Chapter Thirty-One
—NOA
I can’t believe Shawn is a kept woman. If there was ever one person I would have predicted to stay wild and free her entire life, it would be Shawnda Callen.
And instead, I’m sitting across from Shawn on the new-and-improved waterfront patio of the Surf Shack, watching her feed gummy worms to her girlfriend.
“I’m not trying to be a buzzkill,” I say, “but this is starting to gross me out.”
Shawn laughs and looks sideways at me. “Oh right,” she replies. “Like I never have to watch you and Jamie sucking face on the boat.”
“Sucking face?” I repeat with my lip curled. “Nasty.”
Both Shawn and Jordan laugh. Jordan sets down the cup of ice cream (all the gummy worms now picked out of it), checking the time on her phone.
“I should go,” she says. “Apparently, it’s a big day at the resort. My mother needs me to help her pick out napkins or something equally as pointless.”
“Tell Cece I said hello,” Shawn says, wagging her fingers. Jordan leans down and exchanges a quick kiss with Shawn before heading back up to the Augustus Resort.
“No, I get you,” Shawn tells me after Jordan’s gone, digging her spoon through the ice cream. “We are kind of sickening sometimes.” We both laugh.
I lean back in the chair, surveying the new dining patio for the Surf Shack. Tech’s mother runs the kitchen, the entire establishment employing locals who had been displaced by the Augustus Resort.
In the end, Cecelia Miles made good on her offer.
She donated a substantial amount to the rebuilding of the Surf Shack and led the charge to reform the county easements that had been holding us back.
She helped us get the proper permits, and now the resort sends their tourists here for boat rentals and surfing instruction—no strings attached.
This time, we had an excellent lawyer, who also happens to be Jamie’s mother, review the paperwork.
Of course, I’m sure Cecelia Miles got a hefty tax break for all her charity, but regardless, we have our business back. And our home.
I get up and walk off the patio onto our newly expanded boat dock. I walk over to Jamie’s yacht, and knock on the side. He comes out in his bathing suit, bronzed like a Greek god, his hair surfer long now.
“Apparently there’s some big event at the resort today,” I tell him.
He furrows his brow and grabs a T-shirt to pull on, obstructing my view, before climbing down to meet me on the dock. He puts his arm around me, his skin warm from the sun, and together we turn toward the Augustus Resort.
“Well, Mancini is in prison and my father is still negotiating terms for his trial,” he says. “So I don’t think it’s a homecoming party for either of them.”
Alessandro Mancini was held without bail for months, professing his innocence until he eventually took a plea for the death of Felix Mancini, sentenced to fifteen-to-twenty years.
He’s still facing charges for murdering Gina Tamayo, arson, and fraud.
And for the death of his fiancé, Florence Marsten.
After Mancini’s arrest, the FBI swarmed the Starline Hotel, followed by the press. For months, it was the top news story: LOST RESORT FOUND AT LAST. But those stories are already fading. As if the Starline Hotel had always been meant to stay lost.
Still, there was an official press conference held by the sheriff’s office. They cleared Gabriel Mendez of the murder of Florence Marsten. Tech’s grandmother was at the sheriff’s side as he spoke, nodding along because she always knew her son was innocent.
As for Jamie’s dad, he has managed to stay out of jail by filing endless continuances and court documents.
From what we hear, he won’t spend a single day in prison.
He’s really just burning through his own money at this point, trying to clear his name.
His company has already been taken off the stock exchange.
For his part, Jamie works for the Surf Shack now, although he’s technically an independent contractor.
He charters day trips on his yacht while I handle the surf lessons and Ellis handles the books.
My father is enjoying a soft retirement, fishing from The Tarpon.
He’s still here every day, micromanaging us, but now he’s finally living his life after years of putting it on hold to keep us afloat.
And occasionally, the sheriff stops by for a beer. Smiling to himself as he watches the water, and hoping that he made his sister proud.
While we built a new restaurant, the Surf Shack itself is almost identical, although we did add a little more charm and a few more square feet. We also added an extra bedroom, and thankfully a second bathroom, but other than that, we tried to recreate what we already had.
And Ellis put up a plaque on the dock, facing the boats and the horizon.
FOR FELIX—MY brOTHER. “YOU SAW IT FIRST, BUT I’LL MEET YOU THERE.”
I don’t think I’ll ever not cry when I walk past it. But I love it, knowing that Felix is still out there, adventuring somewhere.
Jamie lives on his yacht, not exactly roughing it, and I think it’s a great compromise.
We have a private area whenever we want with the ocean surrounding us.
In a few weeks, his sister and mother are coming to visit.
We did spend Christmas with them in Connecticut, which was a bit of a shock for this Florida girl.
I’m not about that snow life. Jamie’s mother is doing well, and his sister is thriving.
It’s nice to see them happy, and it’s even better since they’re letting Jamie be a part of it.
“Chasers,” Tech yells as he walks out of the Surf Shack office. “Any of you coming to work today or what?”
Tech has been letting his assistant manager title go to his head.
The Chasers vs. the Collective rivalry is all but snuffed out. It’s hard to claim the moral high ground when your leader was an actual murdering psychopath. Now we’re all just Cape Hope townies—but, we still use our nickname once in a while.
“It’s my day off,” Jamie says with a grin, his words barely leaving his lips before he pulls me in for another kiss. His lips are warm, and for a moment, the world fades away—just the salty air and the rhythm of the ocean in the distance. When he finally lets me go, I blink up at him adoringly.
His eyes sweep over me. “You’re just too pretty,” he murmurs, almost apologetically. He backs away slowly, looking miserable to have to leave my side, but it’s the kind of misery that doesn’t seem all that bad.
As he heads over to the counter to talk to Tech, they slap hands, laughing about something with the boat.
I can’t hear the joke, but it’s clear they’re close.
Not that we steal any more boats. We’re totally reformed.
In fact, the Surf Shack is actually turning a profit these days. It’s kind of a miracle.
I glance around, spotting a bag of trash that someone left behind near the dock.
I grab it, my fingers brushing the sun-warmed plastic, and start heading toward the dumpster.
We’ve been busier than usual lately, but I can’t say I mind.
One of the boats moored out front actually belongs to Hailey, who is now estranged from her family and dating one of the resort valets.
She’s not exactly chill, but we let her come to Bonfire Beach once in a while.
And even Matteo, who never did have to testify against his father, stops by once in a while with his girlfriend. He seems happy—more confident, but in real way. He’s no longer the asshole from the resort. Now he’s a friend.
I toss the bag of trash away, and when I come back toward the counter, Ellis is walking outside, dragging his fingers through his messy hair. He looks bored out of his mind, his shoulders slumped, his eyes half closed.
“Is there some event happening today at the resort?” he asks, his voice flat. “I’ve gotten about a hundred calls for surf lessons and two charters. A bit much.”
Before I can answer, Shawn appears, breezing in as she sucks down an energy drink. She slides in next to Ellis, giving him a playful shove that makes him laugh and shift over to make room for her.
“Yeah, about that,” Shawn says, her gaze sweeping over all of us before she continues. “Jordan told me they appointed a new board member this morning, and they’re throwing a whole coronation, like she’s some kind of queen.”
“What?” I laugh, shaking my head. “I didn’t hear anything about a new board member. Not that I’m invested in resort politics, but what’s the big deal? Who is she?”
“That’s the thing,” Shawn says. “No one has met her yet. And she’s not just a new board member either. Apparently she bought out Alessandro’s half of the resort. People are stressing.”
“Why?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“Because she’s an outsider,” Shawn points out. “She’s not from here—she doesn’t know anything about the history of Cape Hope. Word is, she’s already talking about expansion. It’s not going to get approved, obviously. Not after what we went through last summer.”
We turn our attention to the Augustus Resort, still a yellow monstrosity at the top of the hill. It’s a looming reminder of everything we don’t want to be. But for now, the Grand Augustus Resort is just another empty shell of ambition—an updated version of the Starline Hotel.
While there will always be people trying to own a piece of our beach, together we have finally carved out our own paradise here on the coast. And we’ll hold on to that for as long as we can.
Chasing the sun, chasing our dreams.