“Hello, Crosby. How are things on that island of yours?”
I bit back a chuckle. She’d called Anchor Island, “that island of yours,” since I’d first moved here years ago, as if I owned the whole thing. I think she hoped it was simply a toy I’d pick up and put down, but it wasn’t. The small isle had become my refuge. “Things are great. I’m just headed back to the office from an appointment.”
“Business is good?”
When I’d announced my plans to move to Anchor to set up shop on the island, my mother had begged and pleaded for me not to. She’d told me if I needed a vacation spot, to go to Martha’s Vineyard or the Hamptons. Only the best for Georgina McCoy’s son. She had not been pleased when I’d gone west anyway.
“Everything’s steady.” There was only one other law office on the island, but the guy who ran it was a bit of a snob. So, slowly but steadily, I’d eaten away at more and more of his business.
“That’s good.” Her tone sounded as if she thought it was a fate worse than death.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “How are things in Boston?”
“We’re on the Vineyard this week, actually. Your father got a couple of days off.”
“That’s great. Hope you guys get some good weather.” I didn’t know why I shared the sentiment, it wasn’t like my mother went for long walks on the beach. She might deign to play a game of tennis or join my father on the golf course, but sand was a no-go zone for her.
“I’m sure we will. Look, I’m actually calling for a purpose.”
That pressure at my temples intensified, building in a steady beat behind my skull. “All right.”
“I ran into Alicia in town.”
My hold on the wheel tightened. “I don’t need to hear about her.”
“She and Brent broke up. She asked after you, so I passed along your new number.”
I let out a slew of curses under my breath. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“She made a mistake, Crosby. None of us is perfect. Surely, you don’t claim to be.”
A mistake was a single lapse in judgement. It wasn’t a two-year affair while my ring had been on the woman’s finger. “Then you go ahead and spend lots of quality time with Alicia. I’ll be passing on that.” It also meant that I’d likely have to change my phone number. “I’ve got to go, Mom. I’m at the office.”
I hung up without waiting for her goodbye. My parents had always loved Alicia and all she represented: that their son was settling down, getting serious about his law career. When we were together, my parents had seemed genuinely interested in me for the first time in my life. I talked business with Dad while Alicia and my mom would chatter on about the season’s galas. I became more like them when I was with her. It didn’t matter to my parents at all that I was slowly dying inside the whole time.
I didn’t make the turn into my office’s small gravel lot. Instead, I headed for the mountain. I needed a taste of the freedom I’d gained that I now so fiercely defended. Today, I needed some one-on-one time with a rockface to drown out all the memories threatening to suffocate me.
3
Kenna
“This blasted piece looks like it should fit, but it doesn’t. I think this puzzle is rigged.”
Harriet chuckled and set down her tea. “Should I have Caelyn come over for another yoga session? It seems you’ve lost your Zen.”
I scowled at Harriet. “You’re a traitor, you know that?”
She gave me an innocent smile. “What? I happen to like the gentle moves she takes me through.”
“Freaking pretzel twisting,” I mumbled. Harriet knew I hated the non-sport, and I think she got some perverse pleasure out of seeing me struggle to sit still for that hour. But it was good for Harriet, and Caelyn could always use the extra money the private sessions brought in. Taking care of her three siblings on a single salary was challenging on the best days.
Harriet only laughed harder. “What did yoga ever do to you?”
“It makes me feel itchy.”
“Itchy?”
“Yes. Like my skin’s too tight for my body or something. Give me a run or a swim over yoga any day.”
Harriet was silent for a moment as she studied me. “I think it’s good for you. You have to be alone with your thoughts.”
I’d always fought the silence. Stillness brought with it a steady stream of memories and self-analysis. I was a little better at enduring it now, but there had been a time I would’ve done anything to escape it.
“You have to face things, sweet girl. Looking away doesn’t make things disappear.”
Harriet had said those words to me time and again as I lay in my bed upstairs, refusing to leave. There’d been an endless cycle of mindless television on my screen. I’d even kept it on while I slept, the little bit of rest I could catch hold of anyway.
“I look at the things I have to.” I hated the worry that lit her features, didn’t want to add an ounce of stress to her shoulders. “I do. It’s nothing like it used to be.”
Harriet placed a hand over mine, gently squeezing. “I know. You’ve worked so hard to overcome your losses. You’re the strongest woman I know. But it’s okay to still mourn.”
I swallowed against the emotion gathering in my throat, the memories trying to claw their way free.
“You never talk about her.”
Her. My baby. My little girl. The one I’d lost just one week after finding out that the little bean inside my belly was a she. One week after I’d begun thinking of names.
I shoved it down. Because if I let it out, pulled that cork free, the emotions would drown me. The ferocity of them was lethal. When they were stirred up, they shredded my insides, and I had to battle to keep them down. But the idea of letting them free had images of my mother dancing in my mind. Hysterical and out of control.
“I can’t. I’m sorry, Harriet. I know you want me to, but I just can’t.” I hated letting Harriet down, disappointing her in any way, but we simply dealt with things differently. Harriet had placed a stone marker flush with the ground on a cliff overlooking the sea. The rock didn’t hold a name, only a beautiful array of intricately carved blooms. She visited it regularly, often asking if I’d like to accompany her. My answer was always no.
I carried my daughter with me every day. She was imprinted into every cell of my body. I didn’t need a stone to remember her or to feel the loss. And if I looked at a physical reminder, that carefully constructed wall, the one that kept the most dangerous emotions at bay, it would be in danger of crumbling.
“I’m worried about you.”
My head snapped up. “Why?” I had built a good life in a beautiful place. One with people I loved and a stable job. I was safe. Secure. The two things I had always wanted to create for myself above all else.
Tears glistened in Harriet’s eyes. “Holding everything inside the way you do…it’s poison. I’m terrified that my leaving this place will be a lethal dose. You have to let some of it out, let it go.”
My chest squeezed in a painful spasm, and I stared down at the puzzle piece in my hand, flipping the oblong shape over in my fingers. “Don’t talk like that. You’re doing better. Your doctor has been so impressed with the progress you’ve made.”
Harriet reached out and laid a hand over mine again, stilling my movements. “Sweet girl, my heart is going to quit on me at some point. It’s no longer about cholesterol or whether I take my walks. It’s just the way things are. I’ve had a long, full life. I’ve loved fiercely and gotten into my fair share of trouble. And you have been such a blessing to me.”
I fought against the tears burning the backs of my eyes. “Is this your way of guilting me into letting you have more French fries?”
Harriet laughed, giving my hand a little shake. She winked at me. “Whatever it takes.”
4
Crosby
I leaned against the tree at the edge of the beach, taking in the show. The woman seemed to be one with
the water. Smooth strokes cut through the inlet’s subtle waves. They were both graceful and powerful, restrained and explosive. A juxtaposition so similar to the woman herself.
Kenna made her way towards the rocky shore. Climbing to her feet, rivulets of water traced paths down curves that even her full-coverage, black Speedo couldn’t disguise. She wrung out her hair, and the long, dark sheet sprang up in unexpected curls. They reminded me of that part of Kenna she liked to hide away from the world.
Her movements faltered, and then she swiped her towel up from the beach. “What are you doing here?”
I grinned, pushing off the tree trunk and striding towards her. “Caelyn told me this was a good spot for paddleboarding.”
Kenna mumbled something about her friend being a traitor. “I’m surprised you’re even up this early.”
I gave a little shrug. I had to be at a meeting at ten, so this was the only opportunity I’d have all day to be on the water. “Every day is different.”
“Must be nice to just flit around wherever the wind takes you.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I slid it out. A familiar number, one I wished like hell I could forget, flashed across my screen along with a text.
Hey, Crosby. Can we talk? It’s important.
My face went hard as ice seemed to slide through my veins. Alicia’s gamble hadn’t paid off, and now she was trying to get her second choice back on the line. Not in this lifetime.
A cold hand grazed my forearm, yet somehow, the touch seemed to heat my skin. “Are you okay?”
I gave my head a little shake, plastering on my signature carefree smile. “Just those damn telemarketers. They never give up.”
Kenna’s hand fell away, and she took a step back. “You can just tell me to mind my own business. You don’t have to lie.”
I instantly felt the loss of her heat, the faint buzz on my skin where she’d touched me. “Fair enough.” Kenna kept her gaze locked to mine as if daring me to tell her the truth. I took the coward’s way out and changed the subject. “I like these.” I reached out and took a strand of her hair in my fingers, releasing it and letting the curl bounce.
Pink tinged her cheeks. “I prefer it straight.”
My grin grew wider. “I don’t know, Brown Eyes, I think you should let it run wild.” And what I would give to see this woman free and untamed.
* * *
I silenced my phone as I wove my way through the halls of the Alliance. Alicia had already texted twice more on the ferry ride over to Shelter Island. I took a deep breath, trying to quiet my annoyance in the same way I’d done my phone. Rapping on the open office door, I fought the urge to laugh. Callie was spinning in a circle like a cat chasing its tail. “Come in. Sorry, I just can’t find my pen.”
I pointed to the top of her head. Callie’s hands flew to her haphazard pile of hair, patting it down until she found her pen, pulling it free. “Aha! Victory is mine!”
I chuckled, moving a pile of folders from one chair to another. “How many cups of coffee have you had this morning, Cal?”
She winced, easing back in her desk chair. “Definitely not more than four.”
“I thought we agreed that two was your limit?”
Callie shrugged, patting around on her desk for some unknown item. “I’m pretty sure my blood is ninety percent caffeine at this point. If I stop drinking it, I’ll probably just drop dead.”
My brows pulled together. “I thought they were going to hire you some more help.”
She sighed, sinking back in her chair even more. “We just don’t have the budget for it.”
“Let me see if I can scrounge up some more donations for you.” The woman was only in her twenties, but at this rate, she’d give herself a heart attack before she reached thirty.
Callie’s expression gentled. “You already give us money and, more importantly, your time. I swear we would’ve gone under at least three different times if it weren’t for you.”
Heat crept up the back of my neck. “You know I’m happy to help.” When I left Boston and started over, I’d wanted to change everything about my life. That meant not being solely focused on hoarding money and powerful alliances. I wanted to use my law skills for good. I’d done some research about organizations at work in this small chain of islands off the coast of Washington.
The Shelter Island Child Alliance stood out from all the rest. They gave children in foster care a voice, an advocate in the legal system, someone who would get to know them and speak to the judges in family court on their behalf. It seemed like something I was uniquely qualified for, knowing the legal system inside and out. I’d had to do a little brushing up on family law, but it had all been worth it. There was little in the past few years that had given me more joy.
Callie slid a folder out from under her perilous stack. “I’m glad because I’ve got your new assignment.”
My last pairing, a thirteen-year-old named José, had finally been able to go home with his aunt and uncle after a nasty custody dispute following his mother’s death. The boy had been so closed off, hesitant to tell anyone who he wanted to live with. Family members on both sides began attacking each other, trying to get custody of José. But after some time, it had all worked itself out.
“Who do you have for me?”
Callie handed me the folder. “This is Zoe Parks. Father unknown. Her mother just ended up in jail for the second time after being busted in a meth sting.”
I took in the little girl’s face. She couldn’t be more than eight years old, and even if her mother did get her act together, the chances of her regaining custody were slim. There was something almost familiar about Zoe. She reminded me of a little Kenna, I realized. Maybe it was the dark brown hair. Or perhaps it was the fact that I’d just learned a little more about Kenna’s history. Regardless, my chest constricted for the little girl who was now alone in the world. “Any family in the picture?”
Callie shook her head. “No one willing to step up.”
“Assholes.”
“Not everyone’s equipped for parenthood, Crosby.”
Callie was right about that. My parents had been cold and removed on their best days. As if they’d had a child simply to mark that item off their to-do lists. Their involvement in my life growing up and into adulthood had mostly been about them trying to steer me into what they thought was appropriate. But I’d been safe and never wanted for anything. So many of the children I’d met through the Alliance would’ve given anything for that.
I flipped the file closed. “When do I meet her?”
“We want to give her the weekend to settle into her foster home, get used to a new routine. There have been a lot of folks asking her lots of questions. How about Monday?”
“Sounds like a plan.” I eyed Callie across the desk. “You’ll let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help?”
“Yes. Now, get out of here. I need to get some work done.”
I gave her a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.” I checked my watch. “Just in time to hit up The Burger Barn.”
She groaned. “Your addiction to that place is starting to get concerning.”
“They have the best cheeseburgers in the islands. Trust me, I’ve done my research.”
“You’re going to give yourself heart disease if you exist on burgers alone.”
I pushed to my feet, tucking the folder under my arm. “I like to live dangerously, Callie.” She simply shook her head and waved me out of her office.
5
Kenna
I groaned as I rolled to my back, a crick in my neck making itself known. My alarm sounded, and as I reached to shut it off, I knocked my cup of water to the floor. Muttering a curse, I felt for the alarm button and finally shut it off. I simply lay there for a moment, the warmth and coziness of my bed beckoning me to stay just a little bit longer.
There was a knock on my front door. I glanced at the clock. It was before seven a.m. Maybe Caelyn had stopped by to bring me to breakfas
t with the kids. I swung out of bed, grabbing my robe and pulling it on as I headed for the door. Opening it, I froze.
Harriet’s nurse, Natalie, stood there wringing her hands, her eyes rimmed in red. My heart seized in my chest, halting then starting back up but at double the speed. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m so sorry, Kenna. Harriet passed.”
Blood roared in my ears, a pounding that deafened everything around me. “No. I—I just saw her last night. She’s only sleeping.”
Natalie grabbed my arms as if to hold me up. “I’m so sorry. She’s gone. Went in her sleep. And when I checked on her this morning, it was too late.”
The world seemed to fade and flicker around me. Everything dulled, the edges blurring. I couldn’t smell the sea or hear the next words that came out of Natalie’s mouth. I couldn’t see the view as Natalie guided me towards the main house. But the feel of her arm wrapped around me jolted me from the mire.
I wouldn’t fall apart. I pictured every brutal piece of pain being stuffed down, beneath my carefully constructed walls. I swallowed hard as I worked to smooth out my features. “What do you need me to do?”
Natalie blinked up at me, shock evident on her face. “I, uh, are you all right?”
“I’ll be fine. Have Fire and Rescue been called?” They handled all medical emergencies on the island, and I assumed they would be called for a death, as well.
“I have…why don’t you sit down?”
Natalie tried to usher me towards a couch in the sitting room, the same place Harriet and I had worked on a puzzle just days before. I pulled out of Natalie’s hold. “I’m fine. But I need to make sure all of these details are handled.”
Natalie took a small step back, worry etching her features. I did my best to keep my face a blank mask. The last thing I needed when I felt a breath away from breaking was to see judgment in anyone’s gaze. I’d seen the looks too many times before. The abandoned daughter of the town drunk. The used and discarded trash of Grant Abbot. The one way to avoid all of those looks was to never step out of line.
Perfect Wreckage Page 3