“God, your mom, Blake…” She hung her head. “I always liked her. She was always so sweet to me.”
“Probably because she needed another girl around here,” I joked, but I didn’t feel the lightness of it. My mom had loved Sierra. She had been crushed when Sierra had taken off and then we’d gotten her diagnosis.
I cleared my throat. “You said you were here to see my dad?”
She suddenly looked uncomfortable. “It was nothing.”
“It had to be something for you to drive over this early.”
She shook her head. “I wanted to know what he thought about some of Aunt Lindy’s things. That’s all.”
“Like what?”
“I—uh—I don’t want to bother you with it. I had no idea you were dealing with all this.” She brushed off her legs and stood from the porch. “I’ll take care of it. The beach charity van is going to be at the house soon anyway.”
“What are you doing with Lindy’s house?” I asked.
I had struck a nerve. “Sell it I guess.”
“You’re going to sell it? That house had been in her family for a hundred years.”
“I know how old it is. Do you have an issue with it?”
“It shouldn’t go to an outsider. That’s all I’m trying to fucking say,” I barked.
“And just how do you categorize me?” she fumed.
“What are you talking about?”
“Me. Where do you think I fit in?”
“You’re an islander, Sierra. At least you used to be.”
“Yeah,” she whispered. “Used to be.”
She walked to the car. “I’m sorry about your dad. Really.”
The ignition started and I watched as she rolled down the windows before backing out of the driveway.
I strolled over to her door. “Hey. What do you say we do something later?” I put my hand on the window edge.
“What? This again? I think last night proved we are a colossal disaster.”
“No Long Island ice teas this time.”
She chewed her lip. “I don’t know.”
“How about this? Let’s go to the Cape for the day. It’s hot. You shouldn’t be locked up inside cleaning up shit. Let’s take the boat out. Remind you that you really are an islander.”
“But—the charity—”
I shrugged. “Leave them a note. I’ll pick you up on the pier in an hour.”
I saw the corners of her pink lips curl. Damn she was still gorgeous.
“Ok. I can do that. And I’ll pack some sandwiches?”
I slapped the side of her car. “You better. I eat a lot. See you in an hour.”
I watched as she backed all the way out of the drive and realized I needed to get the cooler ready. I had a full day of drinking to do.
13
Sierra
I placed the open slices of bread on the cutting board and furiously spread mayonnaise and mustard over them.
I couldn’t believe Roger Wyatt was dead. The man I blamed for ruining my life wasn’t here anymore. It was a lot to take in. What did that mean for Blake? He was dealing with the death of his father. I had missed so many events in his life.
I hurried to wrap the turkey sandwiches and tuck them inside plastic sleeves. He would be here any minute. I couldn’t think about Blake’s dad or the past. Today was all about the future.
I watched Blake anchor his boat on a secluded end of the bank where few tourists visited. I wondered if he tried to stay away from potential fans on purpose. I was constantly at odds trying to figure him out. He had to be feeling that way too. Was that what this was? An attempt to make me fall in love with the island again so I wouldn’t sell the house?
Light bounced off the water and caught the glistening of a swimming school of fish. Sometimes wild ponies could be spotted on top of the dunes, playing a game of tag. I peered at the horizon, looking for the horses.
It had been eight years since I had been to the Cape, but Aunt Lindy had taught me well how to pack for a day at the beach. I’d never forgotten her lessons. I had a cooler full of drinks, sandwiches, and suntan lotion. Blake smiled as he loaded the cooler and other bags onto his boat.
“You know I usually just bring a six-pack of beer and sometimes a bag of chips.”
“I wanted to make sure we had everything we needed.” Maybe three bags were too many for a day trip, but I wasn’t about to admit that to him.
When we anchored, he helped me spread the blanket on a stretch of beach a few feet from where the waves were lapping against the shore.
I sprawled out on the blanket with a book while Blake started on a beer. I kept reading the same page over and over again. I couldn’t get past the second paragraph. Every time I looked up at Blake, all I could focus on were the endless amounts of chiseled muscles. There was something mesmerizing about his bronze skin, and my imagination was taking over as I watched him rub more lotion on his arms and chest.