7. Chapter 7
Chapter 7
WESTON
E very Tuesday, I worked from home, but not today. Today, Rebecca’s presence permeated the whole of Gray’s property. So I escaped to the beach café for a coffee. My dad’s birthday always drained me of energy and now I had Rebecca to deal with as well. I hoped to clear my mind in a neutral space, so I spent some time reading my Bible and praying. Today it just brought more questions than answers, though. Here I was hoping just the discipline of having read the Word would bring some calm, because I’d need all the calm I could get if I was to survive two weeks with Rebecca next door.
If Darcy were here, she’d tease me about avoiding Rebecca. She never understood why I wasn’t out there, gathering friends or hunting for a wife. But then, she hadn’t been weighed down by our father’s legacy or wracked with guilt over our cousin’s passing. Those weights were mine alone.
When my dad had died in a car accident, I’d clung to the belief that God was watching over me, that He knew my limits. Yet, only a few years later, my world was shattered again by Jared’s death. It felt like a cruel joke, a test of faith where the odds were unfairly stacked against me.
I’d always known life wasn’t a smooth ride, but this... I grappled with questions, anger boiling inside me. Wasn’t my heart already wrung dry from mourning my dad? Why did God, in His infinite wisdom, think I could endure more?
I remember staring at the ceiling one night, shortly after Jared’s funeral, the surrounding darkness a mirror to the void inside. “Why?” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Why me, God? Why now?” The silence that followed was deafening, the absence of an answer more profound than any words.
In that moment, a bitter realization crept in. Maybe God was in control, but He wasn’t going to shield me from every hurt. I had to make a choice—to keep trusting Him blindly or take the reins of my life firmly in my own hands. I couldn’t bear the thought of being this vulnerable again, dependent on a plan I couldn’t see or understand.
So, I made a vow to myself in the depths of that despair: I would never allow myself to be that helpless again. My plan was simple. Stay single and don’t make new friends. I would never depend on anyone—not even God—to keep me from falling.
I took another sip of my coffee, welcoming the bitter taste. My gaze wandered out the window just in time to catch Rebecca strolling past in a striking blue bikini. How could someone so annoying be so breathtakingly beautiful? I shook my head, trying to focus on the day ahead. I planned to visit Dad’s gravestone before heading to the office. Plus, Josh had officially ditched me regarding the race. I’d have to ask around and see if someone else could help.
Finishing my coffee, I stood up, the ceramic cup clattering slightly as I set it down. Weaving through the tables dotted around the room, I opened the door to leave, the bell dangling above it alerting everyone to my exit.
Despite my resolve to move on with my day, my gaze involuntarily swept the beach, halting on a scene unfolding that I couldn’t overlook. Rebecca was stretched out on a towel, and a persistent guy was in her space, while she shook her head, clearly uncomfortable.
Even with our past disagreements, I couldn’t just walk away. My strides quickened as I approached them. Rebecca seemed flustered.
“Hey, is there a problem here?” I asked, my tone even but firm.
The man looked up, defiance flashing in his eyes. I expected that from him. What I didn’t expect was Rebecca’s response. “Weston, it’s fine. I can handle it,” she said. Her voice sounded equal parts uncertain and irritated.
I raised an eyebrow, now unsure if I read the situation right. “Do you want him to leave?” I directed the question to her, giving her the control.
With a reluctant sigh, she nodded. “Yes.”
I addressed the man with a cool, steady gaze. “She’s asked you to leave. Let’s keep it friendly and move on, alright?” The man scoffed but finally walked away, muttering under his breath.
With that, Rebecca sat up and faced the ocean. When I lingered, she twisted, looking up at me with those big, challenging eyes. “I would’ve been fine,” she said. “What are you doing here, anyway? Who made you the beach police? ”
Taken aback by this confrontational side of her, I took a moment to answer. I shrugged. “No one. I’m just looking out for you. Hilton Head is a safe place, but every town has its creeps.”
She brushed off my concern with an airy flick of her wrist, her eyes sparkling with defiance. “Well, I didn’t ask for your help. Maybe I enjoy receiving attention from guys. I’m here to soak up some sun, and with families around, I think I can handle a little attention .”
I sighed, frustration warring with my desire to protect her. “Is that really the kind of attention you want, Rebecca? You deserve better than leering glances from creeps.” I should have just left, but there was a certain vulnerability in her eyes that compelled me to speak.
Rebecca appeared to process my words. I watched a flicker of contemplation dance across her features before she defiantly shook her head and lay down on her towel again. “I won’t let you spoil my holiday. Please stop trying to make me miserable. I have enough on my plate,” she said to my feet, her voice carrying a hint of what seemed like sadness. Odd.
I stood there, perplexed by this raw side of her. Had I ever seen her appear sad? I didn’t have more time to process this change because a young voice called out .
“Hey, Uncle Weston. Want to build a sandcastle with me?” I looked over to see Seth running toward us. His mom had died of cancer last year, and his dad had abandoned them years ago, so I tried to be a good male role model for him. Losing my dad as a teen was bad enough. I could only imagine how he felt.
“Not right now, buddy. Where’s your gran?” I asked, trying to redirect his energy.
“She’s over there,” he pointed, then his brow furrowed. “But you don’t look busy.”
Before I could respond, Rebecca touched my leg. “It’s okay. I’ll put on my beach dress and help him.” Then she turned to Seth. “I know I’m not as fun as Weston, but I could help you build a sandcastle if your gran says it’s okay.”
Gone was her apparent sadness and irritation. In its place, she wore the peppy mask I knew so well. I almost missed the irritated version of her because it seemed real. Argh. I didn’t need this. Fake Rebecca was better for my plans.
“Okay, I’ll ask my gran. Will you help, too?” Seth asked while tugging on my arm.
I looked at Seth and inwardly berated myself for being so distracted by Rebecca. At least with Seth and his gran nearby, she’d avoid any more trouble. But I hadn’t avoided the effect of being around her. All the calm I had gained in the coffee shop had vanished. I needed to claw it back. So, I focused on Seth.
“Hey bud, I have to get back to work soon. But I can build a small sandcastle with you.”
“Okay. Or how about we bury your friend?”
I didn’t classify Rebecca as my friend, so I didn’t realize who he was referring to. “Which friend?”
“Her, silly,” Seth replied.
I smirked. Rebecca would hate getting her pretty self covered in sand from head to toe. “Great idea, Seth,” I said and turned to Rebecca, expecting a look of horror.
Instead, she appeared delighted. “Sure, little guy. I’ve always wanted to just be a floating head on the sand. Come, I’ll help dig the hole since we don’t have a lot of time.”