indignant, making me chuckle. He’d always been so easy to rile.
“Don’t go insulting Matilda,” he warned, laying his hand on the side of the battered green-and-white 1970s Chevy C10 pickup, then reverently stroking down the paintwork, before fixing me with his turquoise-blue eyes. “Or you can walk your sorry ass back out of town.”
“Yeah, don’t be rude to the lady,” Flynn tacked on, his grin wide.
“For crying out loud,” Cam groused, heading over to me. “Ignore those two.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “They’re just messing with you, ’cause you’re late arriving.”
Damn, I’d missed these guys.
Cam had filled out in the last four years. Big, with cropped brown hair, and dark brown eyes, he’d packed on some serious muscle, and it was like being hugged by a wrestler, his big arms wrapping me up so tight.
“Glad to have you back,” he murmured in my ear and hugged me some more.
“You gonna maul him to death or what?” Flynn moaned, shoving Cam out of the way. “C’mere.” And he pulled me into his arms. Shorter than my six feet by a good few inches, slim, and surprisingly strong, the air huffed out of me as he squeezed me hard. Leaning away, he flicked his auburn hair out of his pale gray eyes and grinned. “About time you came home.” Then, he added seriously, “We missed you, Ashton.”
My throat suddenly closed up, making speaking hard. “Missed you too, Flynn. All of you,” I managed to get out, casting my gaze to the others.
Flynn released me, standing to the side as Sawyer took his place in front of me. Jet black hair poked out from under his backward-facing baseball cap. His black tank and jeans highlighted the intense aqua blue of his eyes. He waited, standing casually, as if he could have cared less if I was there or not. I knew differently, so of course, closed the distance between us and gave him a hug. He went stiff for a second, then relaxed into me, briefly slapping me on the back a couple of times before pulling away. I let him go, knowing that’s about as much of a welcome as I’d get.
He slung an arm around my neck. “Come on,” he said, his voice rough. “Let’s drop your shit off so we can go to the Bayside for a proper welcome.”
“That place is still there?” I shook my head. “I’d have thought they’d have shut the stinking hole down years ago.”
He laughed, rich and deep, grabbed my bag, and slung the duffel into the bed of his truck. “Nah, new owners took over. Cleaned the place up.”
Perhaps more things had changed around here than I thought.
The four of us squeezed snugly into the front of Sawyer’s pride and joy. Thankfully, the drive didn’t last long, and after a few minutes, we turned down the quiet lane on the far side of town, pulling up on the drive of Aunt Mary Ellen’s, and now, my home.
That was going to take some getting used to.
She hadn’t really been my aunt, more a close friend of my mom’s, but growing up that’s what I’d always called her, as she’d been the closest thing to one I’d ever had. She was all you’d ever want in a favorite, and somewhat eccentric, relative. Long, silver hair piled on her head in a messy bun held together by multiple pencils or chopsticks or whatever else she’d have handy. Dressed in brightly colored dresses and baggy cardigans, she’d never be inconspicuous. She smelled of lavender and the sea and home, and I’d loved her with all my heart.
She’d become my guardian when Mom died of an overdose a couple of days after my fourteenth birthday, and only when I went to live with her, did I finally learn what having a mother was all about.
Aunt Mary Ellen and I would scavenge along the seashore, looking for shells and sea glass, while trying to spot any sea creatures hiding in the sand. There were long walks into the forest enclosing the town on all sides and cozy nights wrapped up in warm blankets as we sat on the deck overlooking the sea, drinking hot chocolate piled high with far too many mini marshmallows.
But most of all, and for the first time in my life, I’d been loved, unconditionally and unreservedly, and I’d cherished those feelings of happiness and acceptance with all I had.
Opening the door of the truck and hopping out, I grabbed my bag, pulled out my keys from the side pocket, and headed down the path. Unlocking the front door, the familiar scent of home greeted me. Inhaling deeply, I filled my lungs with the faint smell of her perfume and ever-present lavender, which I knew without checking hung in every room. Aunt Mary Ellen had loved the plant and made sure everybody knew about it.
I passed the bedrooms and walked down the hallway and through to the living area at the rear of the house, heading over to the sideboard where a photograph of us both took pride of place. Reverently lifting the frame, I absently wiped the dust off the glass and studied the image. Us, standing on the deck overlooking the sea, fairy lights strung along the railing, my arms around her, both of us laughing. The picture was our favorite, and as I stared at the two of us, my vision blurred as the reality of her death hit me hard.
She’s gone.
All the love and tenderness only she’d ever given me. Gone.
The hugs, time, and patience I didn’t deserve. Gone.
The one person ever to show me any affection and make me feel as if I could achieve anything I wanted and not be a total loss or waste of space was gone.
I kept staring until the picture turned fuzzy, and gentle fingers removed the frame from my grasp, placed the photograph carefully on the sideboard, and enfolded me in strong arms.
“We’re all so sorry,” Sawyer mumbled and held me until I cried myself out.
I was alone again. The same as always.
“Come on,” Sawyer encouraged me, turning me toward the sliders leading outside. “The bar can wait. Let’s go sit out on the deck.” He motioned to Cam. “There’s beer and chips in the cooler in Matilda.”
Cam grinned and disappeared down the hallway.
A few hours and a fair number of beers later, mellow and relaxed, we’d caught one another up on the last four years. Flynn had gone to college but returned after graduation. He’d become a full-time artist. Painting, ceramics, jewelry, recycled art—you name it. Pretty good, by all accounts, and beginning to make a name for himself on the scene, whatever that meant.
Cam had always loved working with his hands and had gone into a carpentry apprenticeship with old Mister Johanson. When he retired, Cam bought the business. In addition to kitchen and bathroom cabinetry, he made top quality furniture and was also getting attention through his website and word of mouth.
Sawyer had done what everyone suspected and become a mechanic. When I’d asked him if he’d ever thought about doing any other type of job, he’d given his usual lift of the shoulders and replied, “I was never good for nothing but mending cars.”
I’d evaded their questions with vague answers on what I did for a living, not wanting to be embarrassed after listening to their achievements, since being a full-time drifter wasn't exactly up there on the career ladder. I tried college but academia wasn’t for me, so I dropped out after my first semester. Not wanting to embarrass my aunt for being a failure had been the catalyst for me leaving Melrose Bay. Not that she’d have cared one jot what people thought, but I did.
Telling her friends I traveled around the country getting new life experiences was a far better story anyhow.
We drank and ate all afternoon. Later, after they’d gone and with arrangements to meet up tomorrow for dinner, I took my beer and sat hunched up on the steps leading down to the beach, letting the gentle roll of the waves welcome me home. The warm night air and distinctive scent of the sea provided a soothing balm to my aching soul.
A door opening on my left had me lifting my head to the beach house next door as a man stepped out onto the deck and headed to the railing, leaning his elbows on the wood, the light from the interior bathing him in a golden glow.
Tall, six two, possibly six three, his wide shoulders and broad back pulled at the material of the plain white T-shirt clinging to his body. The big arms filling the short sleeves had my blood pumping quicker in my veins. Black, or possibly navy, shorts sat low on his hips, the muscles of his strong legs shifting as he changed position.
Dark blond, mid-length hair, pushed back from his face, curled around his ear. The light sea breeze gently ruffled a few loose strands and had me itching to run my fingers through them to find out if they were as soft as they looked.
I shifted on the step, and the movement must have alerted him, as he chose that exact moment to snap his head my way. I held my breath when our eyes connected and had to grip the wood underneath me hard to ground myself as a jolt of awareness rippled along my skin.
His face, a lot clearer now as the glow from the house highlighted his profile, was stunning. Like Hollywood-actor stunning. Strong jaw, straight nose, and angled cheekbones were accentuated by the light. Pale eyes zeroed in on me like a laser freezing me to the spot. But it was his mouth that sent the butterflies fluttering in my belly. His lips were full, the top slimmer than the plump bottom one, and as if he instinctively knew exactly where my gaze had stuck, his tongue slipped out, gliding slowly over them, leaving them wet and glistening, the action holding all my attention. That was the only excuse I could think of for why it took a moment for the expression on his face to filter through my mind, allowing my brain to catch up to the situation.
Shock, followed by fear marred his features in the space of a few seconds. He inhaled sharply, his body tensing up. Then, turning abruptly, he shakily stumbled into his house, slamming the door hard behind him. A second later, I heard the turning of locks and the sound of drapes being pulled across the windows.
I sat there dazed, completely taken aback by his actions and abrupt departure. I’d done nothing to warrant his extreme response, so I had to wonder, what the hell had happened to cause such a drastic reaction?