Chapter 2
October
Boone Harding took a deep breath as he stepped out into the bustling streets of Myrtlewood Bay.
This was what he missed most while he was overseas.
You don’t get refreshing breezes in the desert, he thought.
No, instead of stinging sand and gunpowder, the breeze blowing down the lanes brought the salty scent of the sea, tinged with smoked meats and spruce trees.
It had been a long while since he had felt so at peace. What could be better than the Oregon coast?
“Boone, you still there? You’ve seriously gotta help me, man. Send a damn rescue squad to Florida if you have to.”
Boone jumped, almost dropping his phone as his best friend’s voice blasted through the speaker. Of course, the daydream had to come to an end at some point. You don’t simply ignore Patrick McGowan.
“What happened now?” Boone pulled the door shut behind him, fishing for his keys. “You didn’t get another call about a poor, little squirrel stuck on top of a telephone pole, did you? Or wait, was it about the duck who wasn’t quacking again?”
“No, and thank fuck for that.” Patrick groaned. “I don’t think my sanity could handle one of those calls this week. People call the police for the weirdest stuff sometimes.”
Boone snorted, twisting his keys in the lock. “So, what happened?”
“You know, parties, alcohol, teenagers,” Patrick’s voice shuddered, “and their parents.”
“Okay? Teenagers like to party. What did you expect when you settled in Florida?” Boone twisted the knob, making sure the door was secure before he pocketed his keys. “And what’s so bad about the parents?”
“Let’s just say that many of them explicitly announced, in front of their spouses and a couple dozen teens, mind you, that they wouldn’t mind getting cuffed by the big, beefy police officer.”
Boone cackled, dodging a few people on the sidewalk. Myrtlewood Bay was a bit more crowded than he remembered, but fall was in full swing, and with it came the tourists, eager to experience Myrtlewood Bay’s small-town, coastal charms.
“Don’t you fucking laugh at me. The parents are worse than the teens when it comes to parties gone out of control. Who do you think supplies the booze?” Patrick growled. “You’d think that twenty years in the army would’ve prepared me for Florida. You’d be wrong.”
“I remember you really liked that retirement party our unit threw you,” Boone said, voice full of amusement.
“That was different. Hard work paid off, and all that jazz.” Patrick scoffed, trying to hide a laugh.
“Boone, listen to me. Parties are insane here in Florida. The parties I had in high school? Nothing compared to these.” Patrick took a deep breath.
“Hell, the closest thing I had to a wild party was Sophomore year when Rusty Barnes tried to launch fireworks from his dick and ended up setting the Hortons’ hay shed on fire. ”
“Poor country boy,” Boone said, tsking.
A beep sounded on Patrick’s end of the phone, and a door clicked faintly in the background. “Home sweet home.“ He let out a groan. “But compared to the calls I get now? I would kill to deal with calls like that. Rusty was a legend, damn it.”
“So, I guess you can’t wait to get here, huh?
You’re going to love living in Myrtlewood Bay.
” Boone couldn’t stop the smile that played at the corners of his lips.
Patrick may act all big and tough, but he was a homegrown, small-town boy at heart.
He was also Boone’s best friend, and Boone needed him close.
“Definitely. I swear, they’re delaying my transfer on purpose. I think I pissed off the big guys somehow.” Patrick sighed. “Please tell me Myrtlewood Bay is just as quiet and peaceful as it was when I visited last time.”
Boone let out a chuckle as he surveyed the streets around him.
Since his arrival back in town, he’d been up and down the old streets, heading down memory lane.
Reverend Wilson still headed the historic church down at the end of Huckleberry Lane.
The same two mom-and-pop seafood restaurants sat at opposite sides of the docks.
Even Grimes’ old general store still chugged along.
“Talk to me, man. If I get there and everything’s gone to shit, I’m gonna have to move back to my hometown, and that will really piss me off,” Patrick grumbled under his breath. “Myrtlewood Bay doesn’t have my parents.”
It was just as Patrick had hoped. The town hadn’t changed much in the past four years since Patrick had come home with him for Christmas.
“Come on, peckerhead. Tell me before I blow a gasket,” Patrick growled.
Boone snorted. “Don’t worry. If it weren’t for the occasional new neighbor, you’d think time never touched this place.”
“I knew it.” Patrick laughed. “Tell me, is that ancient barber’s shop over on Glory Avenue still open, too? I could use a good haircut when I get there.”
“I don’t think Ignacio will ever leave that place behind.” Boone ran a hand through his hair, his short, blond locks warm from the bright sunshine overhead. “Hell, when he dies, he’ll probably haunt the place and still offer trims.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Patrick said. “Same with Grimes and his general store. Shit, man, I can still feel that old man’s cane on my shins.”
“You deserved it.” Boone snickered. “You were being a dick.”
“How was I to know that Grimes is a big beer snob. All I said was that I liked dark and bitter beers. He didn’t have to assault me until I agreed with him that pale ale is better.
He made me lie, Boone. Master Sergeant in the army and a seventy-year-old man scares the shit out of me. Embarrassing as fuck.”
“Maybe if you had listened to me, you wouldn’t have ended up with purple legs for Christmas.
” Boone’s gaze drifted across the faded painted letters decorating the passing shop windows, waving as the owners inside recognized him.
“When you get here, should we stop by and talk beer with Grimes, Mr. Sheriff’s Deputy?
He can’t beat your ass if you’re the law and order, right? ”
“I don’t think that’s how it works.” Patrick chuckled. “I have a feeling Grimes does exactly as he pleases, no matter what. Having the town’s golden boy as a friend might help, though.”
Boone perked his head up as he noticed a familiar couple heading toward him. In a small town, anyone living within sight of your house was a neighbor, and Cory and Briella Cooper had been his down-the-road neighbors for as long as he could remember.
He raised his hand, waving with a huge smile on his face. “Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Cooper. How are you?”
Cory and Briella looked up, but the smiles on their faces disappeared as quickly as they had appeared. Briella’s eyes stayed fixed on Boone’s face while Cory stared at Boone’s leg as he limped toward them.
With brisk nods and hurried well-wishes, they quickly scurried away, disappearing into the crowds on the sidewalk.
Boone stood in silence, staring at the place where they disappeared.
Pain curled in his stomach at the now familiar reactions, but he quickly shrugged it off as best he could.
He hadn’t thought his scars were so bad until he’d gotten back to town.
To him, his face was just a face, and a little limp wasn’t a big deal.
To the people who had known him as a kid, he was ruined.
Not the golden boy anymore, he thought.
“You okay, man?”
“Yeah, yeah. Just admiring all the old places I used to visit.” Boone let out a low sigh and forced a smile even though he knew Patrick couldn’t see him. “Anyway, you gonna sign up for my self-defense classes when you get here? I could always use an extra hand on my side.”
“I take it that means the classes are doing well?”
“Absolutely. Just finished up the morning classes, and I’m heading to Wilma-Jean’s for a quick bite.”
“Ain’t nothing quick about going to Wilma-Jean’s.” Patrick snorted. “She’ll talk your ear off soon as she’ll fill up your plate again.”
Boone smirked. “Aww, you miss her, don’t you?”
“Hell yeah, I do.” Patrick agreed. “Real food after years of the crap I ate? You bet your happy ass I’ll be stopping by Wilma’s Port before I come to see you.”
“You know what? That’s totally understandable. I won’t stand between you and Wilma’s cooking.” Boone nodded. “When are you supposed to be coming in?”
“Not for a while. Remember, transfers and all that shit. You know how well that goes.” Patrick let out a frustrated groan before a long moment of silence passed between the friends.
“Got me thinking about ol’ Wilma-Jean’s place now.
I can’t wait to get there and get me some of her Dungeness crab cakes. ”
“I’m sure she’ll be tickled to see you again,” Boone said.
“Oh, by the way,” Patrick’s voice perked up, “is that weird haunted house still standing, too? I swear we need to sneak in this time. It’s creepy as hell.”
“Dahlia’s place.” Boone grimaced. “It’s still there, but the owner passed away a few months ago, back in June. Cancer.”
“You knew her, didn’t you? I’m sorry, man.”
“Yeah, it’s a damn shame. Myrtlewood Bay isn't gonna be the same without her.” Boone slowed his pace.
Her mark on this town was nothing short of amazing.
Town gossip said she’d lived in Portland the last five years, but everyone still felt her influence in the sturdy town library she built and the local businesses she’d invested in.
“What’s gonna happen to the place? You said it was a huge part of the town when you were growing up, and sure, it looks creepy all boarded up, but it had a beauty to it. You know? It’d suck to high hell if it were left to crumble.” Patrick’s voice trailed off.
Boone let out a long sigh. “I don’t know. No one goes out there anymore since she moved. I suppose it’ll either go on auction or pass down to her nephew, Milo.”
“Milo? Wasn’t he a friend of that omega you talked about all the damn time?” Patrick hummed under his breath. “They sounded like an interesting lot, but their names are slipping my mind now. I can’t seem to recall them. What were they again?”