Borrowed Sunshine (Hilton Head Island #2)

1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

WESTON

“ S pecial delivery,” called Darcy, my younger sister, her upbeat voice a grating contrast to my groggy mind. I heard the front door close with a thud, a firm reminder that I couldn’t avoid human interaction forever.

I was sitting on the edge of my bed, putting on my running shoes, when the sound of excited doggy toenails tap-danced down the hallway. Eeyore burst into the room. Eeyore, the small, fluffy black dog that Darcy and I shared, ran straight to me and flopped onto his back with an expectant look.

“What’s up, Pooch?” I said, giving his fur a good tousle. His tail thumped the floor, a sound that seemed to give marching orders to some of the heavy thoughts clogging up my mind .

I followed Eeyore to the kitchen, my movements sluggish, every step an effort. Darcy was already there, unpacking Eeyore’s things with her usual efficiency.

“Wow, Weston, you look terrible.” She eyed me with a blend of sisterly compassion and critical assessment.

“Thanks, sis, you look great too.” My attempt at humor felt hollow, even to me. Darcy, geared up in her workout clothes, looked ready to conquer the world, or at least the kickboxing class she was about to teach.

“You need to take better care of yourself, Weston. Are you even sleeping? Eating properly? Or just training yourself into the ground?” Her voice was stern, but beneath it, I heard the underlying concern.

I rubbed my hands over my face, feeling the stubble and the weight of too many restless nights. “Sleep’s been... elusive,” I admitted. “Nightmares about... never mind.”

Darcy’s expression softened. “About who? Dad? Jared? They were my family, too. It’s okay to say their names.”

I shrugged, avoiding her gaze. Talking about feelings was never my strong suit. “I’ll be fine. It’s nothing a run can’t fix.” But even as I said it, I knew it was a half-truth. Since my best friend Gray left town, silence had become a constant companion, amplifying the echoing thoughts I’d rather not face .

Eeyore licked my ankle; a plea for attention. I bent down and gave him a gentle pat.

Darcy watched me with a knowing look, but she didn’t push further. “I need to get to work. Here’s everything you’ll need for Eeyore today. Will you drop him at my place tonight?”

“Sure.”

After she left, Eeyore became a bouncing ball of fluff, his tail a blur. My warmup stretches turned into a game of dodge-the-licks and fend off-the-fuzzy-attacks.

When I was ready to hit the road, I lobbed his chew toy across the room. But he just sat there, staring at me with those big, pleading eyes.

“You know you can’t keep up with me, buddy,” I said, half-expecting him to understand. He tilted his head, as if considering my words, and then let out a tiny bark, full of determination.

We both knew I wouldn’t refuse him. “Alright, one lap around the block.” I grabbed his leash, much to his delight, and clipped it onto his collar.

Our “run” was more of a leisurely stroll, with Eeyore’s tiny legs moving a mile a minute, trying to keep up. I moved slowly, glancing down at him as he puffed along, his tongue lolling out in what I imagined was a doggy grin. Each passerby we met couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Taking a miniature fluff ball for a “run” was apparently a spectacle.

As we rounded the corner back to our starting point, Eeyore looked up at me, panting and proud. I scooped him up, his licks on my face almost made me smile... almost. “You’re quite the athlete, aren’t you?”

Back inside, I set Eeyore down, giving his fur a final ruffle. “Guard the house, champ. I’ll be back after a few more miles.” With that, I took off for my real run, feeling a little lighter.

Beads of sweat traced familiar tracks down my face as I jogged down the main street of my hometown, Hilton Head Island. Here, in this suburban paradise where the affluent reigned, everything appeared unblemished. Pristine lawns were rolled out like emerald carpets, and each house was a testament to luxury and order.

Following my usual route, I turned a corner and almost ran into a group of teenagers. A cloud of smoke hung over them, shifting and dancing with their laughter and animated movements. I kept my eyes fixed ahead as I moved around them. The sight of them, however, was too much like looking into a mirror of the past and seeing him. Jared. My younger cousin. The troubled soul I’d failed to save. He had also once laughed like that, full of life and reckless abandon .

I increased my pace, not willing to face the memories that haunted me. As usual, though, no matter how hard I pushed myself, the sights and sounds of that day, our first Ironman competition, flooded my mind. The adrenaline, the cheering crowd, and then...

Beep! The sharp, piercing sound of a car horn jolted me back to reality, just milliseconds before the vehicle’s bumper connected with my body. Oomph. The impact wasn’t enough to knock me off my feet, but it would certainly leave a bruise. My head spun.

I blinked, refocusing on my surroundings. The driver’s door of a cherry-red sedan flew open, and a middle-aged woman with frazzled blonde curls and wide, terrified eyes burst out. Her hands trembled as they flew to her mouth, her gaze darting between me and her car to see if either had been hurt.

“Are you okay? I didn’t see you—” she began, her voice quivering.

Before I could respond, a police officer, who had been directing traffic on the other side of the road, sprinted towards us. His face a mask of professional concern, his eyes quickly scanned the scene.

“Is everything alright here?” he asked.

“All good, officer,” I found myself saying. “It’s not a big deal. I just got distracted. ”

He raised an eyebrow, his gaze assessing. “Not a big deal? Sir, you ran in front of a moving vehicle.” The disbelief in his voice reflected the gravity of a situation I was still struggling to fully grasp.

“It wasn’t deliberate,” I explained, my voice steadier now. “I was focusing on those teens over there, and I just... didn’t see the car coming.”

The officer nodded, his expression softening slightly as he took in the full picture. “Has any damage been done? To you, sir? To your car, ma’am?

The woman from the sedan chimed in, her voice a high-pitched blend of stress and relief. “You’re lucky I wasn’t going fast, young man. One minute you were jogging on the pavement and the next you stepped in front of my car.” Then she focused on the officer. “But my car seems fine.”

Turning to me, the officer said, “Are you positive you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” I assured him, eager to escape the spotlight. “Can I continue with my run now?”

“If you’re both sure that no harm’s been done,” the officer conceded, “you can go on with your days. But please... please, exercise more caution in the future.”

“Thank you,” I said.

The officer gave a nod .

I turned to the woman. “I’m sorry if I caused you any distress, ma’am.”

“Nothing a sugary cup of tea can’t fix, sweetie, but please be careful on your way home.”

After a final apologetic wave to both the officer and driver, I pivoted on my heels and resumed my run. Gritting my teeth, I put one foot in front of the other, determined to complete my run without further incident.

Up ahead, I spotted Brenda, a friend of my mom’s from church. She was decked out in neon exercise gear, wielding tiny dumbbells with a fervor that bordered on comical. Her gray locks were cemented in place by an abundance of hairspray, her makeup as vivid as her outfit. I groaned inwardly.

I braced myself as she approached, waving a miniature dumbbell in greeting. Her smile was wide, but her eyes, sharp and perceptive, seemed to peer right through my carefully constructed facade. It was unsettling. I summoned a smile, hoping it read as genuine, praying she’d keep walking with just a wave and spare me one of her famous, wisdom-filled heart-to-hearts that I so desperately wanted to avoid. But Brenda, being Brenda, stopped right in front of me, her dumbbells swinging gently at her sides .

“Weston, dear!” she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with more pep than a cheerleader on double espresso. “How’s my favorite triathlete?”

“Hey, Brenda,” I said softly. “I’m just a part-time triathlete, remember?” Then, not knowing what else to say, I continued, “You’re looking... colorful today.”

She laughed. “Oh, Weston. You’re such a charmer. How have you been?”

“Can’t complain,” I replied, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other, hoping she hadn’t witnessed the last fifteen minutes. “And yourself?”

Brenda set down her dumbbells as if she needed a respite from their minuscule weight, her face suddenly serious. “Actually, I’ve been better. The washing machine at the campgrounds is acting up. It’s throwing everyone into a tizz, and the repair guy can only come by on Thursday. That’s why I’m out here, trying to walk off the stress.”

We stood there for a moment, an awkward silence hanging between us. I wanted to ignore the inner nudge to help. But the rational part of my brain also knew that having something to do with my hands would help get me out of my head for a while. So, I offered my assistance. “Do you need help? I could take a look at it if you like. I can’t promise anything, but I reckon I know my way around most appliances.”

Her eyes widened, and she gave me one of her winning smiles. “Would you? That would be wonderful.”

I nodded. “Sure. I’ll come by after my run.”

As I turned to leave, Brenda’s voice stopped me. “Weston,” she said, a strange urgency in her tone. “We need to have tea, lots to catch up on.”

I frowned. This wasn’t the first time she’d mentioned this. “Okay…?” I said, trying to sound neutral but feeling confused. The idea of a tea appointment with Brenda was far from appealing. Honestly, I’d be perfectly fine if it never happened. But I couldn’t bring myself to say that to her.

Before I could process my next move, Brenda stepped forward and patted my cheek like I was a kid, not a twenty-six-year-old man. I clenched my jaw, resisting the urge to pull away.

“Great, we’ll meet up when the time is right,” she said. With that, she whisked up her dumbbells and waddled away.