Near the end of the day, he went to the hospital, making his way to Nate’s room just as Noah was walking out.
“Any change?”
Noah shook his head. “I’m starting to wonder if he’s ever going to wake up.” They stood in the hallway outside Nate’s room. “Walker came by again today. Any chance you remember anything more?”
Ryan shoved his hands in the pockets of his work jeans. He didn’t want to lie to Noah—but how could he confess his suspicions when he wasn’t sure? If he was right, would they all look at him differently? Would they blame him somehow for his father’s stupidity? It wouldn’t be the first time Martin Brooks’s actions had tainted someone’s view of Ryan.
“Brooks?”
“Sorry, I was going over it in my head.” Ryan shrugged. “I wish I could remember more.”
“We’ve got to get the guy who was driving that truck,” Noah said. “And he better hope Walker finds him before I do.”
Noah walked away, leaving Ryan standing alone in the hallway, feeling nauseous.
He entered the room, took a seat, and stared at Nate, guilt washing over him like a thick coat of mud.
“Oh, Ryan. I didn’t know you were in here.”
He turned and found Dottie standing in the doorway. “I just got here. Is it someone else’s turn?”
She waved him off. “The nurses are a little more lenient than I thought. We’ve had people coming and going all day long. I don’t ever want him to be alone, is all.”
Ryan gave a soft nod and Dottie crossed over to the other side of the bed, still not looking at her son.
“How are you holding up?”
She sat down. “About as well as I can, I suppose. I just keep expecting to walk in here and find him awake and sitting up, wondering what all the fuss was about.”
“Me too.”
The sound of the machine’s artificial breathing filled the silence between them.
“Thanks for being so kind to Lane,” Dottie said.
He frowned. Did she expect him not to be kind to her?
“She’s an angry person right now, I think. I’m guessing she hasn’t exactly been friendly to you.” She seemed to be sizing him up. “But then, you always were sweet to her, weren’t you?”
“What can I say, Mrs. K.? I’m a sweet guy.” He leaned back in his chair.
“You know I can see right through that charming facade you’ve got going on.” She waggled a finger in his general direction.
He raised an eyebrow as if to say, Do go on, but Mrs. K. only stared at him, reading his mail without his permission.
Finally he looked away.
“What are you waiting for?”
For the first time since she sat down, she glanced at Nate. “Obviously tomorrow is promised to no one.” Her voice hitched at the back of her throat at the implication. “You think you’ve got all the time in the world, but you don’t. If you see a chance to be happy, you should take it. You deserve it, and my daughter could use someone good in her life.”
“Thanks, Mrs. K., but—”
“She’s working at the shop tomorrow. In case you wondered.”
“You know she has a boyfriend,” he said, deciding not to care that Lane’s mom was far more observant than he’d given her credit for.
Dottie flicked her hand dismissively.
“I don’t think she’s interested in me.”
She met his eyes. “Maybe not yet, but don’t give up on her, okay? Lane is shy. Self-sufficient. She needs someone persistent. She’s worth the work, isn’t she?”
He grinned. Yes. She absolutely was. He’d known that since they were kids, but he and Lane were very different. Her with her stubbornness and him with his nonchalance. They’d drive each other crazy.
Still, he loved a challenge, even one that was nearly impossible.
“Besides, it’s time you stopped dating all those tarts.”
“Tarts?” Ryan laughed.
“All those ditzy, beautiful girls who get their news from People magazine.”
She had a point. He definitely had a type, and Lane didn’t fit it at all.
Lane was different. He had a feeling if he let himself, he could get lost in the whole idea of her. Maybe he wasn’t up for this challenge.
“She’s going back to Chicago, Mrs. K. I can’t start a relationship with someone who has no interest in living here. You know my whole life is in Harbor Pointe. And I need to be here for Hailey and Jack.”
Another hand flip. “If it’s important, you’ll find a way—”
“If not, you’ll find an excuse. I know.”
“Remember that, kiddo.”
Oh, he’d remember. Lane got his mind spinning with so much noise that he’d fallen asleep with the image of her smile floating through his mind.
By Friday he could practically feel the time with Lane slipping away. Somehow he realized once she returned to Chicago, she wasn’t going to come back. And though he knew that was probably for the best, at lunchtime he found himself standing in the parking lot of Summers Cheese, staring at the door and wondering what on earth he was doing.
She has a boyfriend. She is not interested in you.
More excuses.
He pulled the door open as if the words playing on repeat in his mind didn’t matter at all.
Lane stood at the front counter wearing a long green apron and a ball cap, waiting on a customer who, by the looks of it, was very indecisive. Or maybe just interested in free samples.
“Can I try that one there?” The older woman pointed a bony, red-tipped finger at a chunk labeled Tomato Basil Cheddar and smiled at Lane.
Ryan stepped up beside the woman, catching Lane’s eye—and her irritation. She’d always hated working at Summers, and he had a feeling needy customers weren’t going to help.
“That’s a good one,” Ryan said. “But the four-year aged cheddar is even better.”
“Oh?” The old woman turned to him, the smell of flowers and soap accosting his nostrils as she did.
“I’m in here every day. I’m telling you—” he pointed to the case—“that is the one you want.”
“It is very good,” the woman said. “I tried a sample of that earlier.”
“You really can’t go wrong with it, Mrs. . . . ?”
“Oh, you can call me Edna. We just got into town, so I wanted to stop by. My husband loves his cheese.”
“Perfect. Lane, why don’t you wrap up a block of that aged cheddar for my friend Edna here?”
Lane did as he said, an incredulous look on her face, then rang up Edna’s order and sent her on her way. As the old woman walked out, the bell over the door jangled and Lane turned her attention back to Ryan.
“What was that?”
He leaned on the counter. They’d been here before. His turkey sandwich tradition had continued all the way through high school. Had Frank ever told the rest of them how Ryan had really come into their lives?
Ryan would work in the back for a couple of hours each day and Frank had Lane make him whatever he wanted in return. Did she know it was still usually the first—and only—time he’d eaten all day? Whatever lunch money he could scrape together always went to Hailey, so Summers kept him fed.
“You’re like an old-lady whisperer. That was about to be her fifteenth sample.”
Ryan laughed. “Don’t you have a limit?”
She shrugged. “I’m just filling in.”
“And you look very happy about it.”
She groaned. “I’m having flashbacks—not the good kind.” She pulled out a broom and came around the counter to sweep the floor underneath the few round tables set up in the space. Summers wasn’t really a restaurant, but they did have a café menu, and occasionally customers needed a place to sit and eat.
“All your memories here can’t be bad ones.” He turned to face her. “I mean, I was in a lot of them, so how bad could they be?”
She glanced over and he grinned at her. If he could just get her to lo
osen up, remember how they’d been friends once, maybe he could chip away at the body armor she seemed to be wearing. Maybe he could even start to show her what she was missing by keeping all of them out of her life.
“All I remember is you showing up here to sweet-talk your way to free sandwiches.”
“They were not free—I did my chores. Besides, your mom was right. You always had a soft spot for me.”
“I just wanted to get you out of here as quickly as possible.”
“Uh-huh.”
She leaned over and swept the dirt into a dustpan. “What are you doing here now anyway? Don’t you work?”
“It’s time for lunch.”
She dumped the contents of the dustpan into the trash can. “Let me guess, you came here to sweet-talk your way into a free sandwich?”
“Of course not.” As she walked behind the counter, he faced her again. “I mean, unless you’re offering.”
“You’re something else, Brooks, you know that?”
“That’s what they tell me.” He had to believe her annoyance with him was a put-on.
“Turkey with sharp cheddar and bacon?” She pulled the block of sharp cheddar out of the case and set it on the counter.
“Is there any other Summers sandwich?”
She shook her head as she put together the ingredients for what he was sure would be the best sandwich he’d had in a long time. Thick honey-wheat bread made at the bakery down the street, piled high with fresh deli turkey and topped with the best cheese he’d ever tasted. He hadn’t come in for the food, but now that he thought about it, he was starving.
“Make one for yourself, too.” He walked around to the other side of the counter. “Actually, let me make it for you.”
She turned toward him, surprise on her face. “You can’t be back here.”
“Another one of your rules?”
She glanced toward the back, where he wondered if someone else was working. “One of my dad’s rules.”
“Your dad won’t care.” He walked over to the stand-up cooler and pulled out a container marked Chicken Salad.
He happened to know it was her all-time favorite, especially with a little salt and pepper.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m making you lunch.” He gave her a shove with his elbow as if to clear space for himself at the counter where the sandwiches were made.
“I don’t eat—”
But before she could finish, he put his hand on her lips, an action that came out of instinct but carried a weightier consequence than he expected.
Her eyes locked on his and stopped him in his tracks for a split second. What did he expect to happen? Did he think he could just touch her lips and feel nothing?
“No rules.” He pulled his hand away. “It’s your favorite; I remember.”
She frowned. “Do you also remember me being overweight?”
He shrugged. “No. I just remember you being fun.”
She gave a humorless laugh. “I was never fun.”
“You really don’t remember, do you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The times we snuck down to the lake, all of us kids—except Lindsay because she was too young—and swam in the middle of the night? Or the bonfires on the beach at the start of every summer? The brown-bag concerts in the park your parents would drag us to and we always pretended to hate, but we ended up having the best time. You loved those concerts. And your dad always packed you this exact sandwich.”
Her face fell.
“Those were some of my best memories.”
“You and I remember those things differently,” she said.
He studied her for several long seconds, resisting the urge to kiss her right there in the middle of the cheese shop.
“I hardly ever had fun as a kid.” She turned back to the sandwich.
He’d heard about the teasing, but it wasn’t until one night down at the beach that he witnessed it for himself. They were playing a game of truth or dare—an awful game he’d grown to hate—and someone thought it would be funny to dare him to kiss Lane. Her expression in that moment was one of sheer panic, but truth be told, he’d been wanting to kiss her for a while by then. They were in high school, and while he’d done his best to ignore it, he liked Lane. And not the way a brother likes a sister.
It wasn’t the kind of dare he was dreading.
They both stood, the light of the fire illuminating their young faces, and he reached for her hand across the circle.
“You should’ve picked truth,” she said.
Not a chance. Truth—for someone like Ryan Brooks—was much harder to deal with than any dare their friends could dream up.
He led her a short distance from the rest of the group, aware that in order for the dare to count, their kiss had to be witnessed by everyone. They stood at the base of the stairs built into the side of the dunes, his back to the circle, her standing right in front of him.
“This is ridiculous,” she said. “You don’t have to do this.”
“What if I want to?”
Slowly their eyes met, but she quickly looked away, laughing off his comment. She was nervous, he could tell. He wondered if she’d ever been kissed.
He wished it hadn’t taken a stupid game to get him to work up his courage.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded, staring at his chest. He lifted her chin, letting his hand slip down her neck and rest there.
“Let’s just get this over with,” she said.
But as he leaned closer, Walker Jones, the one who’d dared him to kiss her in the first place, came up beside them, a hand on each of their shoulders. “What’s taking you so long, Brooks? We heard you liked bacon.” He looked at Lane then and snorted at her—right in her face.
“Back off, Jones.” Ryan pushed the other guy in the chest, forcing him to release his grip on both of them. “You’re such a jerk.”
Walker let out a loud burst of laughter, then called out to the rest of them, “It’s not gonna happen. These two are disqualified.”
Lane stood unmoving, as if his comments were cinder blocks tied to her ankles. He took her hand, but he had no words to comfort her after that.
“I’m fine, Brooks,” she said. “I just want to go home. Alone.”
Stupidly he let her go. In hindsight, he shouldn’t have. He should’ve walked her home, stood on the front porch of the Kelleys’ old Victorian, and told her that what he really wanted was to kiss her of his own free will—not because some idiot had dared him to as part of a cruel joke.
Instead he returned to the circle, feeling sick and trying hard not to punch Walker Jones square in the jaw.
CHAPTER
15
LANE WRAPPED RYAN’S SANDWICH and stuck a Summers sticker on the back to hold it together. As she did, she tried to calm her unsteady nerves. The traitorous things had gotten out of control as soon as Ryan’s fingers touched her lips.
It was stupid. This was Brooks. He was practically a member of her family . . . yet she knew even a casual infatuation with him could lead her straight back to where she was after Jasper broke her heart.
She’d promised herself that would never happen again.
She was just jumpy. It wasn’t because he still seemed to know her after all this time—or because he still wanted to be around her. Or because he remembered her favorite sandwich. They were friends. That was all. She needed to get used to having a guy for a friend again.
“Here’s your sandwich.” She held it out to him nonchalantly. At least she thought it was nonchalant. Could he hear her heart pounding?
He finished wrapping the paper around hers and held it up. “And here’s yours.”
She didn’t eat bread. How could she say that without being chastised? “Now what?”
“Now you’re going to come with me and we’re going to eat our sandwiches.”
Her phone buzzed in the pocket of her apron. For the briefest moment, she’d almost
forgotten the insane amount of pressure she was under at work. “I really shouldn’t, Brooks. I told my dad I’d cover while he’s with Nate.”
“Is Jimmy back there?”
“Yes.”
“He can cover for an hour. Everyone deserves a lunch break.”
A lunch break for her consisted of a Cobb salad with dressing on the side ordered by Chloe and eaten at her desk.
She glanced at her phone and saw Marshall’s name on the screen. She didn’t bother reading the message. At the moment, she didn’t want to know what he had to say. He’d purposely handicapped her by keeping their next meeting on Monday when he very easily could’ve given her at least until Wednesday. Was he being selfish or thoughtless? Either way, it had her rethinking their entire relationship.
But then, being in Harbor Pointe had her rethinking a lot of things.
“Jimmy!” Ryan hollered.
Her dad’s oldest employee appeared in the doorway of the back room.
“Can you cover the front for an hour?”
“Of course, Mr. Brooks!” He waved them off dismissively.
“See, Jimmy can handle it.”
Lane shook her head. “You are a piece of work, you know that, Ryan Brooks?”
“I want to show you something.” He grinned at her the way he sometimes had when they were kids. Most guys growing up in his shoes would’ve clammed up, closed themselves off, gotten into trouble. Somehow, his father’s drinking had inspired the opposite in Brooks. He’d worked harder, laughed louder, and stayed out of trouble more than most boys his age.
Yet sometimes she could sense a dark cloud still hung overhead. As if some of it was just an act. How many people had actually seen the real Ryan Brooks?
She had. She was sure of it. There’d been a few rare, quiet moments over the years when he’d opened up in front of her. One time he told her the only place he felt safe was at their house.
Ryan grabbed two bags of chips—something else Lane didn’t eat—and she took two bottles of water out of the refrigerator. They put it all in a Summers bag, and she pulled off her hat and apron and hung them on the hook by the back door.
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