Afterglow
Lantern Beach Escape, Book 1
Christy Barritt
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Complete Book List
About the Author
Chapter One
Rachel Stewart felt herself falling. Falling.
Air surrounded her. Air and darkness and nothingness.
And fear.
She didn’t know fear could be material. But as life as she knew it disappeared, Rachel felt the emotion as surely as she felt the breeze on her skin.
She could hardly hear her own scream. The angry roar of the waves below drowned all other sound as she plummeted from the fishing pier.
Rachel braced herself for impact with the dark, cold waters. Waters that would be her grave in an ending full of deadly poetic justice.
She didn’t have time to think or react. She was at the mercy of physics. The first domino had been tapped, and her demise had been set in motion.
Her body hit the water, and she plunged into darkness. Chilling darkness. Darkness that consumed her, wanting to pull her under. And under.
It would be so easy to let the ocean swallow her. To stop fighting. To surrender to the water that ravaged her and allow it to become her grave.
No! Rachel couldn’t let go this easily. She still had too much to live for. Her past sins could be forgiven . . . couldn’t they?
Rachel propelled her arms and legs and pushed herself to the surface. She sucked in a deep gasp of air.
You can do this, Rachel. Just stay afloat until help comes. Keep your head above water.
But it was no use. The waves . . . they were nine feet high today. And rough. The rip currents in the area had been dangerous. She’d heard the people at lunch talking about how three people had been pulled out to sea earlier today.
Thankfully, they’d all been rescued.
But would she?
She sank beneath the water again, her arms and leg flailing as she tried to take control and keep herself afloat.
Her limbs exhausted, she finally bobbed back to the surface again and gulped another breath. As she did, another wave pummeled her.
She gazed at the shoreline in the distance. The lights of Lantern Beach stared back at her, looking so innocent and picturesque—a grim reminder of how happy she should be.
Life there grew farther and farther away.
The current was dragging Rachel farther out, deeper into the ocean, wasn’t it?
And there was no one around to help, she realized.
No one except the person who’d pushed her into the water in the first place.
Chapter Two
Two Days Earlier
Rachel leaned into her husband’s strong embrace and closed her eyes.
The moment felt perfect as they stood on the shore of Lantern Beach as the sun set, as the ocean sang its methodically blissful song, and as a comfortable breeze cooled their skin.
Finally, she felt the start of redemption and new beginning in her life. Two years ago, everything had been destroyed around her, and she’d been certain she’d never recover from the tragedy. But, today, she was so thankful that God was a God of second chances.
Grayson Stewart had been her second chance, and she prayed prayers of thanks for that every single day.
“I can’t believe we’re married,” Grayson murmured into her hair as his arms tightened around her. “I feel like the luckiest man in the world.”
“I understand the feeling.” Rachel rested her head on her husband’s chest as they both stared out over the glimmering waters of the Atlantic Ocean. “I keep on wanting to pinch myself. And now I have five whole days here at the most beautiful place on earth with the most wonderful man I know.”
They’d gotten married the previous day in a romantic ceremony at her church in Raleigh, North Carolina. The reception afterward had been beautiful, and the weather had cooperated—sunny but not humid. The whole event had been small, filled with only the people most important to them—just as it should be.
The two of them had arrived here on Lantern Beach this afternoon, just in time to move into their rental cottage, grab some dinner, and take this beautiful stroll near the boardwalk that stretched through a touristy area of town.
Summer had brought vacationers here in droves to experience the magic of this little island that was cut off from most of the world and accessible only by boat. Still, she felt as if the two of them stood alone on the shore.
Rachel pulled her head back, turned, and looked up at her husband.
Grayson was handsome. He had a lean build, light brown hair cut short, and brown eyes that seemed to see into her soul. This man made her heart race, provoked her to think deeper on subjects, and provided a safety net Rachel hadn’t even realized she needed.
He was an investigative reporter with a newspaper out of Raleigh. He was twenty-seven years old—two years older than she was. She’d discovered he was fearless in the face of conflict and never hesitant to seek justice for those in need.
In other words, he was perfect.
She placed a soft kiss on her husband’s lips. She couldn’t wait to do this for the rest of their lives.
As the sun sank beneath the horizon, muting the oranges and pinks with gray, Grayson took her hand and tugged her away from the shoreline. “Maybe we should get back to the cottage before it gets too dark out here.”
“Sounds great.” After all, they’d have all week to watch the sunset together.
Their feet hit the boardwalk that lined the shoreline, but neither of them was in a hurry. Out here, a musician played folksy songs on a street corner. Kids ran past with cotton candy and snow cones. A small Ferris wheel lit the landscape with a coziness that made this island feel even more magical, like the setting from a movie.
When it had come time to choose a location for their honeymoon, Rachel had known she had to come here to Lantern Beach. No other place would do. She’d come for healing. For closure. For things to come full circle.
No one would understand that. No one but her . . . then again, no one else needed to understand. She wanted to keep it that way.
The crowds thickened for a minute, and Rachel turned to watch a teen on rollerblades hurry past. As she did, her shoulder bumped into someone. She quickly snapped her head forward, an apology on her lips.
“I’m so sorry—” But Rachel’s eyes widened at the familiar figure she saw standing there.
The person staring back at her mirrored Rachel’s surprised expression—but his surprise quickly turned to outrage. The thirty-something man visibly stiffened, and his nostrils flared as heat-filled eyes bore into Rachel.
“You . . .” the man muttered.
“Bruno . . . what . . . ?” Rachel couldn’t even get her words out.
Running into this man was like a scene from her nightmares. Why in the world was Bruno here in Lantern Beach? What could have gone so cosmically wrong in the world to bring both of them together here at this exact moment?
Time slowed as she stared at him. Bruno hadn’t changed since she’d seen him two years ago. He still had long, dark hair and the shadow of a beard, giving him a bad boy vibe. His tall, muscular build only made him more intimidating.
“I never thought you’d show your face around here again.” Bruno’s eyes narrowed with di
spleasure as he spit the words out. No, it was more than displeasure. His gaze was filled with hate. “You have a lot of nerve.”
Rachel took a step back, wanting an escape, an out.
But Grayson’s arm snaked around her. A concerned expression captured his face as he glanced from her to Bruno. He had no idea what was going on here.
No idea.
But that was about to change.
He was never one to back down from a confrontation, and Rachel knew he wouldn’t let someone talk down to his wife like that.
A cry lodged in Rachel’s throat. Why was this happening? Why did happiness always seem to get jerked out from beneath her just when she began to feel comfortable?
“You know each other?” Grayson asked, his gaze flicking back and forth.
Rachel swallowed hard, not wanting to answer. But she had no choice. “Bruno is . . . Mark’s brother.”
“Mark? Your former fiancé?” Grayson’s eyes widened in realization. “I see. I’m . . . sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” Bruno glanced at Rachel’s hand.
Rachel quickly covered her wedding ring, not because she was ashamed, but because she wanted to avoid any possible ugliness. Anything that would ruin her perfect moment.
Never in a million years had she expected to see this man here in Lantern Beach.
It was too late to prevent any of the damage that was about to be done.
Bruno had seen her wedding ring. Had put the pieces together. And vengeance rose off the man like heat waves from the pavement on a one hundred-degree day.
Bruno turned toward Grayson, fire dancing in his eyes. “You’re the one who’s going to be sorry. You better pray she doesn’t do the same thing to you that she did to my brother.”
“What?” Grayson muttered, his voice climbing with shock.
“You’ll see.” With that, Bruno stomped away, muttering things under his breath.
Rachel glanced around. People had stopped to stare but quickly returned to their own business. The scene had started quickly and ended quickly.
She could be thankful for that, at least.
Her hesitant gaze met Grayson’s, and Rachel saw the questions there.
“What was that about?” He held on to her elbow, not moving.
Rachel swallowed hard, still flustered from the confrontation. “It’s . . . it’s a long story.”
“What did he mean by ‘you better pray she doesn’t do the same thing to you that she did to my brother’?”
Rachel squeezed her eyes shut for a minute. She’d tried to put all of that behind her. To forget about what had happened. About the speculation surrounding the tragedy of Mark’s death.
But the past always caught up with you, she supposed. Rachel had been a fool to think it wouldn’t.
She blinked back tears as she glanced up at her newly minted husband. Rachel couldn’t keep this secret any longer. But she knew the aftermath of that damage might leave their relationship beyond repair. And this beautiful afterglow in the wake of their wedding would fade to black.
“We need to talk.” Her voice came out just above a whisper. “Back at the house. Please.”
Grayson stared at her another moment, studying her expression, before nodding. “Okay, let’s go then.”
Chapter Three
Tension crackled between Rachel and Grayson as they walked to the cottage. Gone was the lightheartedness from earlier—the teasing, the flirting, the dreaming about the future.
Grayson already missed the easygoing rapport, but he couldn’t pretend that the incident on the boardwalk hadn’t just happened. That man had been angry . . . shocked . . . livid.
Grayson couldn’t imagine Rachel ever making someone that angry. She was too sweet. Too kind. Too radiant. He couldn’t even imagine her hurting an insect, for that matter.
The worst side of her that he’d ever seen was a brief moment of jealousy when he’d been working with another reporter on an assignment once—a pretty reporter. But that conflict had been quickly resolved after just a conversation.
And that was why his head spun right now.
He’d hoped that nothing would ruin his honeymoon. In fact, Grayson had spent days planning everything, trying to ensure this getaway would be perfect. This hadn’t been on his schedule.
They stepped inside the small, oceanfront cottage. Duplicate cottages stretched on either side of them, most filled with outdated furnishings and builder’s grade finishes. In other words, the accommodations were nothing fancy. People stayed in them for the view of the water and nothing else.
Rachel’s parents had offered to pay for something nicer, larger, but Grayson had refused. He wanted to pay for this honeymoon himself and not take any of the money offered to him.
He liked to pay his own way, believing it made a person appreciate things more. Grayson didn’t make a ton of money as a reporter, but he was doing what he loved. That was the most important thing, and Rachel agreed with him. It was another reason he loved her.
He closed the door and looked over at Rachel as she dropped onto the couch, her body still stiff. He hated to see her pale skin and trembling limbs. Grayson couldn’t imagine how she was going to explain that earlier confrontation, but she was obviously upset by it.
Did that mean there was some truth in that man’s words? The pit in his stomach grew deeper.
He observed her a moment, love ebbing through his heart like the tide across the shore. He’d never fallen in love with someone like he’d fallen in love with beautiful Rachel. Rachel with her petite figure, her bright smile, and her curly brown hair that fell halfway down her back, free and unencumbered. He’d known from the moment they first met that he wanted to marry her.
Grayson sat beside her and took her soft hand into his. “What’s going on, Rachel?”
She wiped beneath her eyes with her free hand, even though he didn’t see any tears there.
“As you heard, that was . . . that was Mark’s brother,” Rachel started. “Mark, my fiancé who . . . died.”
Was the world really this small that the two of them would run into each other here? Grayson held the question at bay, still waiting to hear more of what Rachel had to say.
“I had no idea he would be here after what happened,” she finally continued. “His family lived in Charlotte.”
“Wait . . . did Mark die here on Lantern Beach?” Grayson’s voice caught. The question sounded preposterous. But . . . what other conclusion could he draw?
Rachel nodded, tears now falling across her cheeks and dripping below her chin. “He did. I know it seems weird that I would pick this place after that happened, but . . . I just saw it as a way of healing.”
Grayson shifted, hating the uncomfortable sensation in his gut. Despite the feeling, he didn’t let go of her hand. Certainly Rachel had a good explanation.
Because Mark’s death had been an accident. Why had that man made it sound otherwise?
“I thought Mark died because he was pulled out into the ocean in a rip current?” Grayson tried to recall what Rachel had told him. He didn’t want to make any assumptions—assumptions never did anyone any favors. As a reporter, he knew that better than most.
Rachel had told him about her previous engagement before saying yes to Grayson’s rather quick proposal—they’d dated for six months. She’d told him he deserved to know.
Grayson had left it at that and had ignored his instincts to do more digging. There was a time and a place for that—and marriage wasn’t one of those places to run a background check. At least, it wasn’t for Grayson.
“He did die after being dragged out to sea in a rip current.” Rachel sniffled, her body bent from what appeared to be carrying the weight of bad memories. “But some people still pointed at me and thought I had something to do with it. I didn’t, Grayson. I would never do something like that. Please believe me.”
He shook his head, still not understanding the logic of it all. “But that doesn’t make sense. If Mark died in a rip
current, then how could you possibly be responsible?”
“I wasn’t.” Rachel’s eyes implored him to believe her. But there were still a few things that didn’t make sense.
“But Mark’s brother thinks you are responsible,” he said, careful to keep his voice unaccusatory. “Why does he think that?”
Rachel swung her head, a deep frown burrowing onto her skin. She buried her face for a minute, rubbing her hands over her eyes, and then straightened. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“How about from the beginning? Why were you here on Lantern Beach?”
She dragged in a deep breath. “Mark and I were going to get married here, so we came for the weekend to confirm some plans. We had a venue picked out—the beach—and we even knew where the reception would take place. But I needed to work out flowers and music and a cake, and so on.”
“But Mark wasn’t from the island, right? You said his family was from Charlotte.”
Everything Rachel was saying still didn’t make sense. Grayson hadn’t really asked a lot of questions about her former fiancé, figuring it wasn’t overly important. He hoped that hadn’t been a mistake. By instinct, he had a tendency to go into interview mode, but he tried to keep that out of his personal life.
Rachel shook her head. “No, which is why it’s so weird that his brother is here now. But . . . anyway, Mark and I rented this little two-bedroom cottage. The trip was too far for us to do it in one day.”
“Okay . . .”
“That night Mark and I had an argument. It was over something so stupid—which place we should use for the flowers. I actually wanted something simple. He thought we should go big.”
“You had a disagreement or a fight?” he clarified.
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