Shelby
I’D NEVER NOTICED the way rain looked as it fell into puddles. The tiny splashes each drop made caused smaller drops to spray around it. The ripples would go for only a moment until another drop would fall, and the effect would happen all over again.
A low murmur of amens drew my focus away from the puddles. I wrapped my black shawl tighter around my shoulders as I turned to the pastor who was standing behind my grandmother’s coffin. He was speaking, but in all honesty, I couldn’t hear what he was saying. My stomach was a bundle of nerves since I drove the rental car into my small hometown, and I couldn’t sort out anyone’s words.
I’d left this place 10 years ago, never to return. That was, until Gran up and passed away. I couldn’t very well not go to her funeral. So, I packed my carry-on and flew down from New York to face the past that I’d tried so hard to forget.
And here I was, staring my history straight in the face.
I sighed as I ducked my head down. Miles’s body tightened next to me when our arms brushed. I glanced over at him to see his jaw muscles flex, but his gaze never wavered from the pastor’s face.
Was it strange that my ex-stepbrother was more broken up about my grandmother’s passing than me?
I pursed my lips and turned my attention to my lap.
Yes, that was strange. And sad. And pathetic.
Even though I wanted to console my ego and convince myself that it was okay that Miles had cried more times than I had during the funeral planning. That the funeral director handed him the box of tissues and never offered them to me. Nothing I could say to myself would fix the cold, hard heart my past had left me with.
I wanted to cry. I really did. But it was as if my tears were dried up. There was nothing left. I’d cried so much in the past that it was as if my body was completely incapable of producing tears. I was broken, and this was proof that I was never going to be fixed.
My body turned numb as I watched the cemetery owner lower the coffin into the ground. Even though it was raining, the early spring heat surrounded us. Mr. Jorgenson, the town’s mayor, wiped his forehead with his handkerchief before stuffing it back into his suit coat. Most of the other guests were leaving, sprinting to their cars with their hands or purses over their heads. The women were slowed by their heels digging into the soft ground.
I glanced down at the dark oak coffin in the ground, wondering for a moment if Gran would have been disappointed with what we’d chosen. Even though it had been years since we’d spoken, I still wanted to please her. To settle her into her final resting place in comfort.
Movement next to me drew my attention over. Miles was standing a few yards off, shaking hands with the pastor who then nodded and turned to hurry through the rain to his car.
We were now officially alone.
Miles hesitated; his gaze focused on something in front of him. But then, as if he could feel my gaze, he turned.
I knew I should look away. Facing Miles—facing Harmony Island— was the last thing I wanted to do. But I couldn’t drop my gaze. The familiarity in his stormy blue eyes as they peered into my soul paralyzed me. Miles had been my protector when we were kids, but then our parents divorced and something in him changed in high school. Our relationship was never the same. Especially now, when he seemed closer to my grandmother than I could ever be. That stung as bad as the wasps from the nest we knocked down as kids.
I shivered and focused on the hole in front of me. I was done thinking about Miles. I was finished thinking about our past. But as soon as I saw Miles approach me from the corner of my eye, I sucked in my breath.
I cursed myself. Why had I allowed our gazes to meet? I’d spent most of my three days here giving short answers and keeping to myself in the only motel in town. The other lodging options, Harmony Island Inn and the Apple Blossom B&B, were places I swore I would never go.
Too many bad memories roamed the halls.
“You okay?” Miles’s voice was low and rumbly. I wasn’t sure if it was because of our history or the situation we were in.
I nodded, tightening my grip on my upper arms. “I’m just glad it’s over. I’m ready to get out of here.” Miles remained quiet. I peeked over at him, worried that I’d said the wrong thing. “I mean—”
“I know what you mean.” Miles slipped off his suit coat, folded it in half, and rested it on the chair behind him. Then he yanked at his tie and loosened the top two buttons of his white shirt. After ruffling his gelled hair, he began to unbutton his cuffs and roll up his sleeves. “She never wanted you to stay away, but she understood why you left.”
His words were like poison to my soul. It was easier to believe that my grandmother hated me than to think she’d spent her life waiting for me to return. When I was in New York, I could pretend that we had a mutual understanding. Our family was toxic. A broken mix of flawed people that fate stupidly threw together. My grandmother, my mother, and me.
We were the opposite of the three musketeers. We were a mixture of oil, water, and alcohol. Three pieces of a puzzle that would never fit together. Now, they were both gone. My senior year of high school, Mom ran away with her yoga instructor and died in a car crash.
With Gran in the ground, I was the only one alive.
I was the only one left carrying the burden of the failure that was our small, dysfunctional family.
“I doubt that,” I whispered as I tucked a few strands of hair behind my ear that the cool ocean breeze had managed to free from the tight bun at the nape of my neck.
Miles finished rolling his sleeve and glanced over at me. I could see that he was fighting his response, and the truth was, I didn’t want to hear it. It was easier when I didn’t think anyone cared.
“So, are you leaving us for good then?”
His question caught me off guard. Leaving us. I hated that he’d moved into my life, my hometown, and my past like this. If I had my way, we would sell Harmony Island Inn and never look back.
“Yes,” I responded, nodding my head.
“And the will? Are you going to come back for the reading?”
I took in a deep breath and tipped my head back, closing my eyes. “We both know that she didn’t leave me anything.”
“We do?”
I opened my eyes, looking up at the white canopy that protected us from the rain. “Despite what you say, she wrote me out of her life a long time ago. There’s no point in pretending otherwise.”
“Shelby—”
“Miles, I’m tired.” I pulled my phone out of my purse and opened my rideshare app.
Miles stepped forward with his hand extended. For a moment, I caught what looked like desperation in his gaze before it disappeared. “Why don’t I give you a ride? I mean, the church organized a dinner and everything.” His half smile was weak and did little to dissuade me from what I’d already decided. “The town…misses you.”
I snorted as I looked up at him. Then I shook my head and returned to filling out my information and sending in the request. “I seriously doubt that.” I sighed. “I’m going to go back to my hotel room and jump in the shower. My flight is early in the morning, and I can’t be late.”
“Oh.”
I hated that he seemed disappointed. But I needed him to move on. Returning to my one-bedroom apartment in New York where I could bury my memories until they were good and dead was the only thing holding me together.
“Listen, I know my grandmother meant a lot to you, but let’s not pretend that there’s anything left for me here. Our family is finished.” My voice cracked at the last word, which threw me off guard.
I hoped Miles didn’t hear my last sentence, but after seeing the small quirk of his eyebrow, regret filled my chest.
He’d heard.
I cleared my throat. “Thank you for taking care of my grandmother in the last moments of her life.” I brushed my hands down my black dress, desperate for something to do. The mixture of my grandmother’s coffin in front of me and the way Miles was studying me, tugged at the fraying strands that were barely holding my life together.
But I knew if I didn’t thank him, the pressure to acknowledge that he was the better grandchild would gnaw at me until I would eventually buy another plane ticket to come down here and confess it. I wanted this to be the last trip I made to my godforsaken hometown. I needed to make sure I tied up all my loose ends with a pretty little bow.
“Of course,” Miles said. “She helped me a lot.” His voice deepened as he turned to face the hole where my grandmother now lay. His shoulders slumped, and I suddenly felt sorry.
I felt sorry for him. I felt sorry for my grandmother. And I felt sorry for
me.
No one had it perfect. We’d messed up so bad that, sometimes, the best
thing to do was to call a foul and walk away.
And that was what I was determined to do.
My phone dinged, startling us both. I lifted it up so I could see the screen.
“My ride’s here,” I whispered.
Miles pushed his hands through his hair once more and nodded. “Yeah, okay.” Then he paused.
I could see in his body language that he wanted to say something more, and I had a sinking suspicion as to what that was. Problem was, there was no way I was ready to hear any of it.
“It’s been nice knowing you,” I said. And before I could stop myself, I reached out and rested my hand on his arm. His warm skin shocked my fingertips, and I blinked and pulled my hand back, cursing myself for doing that.
What was wrong with me?
Miles’s gaze dropped down to the spot I had touched before he brought his gaze up to meet mine. His dark blue eyes had turned stormy, which caused my stomach to flip-flop.
My phone chimed again, pulling me from my thoughts. I pushed my purse strap higher up onto my shoulder and then gave him a weak smile.
“Goodbye, Miles,” I said as I stepped around him.
He didn’t say anything as I passed by. It wasn’t until I’d stepped out into the rain, raising my purse up over my head that I heard his response.
“Goodbye, Shelby.”
Like a dam breaking inside of me, the tears began to flow. I was grateful for the rain now more than ever. My tears mixed with the water running
down my face as I crossed the cemetery lawn and pulled open the door of the black SUV.
The man asked for my name, and I managed to get that out. He didn’t say much else as he put the car into drive and took off down the small, one- lane road that led to Main Street.
Thankfully, he didn’t ask me what was wrong. Being picked up at a cemetery seemed to be all he needed to know. Hiding under that excuse, I allowed the tears that had refused to fall all of this time to flow. I was hurt. I was broken. And for this moment, I was going to allow myself to be weak.
As soon as I got back to New York, I’d forget. But for now, I didn’t have the strength.
