Under The Willows (Jackson Bay #1)

by Ciara Shayee

  Mr. Walters’ laundromat is still there, as is the Samuels’ bakery that always used to sell the best donuts in Jackson Bay. The ice creamery comes next, and it looks like the old owners either sold up or rebranded. A big, colorful new sign hangs over the window, a giant plastic ice cream cone by the door. Sprinkles and Sunshine—what an appropriate name.

  After that, the next block is home to a combined hairdressers and barbers, a convenience store, and—

  Oh.

  My smile stretches wide as Dad slows, following Sebastian into the parking lot. My eyes find the glowing red letters above the last store in the little row of four.

  Patterson’s Gourmet Burger Co.

  Of course they’ve brought us here. Where else would we go if not the restaurant owned and run by my parents’ best friend?

  I wondered when I’d get to see him, when I’d get to introduce my boys to him, but I didn’t expect it to be this soon. Butterflies take flight in my stomach.

  “Where are we? Are we there? Why are we stopping?”

  Snorting at Arlo’s stream of questions, Dad kills the engine. “Yes, we’re here, Arlo. This is our friend’s restaurant.”

  “Oh…” he mouths, scrambling to unbuckle himself. “Can we go in?”

  “That’s the idea, Arlo,” Dad laughs.

  The lights over the storefront are a different color and the door has been painted a matching apple red, but other than that, it looks exactly how I remember it.

  That seems to be a recurring theme lately. I can’t help but wonder if I’m the only change this little town has seen in the last nine years.

  Wrapping an arm around my shoulders as I step onto the sidewalk, Sebastian grins. “You having your usual, sis?”

  “I’m sure the menu’s changed since I last ate here, Bass.”

  “Nu-uh,” Everly sings, hip-checking me so she can go ahead. “He switches up the specials now and again, but the classics are all still here.”

  Huh. Shocked but secretly pleased, I savor the different aromas as I walk into what was always my favorite place to eat. Burger Co. belongs to Dad’s best friend, so we used to eat here a lot. Muscle memory has me lifting a foot a tiny bit higher to ascend the small step just inside the door; I reach for Arlo and haul him up by his shirt as he stumbles over it in his eagerness. Nostalgia sweeps through me as a familiar face steps around the bar to make his way over.

  “The prodigal daughter returns!” Jones crows, grabbing me for a rough hug complete with a noogie.

  Laughing even as my cheeks burn, I ignore the other customers staring at us and give Jones a good dig in the side with my fingers. He lets go with a yelp. “You still don’t fight fair, Fitzgerald.”

  “Well, neither do you, Jones. No fair with the ring.”

  He winces, thumbing the band around his right middle finger. “Oops, sorry.”

  Stepping up with his little arms crossed, Jaxson peers at Jones with a beady-eyed scowl. “You hurt my momma.”

  Barking a laugh, Jones squats to be eye-level with him. “I’m very sorry, little man. You must be Piper’s kid, yeah?”

  “Jaxson Lane Fitzgerald,” he confirms, holding up all ten fingers before tucking all but his thumb down on one hand. “I’m six.”

  Jones purses his lips. “I’d need a few extra hands to show my age on my fingers, but I’m Liam Jones. You can call me ‘Jones,’ though.”

  “Are you Momma’s friend?”

  “I sure am,” Jones says, straightening back up and shooting me a wink. “For all my sins.”

  The introductions continue as Jones seats us at the long table in the window. Arlo is instantly won over the second Jones asks if he wants nachos while we decide what to order. My youngest thinks with his stomach before his head.

  Spotting Finley only when he joins his twin at the table, Jones does a double-take. Being identical twins, only those who know them well can tell them apart at a glance. It even took me weeks to be confident figuring out who was who when they were babies. Strangers have no chance unless they’re wearing something personalized with their name or initials.

  Mom and Dad, as well as my siblings, are still regulars here just like they were when I left, but it takes me a few minutes while everyone is catching up to read through the menu and refresh my memory. Everly was right, though—the menu is the same except for a few specials.

  Jones eventually retreats back to the kitchen, promising to give us a little extra somethin’ with our meals. Our server, Mila, swats him with her notebook, then patiently takes our orders.

  “So,” Mom says when she returns with our drinks a few minutes later. “Where’s the boss this evening?”

  Mila’s smile fades. Quietly, she admits, “He went home early. Rough night.”

  My chest squeezes. I was hoping to see him; it’s been years. I wrack my brain, trying to remember, and then my stomach drops to my feet.

  It was the funeral. That was the last time.

  “I’ll give him a call,” Mom decides, her features etched with worry as Jones brings all the kids’ meals out and unleashes the flood of delicious food.

  Over chili cheese fries, a katsu curry burger, and freshly squeezed OJ, I get to reconnect with my family. Arlo, Jaxson, and Finley finally get to experience the sort of big family dinners I cherished as a kid. For the first time ever, we’re all together in one spot.

  It’s precious, glorious family time.

  However, I can’t help but glance toward the bar, disappointed that I won’t be getting a glimpse of the man I was both nervous and excited to see.

  Three

  Kellan

  Numb.

  Feeling numb is normal. Grief is human. You can’t and shouldn’t run from it.

  Scoffing, I sip from my tumbler and gaze out at the rolling waves. What does Kendra know about it, anyway?

  Thunder rumbles way off in the distance, storm clouds gathering on the horizon.

  Grief is human. You can’t and shouldn’t run from it.

  “Bullshit. I can and I will,” I mumble, my voice rough.

  Running from my own bullshit is what I’ve done for the past six years, after all.

  A vague sense of being watched steals over me. Sweeping my eyes over the shore, I spot Mr. Ellison hobbling along the promenade. He lifts his hand in a wave when he sees me looking. My half-assed salute amuses him, his weathered laugh riding the wind.

  Tossing back the last of my bourbon, I keep an eye on Mr. Ellison until he’s safely through the gate leading into his yard. He’s been my neighbor ever since I moved in; I made a promise to his late wife to watch out for him after she died.

  Six years ago, I broke a promise that will haunt me for the rest of my life. I’ll never willingly break another.

  My phone pings in the kitchen, but I’m not in the mood to hear Kelly pretending to have an issue at the restaurant. It’ll just be an excuse to check on me; well-meaning, idle chit-chat is nowhere near my to-do list this evening.

  Only two things sit on that list—drinking to the bottom of the bourbon bottle on the patio table and keeping my mind distracted from the mess that is my life.

  *

  It’s not until I wake up the following morning and see twelve notifications on my cell that I remember…

  Piper came home yesterday.

  A pang of guilt worms its way through me. Carson and Bethany have been so excited for their daughter to return from England, and I know they planned to come into Burger Co. with her and their grandsons. I said I’d be there.

  I hesitate before opening the tag on Facebook from Sebastian. Despite the dull throb of my alcohol-induced headache, I find myself smiling at the picture. Sebastian, Piper, Rosie, and Everly have their arms thrown around each other, their smiles wide and happy as they stand in front of my bar. Sebastian uploaded it, but he tagged my Burger Co. page; it’s the only one I use regularly.

  After liking and sharing the image, I take another look,
only then realizing that Piper’s once-brown hair is now a rich, vibrant magenta. Not pink, but also not red, it’s…pretty. Long and wavy, just like it used to be, but far more colorful. It suits her. Adulthood does, too.

  Rubbing my eyes, I toss my legs over the side of the couch and sit up, attempting to reconcile the tiny teenager that left Florida with this woman. She’s partly hidden behind a table, but the parts of her I can see have definitely…matured.

  Frustration and shame war within me as the morning wood that had been fading away responds with eagerness to the beautiful curves in front of me.

  I’m drooling over my best friend’s daughter, now?

  “Fucking hell, Patterson. Get a grip,” I mutter, glancing at the rest of the notifications—there are a few on Facebook, messages from Jones, Kelly, and Bethany, and a voicemail from the latter wondering why I bailed after agreeing to be there when she and Carson came by with their family.

  I finally sigh, tossing my cell onto the cushion beside me before heading to the kitchen.

  I’m gonna need a bucket of coffee before I face Bethany later, that’s for sure.

  *

  Sure enough, disappointment is all over Bethany’s face when she opens the door a few hours later. Her eyes brighten as I raise the bouquet of flowers in one of my hands and the box of her favorite chocolates in the other.

  “You’re forgiven.” Tugging me into her arms for a hug, she murmurs, “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I tell her gruffly, giving her back a pat and managing a faint smile when she raises her eyebrows at me. “For you.”

  “Thank you. The flowers are beautiful, and you know I love my chocolate seashells.”

  I do know that, which is why I stopped at the store on my way over here. Bethany can be a tough cookie to win over, but she’s easily bribed.

  “Come on in, then.” I hadn’t noticed it before, but there’s an added brightness to her smile today. An extra note of happiness in her voice.

  The reason, or one of them, for both beams at me from the breakfast bar as I follow her mom into the kitchen.

  “Hi, Kellan.”

  Before I can respond—or make sense of the way my chest clenches with the sound of my name, my real name, falling from her lips—Piper is slipping off her stool and winding her arms around my waist.

  That’s right. She’s a hugger, like Bethany. I remember now.

  Unlike her mom, she’s a short little shit. My hands rest carefully on her back, the warmth of her cheek against my chest not at all unwelcome, surprisingly.

  An instinctive smile curls my lips as she steps back, her gray eyes the exact same mischievous gaze I remember. It’s been years since I’ve seen those smiling eyes. The last time she was here, I was out of town. The time before that…

  There wasn’t much smiling going on.

  “You made it home, then. Did you get lost? It’s been a while.”

  Snorting, Piper hops back onto her stool and continues eating her bowl of fruit. Her gaze is soft as she glances at Bethany, who can’t hide her glee for shit. “It was time,” she simply says, spearing some watermelon with her fork.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I take a quick look around the room. I can see evidence of Piper’s kids, the grandsons I’ve heard so much about but never met, but they’re nowhere to be seen. “Did you forget a few things? Probably yea big, likely loud little terrors like their mother was…”

  Bethany laughs. “Oh, don’t. They’re very well-behaved, actually.”

  She misses Piper’s very softly whispered “for now,” but I don’t. Shooting her a wink, I take great pleasure in the rosy flush that tints her cheeks. It almost matches the faded ends of her hair, where the pigment isn’t as strong.

  “They’re next door,” Piper explains. “Bass and Gianna volunteered to let them help Danny trash his playroom. Plus, I have about a million things to sort out and house-hunting to start—”

  “And I’ve told you, sweetheart,” Bethany stands behind her daughter, squeezing her shoulders. “There’s no rush. You and the boys are welcome here for as long as you’d like to stay. Stay forever, if you want to.”

  Piper and I both laugh, but we also know Bethany is deadly serious. She’d happily have all her kids and grandkids under one roof if they’d only agree. When Sebastian and Gianna bought the house right next door, the next best thing to staying right here, she was over the moon. Having Piper and her sons back, Bethany will be beside herself for weeks. There’s nothing she likes more than having lots of people to fuss over. Maybe with them around, she’ll be distracted enough not to mother me so much. Well-meaning or not, she can be a bit much at times.

  Or not.

  Bethany reminds me that I’ve lost weight as she rounds the counter and picks up the coffee pot. “Coffee, KP?”

  “Please.” It’s my fifth so far this morning, but it’s necessary if I’m going to make it through the day. The dull throb of a hangover threatens, but I’ve lived with a near-constant headache for the last handful of years. It won’t kill me.

  “God, I forgot. KP…everyone still calls you that?”

  Offering Piper a wry half-smile, I nod and lean back against the counter, my arms crossed over my chest. “You started it. Do you remember?”

  “Of course!”

  Fucking ties. I knew I should have asked Shannon to tie it for me before I left Utah. I could have just loosened it and lifted it over my head to put it back on now.

  Finally deciding it’s probably as good as it’s gonna get, I straighten my shoulders and look up at the building in front of me.

  Swan’s Nest In The Bay.

  I’ve done my research. There are six hotels in the Swan’s Nest franchise—so far all on the east coast except one, the one I’ve worked at as a porter for the last two years in Salt Lake City. Mr. Carson Fitzgerald is the founder and CEO. He’s self-made and now easily the second richest guy in Jackson Bay after the founding family.

  His company prides itself on good, honest work and great customer service, but being a porter or a server isn’t my calling. I want to get to the top. I want to work my way up, become Mr. Fitzgerald’s right hand, learn from him, then start my own business.

  But I need to get a job here, first. Baby steps and all that. I may only be eighteen, but I’m willing to graft for what I want—a future for me and Shannon, hopefully here in Jackson Bay. It’s a lot different from where I grew up, but I love it so far.

  A smiling blonde greets me when I step through the big double doors. She motions for me to wait a moment while she finishes helping an elderly couple check out, but I’m too nervous to take the chair she indicates, so I stand over by the windows overlooking the bay instead.

  “Are you here for an interview?”

  Holy—

  “Sorry.” The little girl who scared the ever-loving shit out of me offers me a bright grin. “Daddy says I shouldn’t sneak. Did I make you jump?”

  “A little,” I admit, rattled.

  The kid, who can’t be older than six or seven, grins a big, gap-toothed smile. “Are you here for an interview? Daddy sent me to get the next guy.” As she pulls a pink Post-It from her overalls pocket, I see my name written in big letters. “Are you…K. Patterson?”

  “I sure am.” Suddenly, as she gestures for me to follow her, I realize this girl must be Mr. Fitzgerald’s kid. I can’t help but ask… “Have lots of people come for interviews with your dad?”

  She shrugs. “Nah. Like, three, I think?”

  Number four, then. Huh. Not too much competition.

  It occurs to me that it’s odd for a kid her age to be running around alone in a hotel, then she waves at the receptionist on her way past the desk, greeting her by name. As we walk through the ‘Staff Only’ doors, she calls out to two porters taking a sandwich break. Again, she knows their names. Then, when we reach a small waiting room at the end of the hall, another receptionist behind a desk smiles and calls her over
. I guess she spends a lot of time here to know everybody.

  “Well done, Piper. You found him.”

  “What shall I do now, Lisa?”

  After telling Piper to hang around and wait for her Dad, Lisa turns to me and directs me to a club chair near another set of windows.

  Just feet away from the man I’m desperate to impress, I can’t sit. Instead, I stand in front of the glass overlooking the bay. I met Mr. Fitzgerald once. He was visiting the hotel in Salt Lake City, and I was the guy chosen to show him to his room. He was kind and didn’t laugh at me when I stuttered my way through all the usual info, forgetting he’d already know it all. When I admitted that I wanted to be like him someday, he patted me on the shoulder and told me hard work and perseverance would get me there.

  I can only hope he was right and wonder if he’ll remember me, the nervous kid who swore when I apologized for the boring check-in speech.

  I grin when Piper skips over, cocking her head.

  “Do you need help with that?” she asks, nodding at my tie I’m absent-mindedly messing with.

  My eyebrows lift. “You know how to do ties?”

  “Sure. Stand there and keep still.”

  Lisa laughs. “You may as well do as she says. She’s a force of nature, just like her father.”

  Blindly following Piper’s instructions, I find myself standing beside the chair while she hops up to stand on the cushions.

  “I help Daddy with his tie all the time. Momma showed me how.”

  “That’s really cool.”

  “S’this your initials? KP?”

  Nodding, I watch as she trails her finger over the embroidered letters at the bottom of the tie. “Yeah, for ‘Kellan Patterson.’”

  For having such small hands, she expertly manhandles my tie into submission and has it looking perfect just as the phone on Lisa’s desk rings.

  Offering me a reassuring smile, Lisa nods for me to head on in. “Go ahead. Good luck.”