His Kindred Spirit

by Sloan Johnson

  Along the way I explained that the inn was named after the uninhabited island. I expected him to tune out my rambling, but his attention held. I expected him to whine when I told him to take off his shoes and socks, but he leaned against the weathered railing and tucked his socks into the toe of one shoe. Because of how much of my free time I spent at the beach, I knew better than to wear closed-toe shoes. I slid out of my flip-flops and dangled them off my finger. There were still a few early tourists lazing about on the beach, a family building a castle high enough on the beach it wouldn’t be destroyed by high tide in about an hour, and a few locals I recognized out for an evening jog. We passed all of them in companionable silence until it felt as though we were the only people on the island. Eventually Dane asked the question I knew would eventually come.

  “Um, Brook?”

  I stopped, turning to give him my attention, a smirk already forming at the corner of my mouth.

  “Do you have any idea where we’re going?”

  “Not a fan of wandering without a destination?” I teased. His sudden nerves made sense; we were far enough out now that we couldn’t see any signs of life. “Don’t worry, I promise I didn’t bring you out here to chop you into little pieces for fish food.”

  In a brazen act of courage, I reached out and took his hand. He stepped closer, until I was leaning into his side. How many nights had I dreamed of walking along the beach just like this with the man I loved? Except that was still only a dream because we didn’t know each other. It was simply the atmosphere wreaking havoc on our senses. Still, I sank deeper in the warmth, smiled stupidly when his hand slid around to my back.

  “Do you mind me asking where you are taking me, then?” Dane asked.

  I looked up, wishing he’d let his hair down. I’d memorize what it looked like flowing in the breeze, because I would most definitely be jerking off to images of this walk later, and I didn’t want to get a single detail wrong. How I got lucky enough to spend even one chaste evening with someone as drop-dead gorgeous as Dane, I would never know.

  “I’m taking you to my favorite part of town. Maybe my favorite place in the whole state.”

  “Have you traveled around the state enough to know if this place would still be at the top of your list?”

  From others, the jab would’ve cut deep. No, I hadn’t traveled much. There was always something that needed to be done at the shop my parents used to run on the main drag, and after they sold it to buy an RV and travel the country, taking care of Grandpa fell on me. But it didn’t matter; I could’ve seen the entire world and nothing would top the mailbox.

  “Right up there,” I told him, pointing into the distance, off to the left. “If we reach that jetty, we’ll have gone too far. Luckily I know where to stop.”

  “I thought you said this island was uninhabited, some sort of bird sanctuary,” he responded, proving he had listened to my little speech about the importance of the island.

  “It is, but that’s not a house.”

  “Then what is it?” he asked. Lines formed at the corners of his eyes as he squinted to get a better view.

  “It’s a mystery.” It wasn’t a lie either. No one knew for certain how the mailbox had wound up out here, but over the decades, it’d become the whole town’s mission to protect the mailbox. When storms threatened the coast, someone would hike out and remove all but one notebook, tucking the one left behind safely inside a sealed bag. After the weather cleared, the notebooks would reappear. I was trying to convince James to speak with the university, where the unofficial archives from the mailbox were kept, to see if we could have some in the sitting area on loan, but so far, he’d refused to even entertain the idea. He claimed it would take away from the allure of the mailbox, but I was pretty sure there was another reason, one he wasn’t sharing. I’d never trusted James Montgomery, but I kept those thoughts to myself. There was no proof he’d done anything illegal or immoral, and a hunch was no reason to potentially disrupt a man’s life.

  We walked a bit farther, when Dane stopped in his tracks. “Is that… a mailbox?”

  “Sure is,” I responded. My heart raced with anticipation. If he thought this was a stupid idea, it was going to be a long, painful walk back to town.

  “What in the hell’s it doing way out here?” Dane repeated the question that’d been asked thousands of times over the years.

  “No one knows,” I informed him. “No one knows for sure when or how it got out here. There are all sorts of theories among the locals, but it’s our hidden gem that’s not so hidden anymore.”

  “Why’s that?” He led me higher on the beach. It was difficult to walk through the loose sand, but nothing I couldn’t manage. I’d been raised along this shore, took my first steps on the hardpack left by the tides. But that didn’t save me from eternal humiliation when my foot caught just right, folding my ankle on itself. Two things happened in that moment: one, I let out a high-pitched shriek that’d leave me emotionally wounded for the near future, and two, Dane reached out with lightning-quick reflexes, literally sweeping me off my feet. Well, foot, since the other was twisted at an odd angle.

  “Shit, are you okay?” Dane eased me to the ground. When he ran his thick fingers down my calf to cup my ankle in his hand, I stifled yet another squeak. I never tried to play myself as being hypermasculine, but in what I hoped was a new friend’s presence, I didn’t want to come across as stereotypically femme either.

  “I’ll be fine,” I assured him, pointing to the bench less than one hundred yards ahead of us now. “If you can just help me over there, I’ll rest for a bit, and I’ll be good as new.”

  “Brook, it’s gotta be a mile back to the inn from here,” Dane protested. “Nothing personal, but I’m not betting on you being able to walk that far. Maybe we should turn around now. It’ll be easier for me to help you while it’s still light out.”

  “No. You wanted to see my favorite place, so that’s what we’re going to do.” I didn’t bother correcting him that it was over two miles back to the inn. Otherwise he’d have definitely insisted we go back. I turned, pushed off the shifty ground beneath my palms, and hopped around like a lunatic until I felt steady. When my twisted right foot touched the ground, I let out a hiss. Yeah, that was going to hurt for a few days. “Come on. I just need to rest a bit. Besides, the moon is almost full, so it won’t be as dark as you think.”

  “Only if you’re sure.” It was odd how such an imposing man could appear vulnerable and unsure. It was a good look on him. “We can always come back another day.”

  Another day. I liked the sound of that. Loved that in his mind, this wasn’t one night of putting up with his uncle’s employee. “It’s right there, Dane. I’ll be fine.”

  It only took a few tentative steps to realize I most definitely was not fine. Every time I put weight on my right foot, I grunted, hissed, or winced. Dane scooped me into his arms, and I made a good show of pretending to fight him, batting at his chest before allowing my hand to rest on his biceps. And there was plenty there to hold on to. The guy was strong. He ignored my protests, carrying me all the way to the mailbox, climbing the dune, and carefully setting me on the bench. He stripped out of his T-shirt, exposing even more ripples of tanned skin. He was officially trying to kill me.

  He carefully folded the fabric before lifting my foot. “It won’t help much as far as elevation, but at least it’s a bit of padding.”

  “Thanks.” I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. Witty, sexy, and kind: a trifecta guaranteed to turn me on. And I could not get a stiffie while sitting with one leg propped up on the bench.

  “So, what makes this place so special that you wouldn’t turn back even after getting hurt?” He slid me down on the bench as if I weighed nothing. Well, compared to him, I probably did weigh about that much. Still, I loved the way he moved me where he wanted me. He sat next to me, draping his arm over the back of the bench. I leaned into him, sighing as I relaxed against his chest.

  “A
lot of things,” I told him. “I like that you can’t see any buildings from here. Even when there are other people walking around, it’s quiet. And yeah, during the summer, there’s a steady trickle of people coming out to see the mailbox, but nothing like the rest of the beaches.”

  “You mean people actually walk all this way to see an old mailbox?” he scoffed.

  I smacked his thigh.

  “Sorry, I guess I’m a true city boy. I don’t get the appeal of trudging through the sand for a mailbox that looks like a stiff breeze could blow it over.”

  “Then do me a favor,” I said, since my ankle wasn’t throbbing quite as much now that I was sitting down. “Go over there and grab one of the notebooks inside.”

  “Okay.” He drew out the word, pressed on my shoulder so I’d sit up, went across the dune to the box, and grabbed the top notebook from inside the box. “Now what?”

  “Bring it here.”

  He followed my instructions and handed me the book. I’d read most of the letters in this one already, but that didn’t matter. Tonight was about showing Dane why I loved it here. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest. I glanced at the empty seat behind me, cocking my head for him to sit. I couldn’t strain my neck to look at him, and leaning forward like I was wasn’t comfortable.

  “Come on, sit.”

  He did, and I settled back against him, soaking in the warmth of his body despite the fact he was shirtless.

  “This is what makes the mailbox my favorite place, not just in Sunset Beach, but anywhere. For longer than either of us have been alive, this mailbox has been in that exact spot. The box itself has been replaced a few times, but the post has weathered every storm.

  “The people who walk down here all want one thing: they want to feel a connection to the world around them. Every type of note you could imagine has been left in here over the years.” I flipped through the book, looking for a note that wasn’t too somber. I wanted Dane to feel the magic I felt when I came here, and I doubted a bittersweet love note to someone who’d passed away would do the trick. There was a page with precise handwriting and doodles along the margins. I remembered this note, and it was a good one to read aloud, even though there was still a hint of sadness.

  I’m not sure what I did in my life to deserve you, but I wish you were here so I could thank you for everything you’ve given me. Some days, I wish I could hate you for leaving me, but then I remember the smile on your face when you got the call that your dreams were coming true. As I write this, you’re over a thousand miles away, getting ready to take the stage. When you’re done, you’ll call me and tell me how much you miss me.

  Some couples wouldn’t be able to make it through so much time apart, but I know we’ll defy the odds. You’ll come back to me, and when you do, I’ll drop to my knees and beg you to marry me. I have to, because I know you’ll wait forever otherwise. You’ve always looked out for me, but I hope you know I’m okay. Lonely, but content, because you’re out there missing me as much as I’m missing you.

  After I finished the first letter, I glanced over my shoulder. Dane’s eyes were closed, a soft smile peeking out from behind his stubble. He hummed, nudging me to continue. Eventually the last light of day faded. I closed the notebook and asked him to put it back in the stack.

  Until I stood, I’d forgotten all about my jacked-up ankle. Dane turned around, urging me to wrap my arms around his neck. We probably looked ridiculous with him carrying me down the beach, but I didn’t care. I rested my cheek against his shoulder, chatting with him the entire way. When I offered to try walking again, he told me to shut up, but there was no heat behind his words.

  The inn came into view, and a pit formed in my stomach. This was it, the end of our night together. Sure, Dane had mentioned some arbitrary time in the future when we’d get together again, but that was probably an empty promise. He’d been adamant that he had to get home by a specific date.

  He set me down when we reached the base of the steps leading to the back deck. “Can you manage from here?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” My words were tinged with bitterness as I realized I’d been so close to having what I wanted, but the subject of my dreams would soon go back to his real world.

  Dane brushed his fingers along my cheek. When he leaned in as if to kiss me, I ducked away. He might be able to hop from bed to bed, but that wasn’t the way I was wired. I was much better off not knowing what I was missing.

  Before either of us could make life any more awkward, the doors opened, and James sauntered outside. “There you two are. Did you have a good night?”

  “It was great,” Dane responded, looking back at me.

  I held my tongue, suddenly feeling as though we’d been set up.

  Dane squeezed my hand, quickly dropping it. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around.”

  I hadn’t even made it home before regretting the way I’d behaved once we were back at the inn.

  Chapter 5

  (Dane)

  YOU’D THINK all the walking and fresh air would’ve made me sleep like the dead, but you’d be wrong. When my phone rang the morning after dinner with Brook, I could’ve sworn it’d only been a couple of hours since I’d lain down on the luxurious mattress in my room.

  I’d tossed and turned all night, trying to figure out how I’d read Brook so wrong. He’d been fun and flirty all night, until the end, when his face had gone blank and he’d pulled away when I leaned in to kiss him.

  And what in the hell was that all about, anyway? I wasn’t a kisser. I mean, I didn’t have anything against kissing, but it wasn’t part of my standard operating procedure when it came to hookups. Time making out like teenagers was much better spent getting naked and on with the main event. But with Brook, it was different. The stress had melted away as we walked along the beach. I’d enjoyed the way he fit against my side, the little sighs he made when he was happy. When he fell, I wanted nothing more than to take care of him. Hell, I barely recognized myself when we were together, but I wasn’t certain that was a bad thing.

  The phone rang again, and I snatched it off the nightstand. “’Lo?”

  “Did I wake you?” The voice on the other end of the line wasn’t familiar, but the Southern drawl hinted at who it might be.

  “James?”

  “Yes, sorry. Your dad gave me your number when we were writing back and forth.”

  Dad and I would have to chat about him handing out my personal information when he got out.

  “I wanted to apologize for last night and see if you’d like to talk over breakfast.”

  I rolled onto my stomach, pulling the quilt over my head. If I pretended the world didn’t exist, it’d go away, right? Sadly I’d learned long ago that wasn’t the way the world worked. I’d tried that the night Dad was arrested, and everything seemed bleaker when I finally rejoined the world.

  “It’s going to be a while before I’m ready,” I told James, swinging my feet to the floor. A cool breeze carried the sounds of morning through the window I’d left open last night. I stumbled to the coffee maker, cursing that the supplies hadn’t been refreshed. Oh yeah, I was staying in a hotel that wasn’t open yet, which likely meant no one was cleaning and restocking the rooms.

  “Actually, I’m sitting on the back patio, and I brought coffee and pastries.” Life. Saver. I took back all the shitty things I’d thought about James and hurried to yank on a T-shirt. He’d have to deal with my thin cotton lounge pants, because I needed coffee more than I needed to look presentable. And I wanted answers. James currently held everything I wanted most in life in his possession.

  “I’ll be down in just a minute.” I raced through my morning ablutions, grabbed my room key, and practically jogged through the hall. There was no sign of Brook, but it was probably his day off. No reason to work on a Sunday if there weren’t any guests and the renovation crews had the day off.

  I studied James as I crossed the patio. There were hints of my father’s features in his face, b
ut if I’d walked past him on the street, I wouldn’t have assumed the two men were related. I wished I knew which of them took after which of their parents, just as I often wondered where my own features came from. I’d assumed my egg donor, but looking at James, it was obvious I carried some of the Montgomery genetics.

  “Sleep well?” James asked as he handed me a disposable cup of coffee. I typically drank it light and sweet, but I was sleep-deprived enough I didn’t mind drinking it black. When a person traveled as much as I did, spent as much time in generic conference rooms, they got used to taking whatever they were offered.

  “Not really,” I admitted. Deep lines formed across James’s forehead and at the corners of his mouth, so I quickly added, “Believe me, that’s not a slight to the accommodations at all. The room’s amazing. It’s the curse of trying to sleep anywhere other than home. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but it always takes me a few days to get used to a new bed. And by that point, it’s almost time to head to the next city.”

  “That must get old after a while.”

  I shrugged, because yeah, it totally did, but the job paid well and the benefits were out of this world. Hell, soon they’d force me to take a few months off, with pay, because they said sabbaticals helped with employee satisfaction and retention.

  “Have you ever considered a career change? Possibly something that’d give you home time and allow you to settle down somewhere?”

  “Just how much have you and Dad been writing back and forth?” Talking to James felt eerily similar to those days I visited the prison.

  “We’ve been in touch for close to a year now.” James cleared his throat a few times and stared out at the ocean. I couldn’t blame him; it was a spectacular view. But something in his short, jerky movements as he reached for a donut hinted that this conversation wasn’t going to be comfortable for either of us. “I contacted him after our father, your grandfather, passed away. One of my dad’s greatest regrets in life was allowing your grandmother to dictate what all of us did. I’m not one to speak ill of the dead, but she wasn’t a great woman.”