Chapter 2
Chapter Two
The beach was quieter in the mornings, before the umbrellas bloomed and the residents and occasional tourist staked their claims.
Blaise liked it quiet. She liked the shoreline unblemished, before the flat, pale sand was marked with footprints that would be erased again by evening. She loved how the Gulf stretched out in soft bands of blue-green and the waves rolled in, leaving delicate lacy trails of froth in their wake.
She walked barefoot at the edge of the water, where the sand was cool and packed just right, Beau trotting a few feet ahead with his nose down and his tail up, already deeply invested in whatever mysteries the tide might have delivered overnight.
Brick walked on her other side, close enough that their arms brushed now and then. He wore a faded T-shirt and old cargo shorts, his stride easy but deliberate, like a man who had places to go and things to do. Even if he didn’t.
She was glad he’d agreed to come along on the walk this morning. She thought it would be good for him to get some fresh air and have a change of scenery from the hospital.
Blaise breathed in deeply, letting the salt and sun center her for the day ahead. Mornings were when her mind was clearest. And, unfortunately, when it was hardest to avoid thinking about all that was going on.
“How’s Holland doing?” she asked.
Brick didn’t answer right away. He watched Beau as the dog skidded to a stop and barked at a retreating wave.
“Better,” Brick said at last. “At least, that’s what they tell me.”
Blaise glanced over. Brick’s expression was neutral, but she’d learned to read the small tells. The way his jaw tightened. The way he squinted slightly, as if something ahead of them required extra scrutiny.
“And what do you think?” she asked. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with him.”
Brick exhaled a quiet breath. “I think ‘better’ is relative. They’ve got him up and moving. Physical therapy’s pushing him, too. Which he hates. I suppose that’s a good sign.”
“It is,” Blaise said gently. “Hating physical therapy usually means you’re ready to get back to your life.”
“That’s what the therapist said.” Brick’s mouth curved faintly. “Holland told her she was a sadist.”
Blaise smiled. “That sounds like something you’d say.”
Brick nodded. “Suppose it does. He’s frustrated. He wants to be farther along than he is. He wants to be done with all of this and get back to his usual routine. I get that.”
“So do I,” Blaise said.
Brick looked at her then, a question in his eyes.
She shrugged lightly. “Different circumstances, same feeling. Waking up one day and realizing your body, or your life, or your mind isn’t cooperating with what you think it should be doing. That’s hard.”
Brick nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
They walked in silence for a few beats, the surf whispering in and out, the gulls chasing the water.
“I’m trying not to hover,” Brick said. “But it’s hard. He’s my kid. And I wasn’t there when it happened.”
“You were there as quickly as you could be. And you’re with him now,” Blaise said. “That’s just as important.”
“I know.” Brick exhaled. “Just wish I could do more.”
Blaise reached out and squeezed his hand briefly. Brick’s fingers curled around hers automatically, like it was muscle memory already.
Beau came bounding back, damp and sandy, and shook himself violently, spraying them both.
“Hey,” Blaise protested, laughing as she brushed sand from her leg. “That was rude.”
Brick laughed, too, a real one, and shook his head at her. “That’s your fault. You encouraged him.”
“I did no such thing.”
“You told him he was handsome yesterday.”
“Well, he is,” Blaise said, crouching to rub Beau’s ears. “And clearly feeling full of himself.”
Beau leaned into her touch, obviously unrepentant.
They resumed walking, falling into the same rhythm.
“So,” Brick said with what sounded like deliberate casualness. “You’ve been busy.”
Blaise gave a weary nod. “That’s one way to put it.”
“What’s another?”
“Slightly freaked out,” she said. “Although also occasionally optimistic. And frequently annoyed with myself.”
Brick chuckled. “Sounds productive.”
She sighed. “I’m writing the book I’m trying to sell. My memoirs.”
“I figured.”
Blaise shot him a look. “You did?” She’d mentioned it to him, but she hadn’t said anything recently.
He shrugged. “You get this look. Like your mind is elsewhere. And you mutter.”
“I do not mutter.”
“You mutter.”
Blaise laughed despite herself. “Fine. Maybe a little.”
They walked on, Beau winding in front of them like he was mapping the beach for future trips.
“Well, you know I’ve been making inquiries,” she continued. “To various publishers. Cece’s been such a help.”
“She’s nice,” Brick said. A high compliment.
“She’s great,” Blaise said. “And she knows how much I need this.”
“No responses yet?”
“I only sent out a group of query emails the other week,” Blaise said. “It’s probably too soon to have heard anything back yet.”
“You will.”
“I hope so.” Blaise looked out at the water. A pelican skimmed the surface, wings outstretched, impossibly graceful. “It’s a little scary,” she admitted. “I don’t mean about getting published. About writing it at all.”
Brick nodded but stayed silent.
“When I write it,” Blaise said. “I have to relive things I shelved a long time ago. Decisions I made. Things I decided to ignore. Events that I shouldn’t have had to endure. It’s not easy going through all that again.”
Brick’s voice was quiet. “That’s what happens when you tell the truth.”
“Yes,” Blaise said. “And it’s even harder to do when I’m not sure yet whether anyone’s even going to care.”
“They will.”
They walked slower now, their feet sinking slightly deeper into the sand.
“What made you start this?” Brick asked.
Blaise hesitated, but it wasn’t anything he didn’t already know.
“Money, pure and simple. That sounds awful, but I could really use some.” Then she added, “I’m tired of being careful all the time.
Checking prices, sticking to my budget. Having to cut corners when something comes up.
Having to think about money all the time.
Worse, having Evan worry about me like I’m a child that needs taking care of. ”
Brick grunted. “I get that. Money is a necessary evil. Although having it doesn’t mean instant happiness.”
“I know that.” Blaise exhaled a quiet breath. “But losing it? That was almost as bad as losing Jay.”
Brick glanced at her but didn’t interrupt.
“I still hate admitting how it happened,” she said.
“I trusted the wrong person at the wrong time, and it cost me most of what we’d saved.
The worst part was feeling like I’d let Jay down.
” She shrugged, trying to shake off the embarrassment of it all.
Her late husband had done such good things with their money.
Only for her to lose it to a scammer. “That’s a hard sentence to say out loud. ”
Brick was quiet for a moment, the sound of the surf carrying the silence.
“That kind of thing carries a lot of unnecessary shame,” he said finally. “Mostly because people don’t like to admit it could happen to them, too.”
Blaise nodded. “Very true. Which doesn’t make it any easier.”
They walked on, the silence returning for a few minutes.
“I’m not just writing the memoir because of the money,” Blaise said, feeling the need to clarify. “I’m writing it because maybe telling that part of my story will keep it from happening to someone else. And because I need the income.” She glanced at him. “I can’t pretend that part doesn’t matter.”
Brick’s mouth curved slightly. “Nothing wrong with that.”
“If a publisher wants it, great,” she went on. “If they don’t, Cece’s offered to help me get it out there myself. Either way, the book’s getting finished.”
“That sounds like a plan,” Brick said.
“It is.” Blaise paused, then added, “I just don’t love that money is the thing pushing me.”
Brick shook his head. “Money isn’t pushing you. Reality is.”
She considered that. Then she nodded. “That’s a better way of looking at it.”
They turned back toward the Colony, the quiet morning gone as more people showed up to claim spots on the beach.
Blaise glanced down at Beau, who had finally tired himself out and was trotting along contentedly, tongue lolling.
“I’ll get there,” she said, mostly to herself. “With the writing. Just not sure how long it’s going to take.”
Brick bumped her shoulder lightly. “It’ll take as long as it takes.”
She smiled. That was so Brick.
As they left the Gulf behind them, Blaise was already organizing her thoughts. What she’d write next, what she’d leave for later in the book so she could build up to it, and the stories that felt the most important. The ones she really wanted to tell.
This book might not solve all of her money problems, but it would help her feel less ashamed about what had happened. It was putting the power back into her own hands.
That was a good feeling. One she really needed to feel.
Especially since she and Cece were recording the first episode of Cece’s new podcast today.