Chapter 2
Tessa grabbed a bottle of water from her neighbor’s fridge and closed the door.
The photo of Sam’s grandson pinned near the handle caught her eye, and not because Dr. Hudson Langley was hot enough to short-circuit the East Coast. She sent up a prayer for his safe return home every time she raided Sam’s fridge.
Grabbing her running jacket, she hurried through the living room. As she stepped onto the porch, she spotted, Lia, backlit by the rising sun at the corner across from the boardwalk.
Tessa jogged toward her best friend. As she stepped off the curb, a man shooed away seagulls with a newspaper in her periphery. A flash of gray, scraggly hair tied in a ponytail snagged her attention and she stumbled.
Lia grabbed her forearm. “Whoa.”
“I’m…” Tessa fought to breathe, her five-foot-five frame dwarfed by Lia’s long, athletic silhouette. “I’m okay.”
But she wasn’t.
She bent forward at the waist and braced her hands on her knees. A gold foil candy wrapper blew between her feet. Unease built with the whiff of butterscotch. Straightening, she squinted at the sixty-ish-looking man who’d almost made her face-plant into the boardwalk.
A dingy baseball cap obscured his features, but his smooth gait confirmed it wasn’t Frank. He consumed that brand of butterscotch like an addict, though.
He’s in Belize. Not here.
God, she hoped that was true. Was it too much to ask for him to fall into the ocean and get devoured by sharks? Even though he didn’t go near the water, a girl could hope.
“That’s not him.” Lia grabbed Tessa’s hand and pulled the elastic from her ponytail, copper highlights glinting through her straight blonde mane as it tumbled past her shoulders. “Coffee is just what you need to stop seeing trouble that isn’t there.”
“Coffee sounds divine. Did you see Sam? He wasn’t at the house.”
“No. He’s probably up here somewhere.”
Tessa slipped on her jacket. Even though temperatures were unseasonably high for early November, the morning still held a bite. The nippy air hadn’t deterred the die-hard fishermen, though.
The wind scattered sand across the boards as she followed Lia to the Coffee Hut at the pier’s entrance. She pulled her credit card from the pocket of her running shorts.
Lia slapped her forearm. “Coffee, and then breakfast is on me since you got it the other day.”
A voice rose behind them. “Both of you put your money away.”
Tessa smiled and turned toward the tall, lean man who’d become the kind of father she hadn’t been blessed with.
“Morning, Sam.” She reached up and ruffled his full head of silver, wavy hair.
“Morning.” He handed a hundred-dollar bill to the teenage boy behind the counter. “This is for mine and Ralphie’s, and for the girls too. And keep the change, son.”
“Thanks.” The teen eyed the money and smirked. “Is this your winnings from yesterday? My grandpa said you cleaned him out at the senior center?”
He shrugged. “Made me feel better since Hudson can’t make it home for the tournament. His meeting tomorrow at the Pentagon must be important, though, since it’s on a Sunday.”
Sam wasn’t the only one disappointed Hudson wasn’t coming home.
She leaned into Sam for a hug. The familiar scents of the sea, cigars, and bourbon filled her nostrils. As she wrapped her arm around his waist, someone tapped her shoulder.
Smiling, she turned to Sam’s childhood friend, Ralphie, and stepped into his burly embrace. “Were you baking this morning?”
He stepped back and wiped crumbs from his sweatshirt. “I made cinnamon scones. The blueberry ones are dairy-free for Sam, so don’t eat them all.”
Lia nudged Tessa with her hip. “You’d better save me one. The twelve-to-twelve shift makes this paramedic cranky.”
Tessa pressed her hand to her belly. Working noon to midnight had always made her cranky too. So did thinking of the last—and final—call she’d responded to.
She shook off the melancholy and leaned into Sam’s warmth. “What time will you be home from Atlantic City?”
“Let’s see.” He murmured to himself about his plans to fish with his buddies and maybe hit the blackjack table. “I’ll be home by four.”
“You’ll call if you’re going to be late, right?”
Sam chuckled. “Always, Tessa.”
She drank in the rumble of his deep laugh.
As a former paramedic and the newly appointed director of fundraising for Bay County Memorial Hospital, she knew hooks and fillet knives were a recipe for disaster, especially for an eighty-two-year-old.
“You’ll be careful on the drive, right? And is your phone fully charged? ”
“Always.” Sam patted his pocket. “I’ll have it with me all day, so don’t worry. I left you a little present by the fireplace. Something I want you to have.”
“I don’t—”
“If you say you don’t deserve a present, I swear I’ll feed Ralphie’s scones to the seagulls.” He took her hand. “You deserve everything good and wonderful in life.”
She tightened her grip on his fingers as hard as she wanted to believe his words. Years of hauling guilt and shame, along with her possessions from one town to the next, had left her little time to enjoy anything good and wonderful.
Sam tugged her to the railing and rested his elbows on the wooden plank. “I want you to open your present when you get back to the house. And when I get home tonight, I’ll tell you the story behind it.”
“I want to wait and open it with you.”
“I don’t want you to wait.” He kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you later.” He straightened and backed away. “And if that present is still wrapped when I get home, I’m repossessing it.”
Tessa’s laugh tangled with guilt in her throat. When they’d become neighbors, he’d offered his understanding and protection from a past she wasn’t proud of. But as much as she trusted Sam, she couldn’t bear to say her most shameful sins aloud. Only Lia knew every secret.
Every mistake.
Every scar.
That ended tonight. “I promise I’ll open the present when I get home.”
“And I promise to bring you back a big ass bass to go with the chili you’re making for dinner.”
As she watched him walk toward his car parked in front of the duplex, she prayed confessing her sins to Sam wouldn’t conjure the devil.
She couldn’t explain why the underworld had blessed Frank with an uncanny ability to sense when she found the courage and strength to rise above her fears.
As if that perceived ability wasn’t irrational enough, she knew with absolute certainty he’d blow into town harder than a hurricane and destroy what she’d built.
Again.
And she’d leave town—again—because nothing in her life lasted forever. Not happiness, not friendships, and certainly not love.