Chapter 7Stella
Chapter Seven
Stella
I leaned against the wall of the Big House’s garage, anxiously scanning the driveway that cut through the lush tropical foliage. With every rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze, I hoped it would be Hunter’s car stirring them into motion.
Today was more than just a family lunch—it was a bridge to start healing old wounds. The ache for reconciliation clung to me. Two brothers who had once been inseparable and were now completely at odds.
The purring sound of an engine announced his arrival. A sleek black Range Rover navigated the final bend and came to a smooth stop in front of the garage. My heart skipped a beat, nervous anticipation making me wipe a sweaty palm on my skirt.
Hunter stepped out, clad from head to toe in black. Black jeans molded to his long legs, and a black button-down shirt framed his broad shoulders and bulging arms. No matter how many times I saw him, I had to remind myself that this shadowy apparition with eyes that were always assessing, searching, was the sweet, shy brother I’d grown up with. In some ways, anyway. In others, he couldn’t be more different.
“Is black the only color in your wardrobe these days?” I teased lightly, trying to ease the weight of the moment as I approached him.
“Keeps things simple.” A ghost of a smile touched his lips. Hunter’s eyes, though, held stories that were anything but simple. They were hooded, guarding his thoughts. By far the tallest of the Markham men, Hunter’s dark beard was trimmed short and neat. The tips of tattoos snaked toward his elbows beneath his short sleeves. More ink was exposed at his open collar.
“Still the man of mystery, I see.” I reached up to wrap my arms around him.
He returned the embrace, his strong arms encircling me. “Good to see you, Stella.”
“Good? I was aiming for great.” I pulled back to look at him. But beneath the light-hearted banter, I could sense the steel he had honed as a Marine. He might not show it, but coming home to this island, with its tangled roots and complex histories, had to stir him inside.
“Great, then.” His voice was deep yet smooth, and a genuine smile reached his eyes now. It transformed him, softening the edges that time and distance had sharpened. Hunter and I had always been close, and I’d taken pains to make sure we stayed that way through his estrangement. He let his guard down with me, and that meant a lot.
“Come on—let’s get inside. Everyone’s waiting.” I slipped my arm around his elbow as we started toward the house.
“Everyone?” he asked, a hint of tension threading his voice.
“Yes. Everyone.” I gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. Though I wasn’t sure if it helped—his bicep felt like squeezing a lead pipe. “It’s time to mend fences and build new memories. Calypso Key is still your home.”
He nodded, squaring his shoulders. The bookish little brother I once knew was long gone, replaced by this towering mountain of muscle who had faced down his own abyss. More than one. Yet I could still see glimpses of the boy who used to chuck rocks from the top of the bluff with me.
We walked along the cement walkway to the front of the house. As we approached the landing, the front door swung open, and our grandmother, Nona, emerged. She’d swapped her usual Western wear for a more formal skirt and long-sleeved shirt, her white hair twisted up with a grace that defied her years. Her sharp eyes grew glassy at the sight of Hunter.
“Nona,” Hunter breathed out, the single word echoing both joy and regret. He stepped forward and enveloped her petite frame in his expansive arms, dwarfing her. Yet his embrace was gentle, cautious—as if he were holding something precious and fragile.
“Oh, Hunter, my boy…” Nona’s usually whip-solid voice wavered. “I missed you at the wedding.”
He offered a tight laugh, a shadow flitting across his face. “That’s probably for the best. It wasn’t my finest moment. Or Evan’s.”
I watched the exchange, blinking tears back. Then I took a step backward to let them lead the way inside. The threshold of the Big House felt like a border between past and present, and watching Hunter cross it brought a swell of hope to my heart. Maybe this time, things could be different.
We moved down the hall toward the kitchen, the center of our family’s universe, where the murmur of voices grew louder with each step. When Hunter appeared at the doorway, the sounds hushed as if the ocean itself had pulled back before building into a wave.
“Son,” Dad said, striding forward. His warm, strong voice was the first to break the silence. He wrapped Hunter in an embrace that seemed to pull him back through the years, back to when he eased scraped knees and sunburns. The resemblance between the two men was striking, though Gabe was the dead ringer for Dad. Warren Markham was a fit man in his mid-sixties, his body bearing the evidence of a life lived outdoors, of boat lines pulled and fish wrangled alongside Gabe and me. Pulling back, he clasped Hunter’s shoulders, his eyes not shying from the man his son had become. “Welcome home.”
Hunter maintained his poker face—one I knew all too well—but the frantic pulse beating at his throat betrayed him. I caught his eye and offered a silent nod of solidarity.
Maia came next, her own hug enveloping Hunter with an affection that seemed to thaw the chill of his absence. Next to her, her husband, Wyatt, shook his hand and shot my brother a somewhat awkward smile. He swept back his trimmed light-brown hair and nodded.
“You and Wyatt didn’t get to meet at the wedding,” Maia said with a smile. “And Skye’s with a babysitter. You’ll see her soon.” Maia and I had decided it might be better for Skye to stay out of this initial reunion in case things didn’t go as we hoped.
Then it was Gabe and April’s turn. Hunter stared at them, his feet rooted to the spot. “I’m… I’m sorry about your wedding,”
April stepped forward and grasped both of his arms. Her eyes were warm and caring as she stared up into his. “You’ve already told us that, so no more apologizing! You didn’t ruin anything, and we’re so glad to see you again.”
After giving her a shaky smile, Hunter turned his gaze to Gabe, who agreed with his wife and gave Hunter a hug of his own. The two men, so alike, embraced in the reunion that Hunter had undoubtedly wished for at Gabe and April’s wedding. His hand lingered on Gabe’s back a long moment before he stepped back and let it fall to his side.
At last, Hunter’s eyes settled on the far side of the table.
Where Evan stood stiffly with Liv beside him, her hand resting on his tension-wrought shoulder. The tableau was fraught with the weight of unspoken words, and memories best forgotten yet never able to be erased. Evan looked planted on the wooden floor, unable to move, so Hunter walked casually around the table to stop before him.
“Hi, Evan.” Hunter’s voice was steady, but his weight balanced evenly on the balls of his feet .
“Hey,” Evan returned, equally terse. Their gazes locked, a silent conversation in a glance. I held my breath, along with everyone else in the room. Liv slowly moved her hand to press against the small of Evan’s back. Then, firmly, deliberately, Evan extended his hand. “Good to see you, Hunter.”
As the two brothers shook hands—albeit a stiff, formal handshake—the sharp edge of tension around the room lessened. The air was still quiet, but the invisible currents moved more freely. I watched the two of them, these pillars of my world, each trying to navigate the space between what was and what could be. Hunter exchanged a somewhat shy greeting with Liv, who was sweet and polite, trying to balance being supportive of Evan while welcoming Hunter.
Turning his focus back to Evan, Hunter slid his hands into his back pockets. “You look good.”
Evan stiffened even more. “Were you expecting—” He broke off when Liv softly pressed against his side and stroked his arm. “Thanks. So do you.”
Hunter’s nod was even more rigid, but his expression was cool, unruffled.
“Let’s eat,” I suggested, rallying my troops with practiced cheerfulness. Raising my head toward the other end of the kitchen, I called out, “Martin? I think we’re ready to start.”
Martin was a chef at Dorado, one of several who rotated to cook meals at the Big House, and had been with us a long time. He had outdone himself with this family lunch, knowing the weight of the moment. I hadn’t discussed the menu with him, trusting his judgment. And I wasn’t disappointed.
“All right, everyone,” the chef announced in his Caribbean accent as he crossed the room, balancing platters of aromatic food that immediately drew our attention. His white smile lit his face. “Hope you’re hungry.”
No fancy entrees here. Martin had made comfort food, designed to make eaters feel welcome and relaxed. The smell of rosemary and garlic filled the air as the chef set down dish after dish—roasted chicken glistening under a golden-brown skin, a kaleidoscope of grilled vegetables sizzling in their own juices, and a mountain of fluffy mashed potatoes crowned with melting pats of butter.
“Smells amazing!” My experienced eye favorably evaluated the spread as my stomach seconded the motion with an audible growl.
“Thank you, Stella. Enjoy, everyone.” Martin disappeared through the back hallway where we kept the kitchen staples.
I took charge, reaching for serving spoons and passing plates that everyone took generous helpings from. The clinking of silverware and the quiet murmur of appreciation for the food provided a comfortable backdrop to relieve some of the underlying tension.
“Can’t beat a home-cooked meal,” Dad said, his voice a deep timbre that resonated with authority and warmth. He sat at one head of the table, while Nona graced the other. Evan and Hunter sat as far apart as possible, which was probably a good thing given the circumstances.
“Definitely different than I’m used to,” Hunter agreed, digging into his plate as if he hadn’t eaten for days. As worried as he’d been about this lunch, maybe he hadn’t.
“Everything’s delicious.” Evan’s words carried the weight of effort, like each syllable was a stone he had to lift. “Martin always does a great job.”
I watched as Hunter paused in his eating, catching Evan’s eye across the table. There was a flicker of something—regret, perhaps, or the beginning of understanding. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared, hidden once again behind his stoic fa?ade.
“Guess we have to thank Stella for bringing you back into town,” Maia piped up with a teasing grin, breaking through the momentary stillness.
“She’s like that pebble in your shoe,” Hunter responded, the barest hint of a smile in his eyes. “As much as you try to ignore it, eventually you can’t anymore.”
I burst into laughter and punched him in the arm. Pretty sure it hurt my hand more than him .
“Here’s to family.” Gabe raised his glass, prompting us all to follow suit.
“Family,” we echoed, and the word seemed to hang there, full of promise and pain in equal measure.
“Stella, is it nice only having one job again?” Liv asked brightly from Evan’s side, clearly attempting to lighten the mood.
“Oh, yes. Driving between here and Key West every day was getting pretty old. And I have to thank Evan for bringing me back home.” I held up my glass to him, but in true Evan-like fashion, he just blushed and touched his mouth with his napkin.
“You more than earned the job, Stel,” he said quietly.
“And now Calypso Key has the best dive staff and the best chef in the keys,” Maia chimed in, her eyes meeting mine with an unspoken understanding that we both needed this normalcy—even if it was thin as ice.
But the comfort food could only do so much. Hunter hardly dared to raise his head from his plate. I could feel the tension coiling around us, a silent serpent waiting to strike. Because though several family members had come home once more, Hunter had no place here. Evan coughed, an echo of discomfort that traveled through the room.
“My new orchids are really settling in,” I commented hastily, trying to right the sinking ship. “They look like they’ve been there for years.”
“You always had a green thumb,” Dad noted, his voice a bridge over troubled water. “You take after your mother that way.” But the undercurrents were there, palpable and anxious. He turned to his eldest son and gave Gabe a wide smile. “And now Calypso Key is doing better than ever. I’m sure your mother is smiling down on us. We can all celebrate right now and next weekend too.”
“Oh, that’s right!” Maia turned toward me. I knew that look, the one that meant business mixed with a touch of familial duty. “Evan and I have nearly everything ready for the festival, but I need a hand with a few things. Stella, could you help organize coverage for the medical tent? I think you’re the right person for that job.” She arched an eyebrow at me, and I silently asked myself why I had confided in her after meeting Aiden at his clinic.
“Of course I’d be happy to help.” I’d completely forgotten about our annual Sea and Sun Festival, a Calypso Key staple that Maia had taken the reins of. I tried to reconcile the side of me that wanted to see Aiden again with the one wanting to stay as far away as possible.
“Thanks,” Maia replied, lifting her glass in a toast. “We want to make sure everyone stays safe while having fun.”
“Always a priority,” I agreed.
“Medical tent?” Hunter asked, his brow furrowing slightly. “Have the festivities gotten that wild?”
“No. Sometimes the heat gets to people, or there’s too much sun,” I explained, brushing off his concern. “It’s mostly precautionary.”
“Ah,” Hunter said as he picked up his fork again. “I know all about precautionary measures.”
Several hands paused in mid-motion as we all digested that. Hunter had spent a decade as a Special Forces operative in the Marines. Now he worked in private security, but none of us knew what exactly that meant. The only thing we all knew for sure was that the man sitting next to me was the polar opposite to the devastated, crushed boy who had left. But he wasn’t the only one who’d been nearly destroyed, and I tried to walk the fine line of loving both of my brothers.
Evan’s face tightened as he stared at Hunter. He took a breath and appeared about to speak when Liv placed a soft hand on his forearm, her headshake almost imperceptible. Evan relaxed. Liv had been instrumental in helping Evan face his own demons, and all of us were glad to welcome her into the family.
Evan met my eyes. “Always better safe than sorry.” His smile was brief, but it was there. I took whatever he was willing to give.
“Exactly.” I poured all my focus into smoothing the edges of the conversation. The awkward tension. “Now, who’s ready for dessert?”