His Kindred Spirit

by Sloan Johnson

  Brook nudged my foot as he passed me, then reached into the mailbox for one of the notebooks. I was equally hopeful and terrified he’d pull the one I’d written in this morning. When the sun just barely reached the horizon, it’d seemed like a perfect plan, but now, I wondered what I’d do if he grabbed the wrong notebook and didn’t see what I’d written in those pages.

  “You okay?”

  “Want it to be over with, that’s all,” I admitted. Until Dad pulled into the parking lot with Grady and Jen, I wasn’t sure I’d believe his transfer request had been approved. I’d foolishly gotten my hopes up that he’d be allowed to move as soon as he was released, but I’d learned it wasn’t nearly that easy. We’d all been under the microscope while his parole officer decided whether to allow him to move closer to his family. Every time there was a delay, Dad grew more despondent, feeling as if he’d never free himself from his conviction for a crime he didn’t commit.

  Brook plopped down next to me and draped his arm over my shoulder, hugging me tight to his side. “I know you’re used to being let down, but I thought you’d promised to leave that part of you behind.”

  “I know, but they’ve jerked him around so damn much. I want him here with us. What if something happened and they couldn’t leave New York?”

  My stomach knotted as my mind started down the dangerous what-if trail again. What if Dad’s parole officer knocked on the door and told him there’d been a clerical error? What if Dad changed his mind and couldn’t be so close to his brother? He’d been as angry with James as the rest of us when we’d explained how Jen, Grady, and I had become partners in the inn, but without Brook’s calming force to help him through the emotions, Dad hadn’t been as understanding as I’d been.

  James was one of the two things we fought about since his release. Dad didn’t understand how Jen, Grady, and I could possibly keep my uncle on at the inn in a diminished capacity. In his mind, if James was willing to risk it all once, he’d do it again. I’d felt the same at first, but the more I’d gotten to know my uncle, the more I believed he was a desperate man with zero critical-thinking skills. Jen and Grady had agreed, and they’d been the ones to suggest we offer James a position greeting guests and puttering around the property. The one thing we all agreed on was he wasn’t allowed anywhere near the money.

  “You’re going to give yourself an ulcer if you keep that up,” Brook warned me. He wrapped his arms tightly around my middle after tossing the notebook on the ground, then turned to wedge one of his knees between my legs. I fell back without any resistance as Brook started kissing me, my libido coming to life as I thought about the shower we’d both need later to wash off the powder-fine sand. He broke the kissing and tugged one hand free to brush the hair from my face. “Grady called right before I came out to find you. They’re about two hours away. Everything’s fine.”

  “But what if—”

  Brook pressed his finger against my lips to silence me. “No. No more. In a few hours, everyone’s going to be here. You’re going to get your dad settled into his room while I go pick up my grandpa, and we’re going to have lunch in our suite so we can get the whole introductions thing out of the way.”

  “What if they don’t like one another?”

  Brook pursed his lips and quirked an eyebrow, reading between the lines of my question. He knew I worried about his grandfather judging my dad based on the little bit he knew. Logically, I knew that’d never happen, but it was important to me that those closest to us got along.

  “Are you kidding me? Grandpa’s already planning on being your dad’s one-man welcoming committee, there to answer any and all questions he might have about Sunset Beach. He won’t admit it, but he’s been lonely since I officially moved in with you, so it’ll be good for him to have something to make him feel needed.”

  I hummed, closing my eyes as Brook continued stroking my hair. This was why I fell so hard for him; he’d somehow always known what I needed to hear. He settled me. I was nearly asleep when my eyes shot open, my brain processing what he’d said. They’re about two hours away. Shit. That didn’t leave us time to lie out here enjoying the still of the morning.

  I pushed against Brook’s shoulder, forcing him to sit up. As I did, I glanced to the side to see if the Kindred Spirits were on my side this morning. They were. He’d gone against his tendency to pull a notebook from the bottom of the stack, as if he knew the words he was meant to read aloud this morning were in the top book.

  I pushed myself up the dune, leaning against the bench, and Brook settled between my legs, flipping through the pages to find the note that called to him. I held my breath, resisting the urge to snatch the pages out of his hands and turn to the words that’d played on a constant loop in my mind as I’d walked out here this morning. Then I worried about him thinking it was cheesy and impersonal, and wanted to steal the book and rip out the pages before he could read them, but that’d be an even greater offense in his mind. As far as Brook was concerned, the words given to the Kindred Spirits were sacred and you never tried to take them back.

  He was an odd man, but somehow I was lucky enough to call him mine. Brook’s body tensed in my arms, and without opening my eyes, I knew he’d found my note.

  “Wha—what’s this?” he stammered.

  “Read it,” I responded, and pressed my lips to his temple. His brow furrowed. I jerked my head toward the notebook, urging him to continue. His breathing grew shallow as he silently took in the note I’d left for him. As much as I wanted to hear him read my words, I wasn’t sure I’d make it to the end without my emotions getting the better of me.

  Almost a year ago, I reluctantly agreed when my dad asked me to come down here to meet my long-lost uncle. What neither of us could’ve known that day was how much my life would change once I got here. I found my family, but I found something more. I found myself.

  I didn’t want to come here. I couldn’t wait to leave. But then someone came along who showed me that I didn’t have to be alone. When I asked him to show me his favorite place in town, I had no idea he’d force me to walk to a mailbox at the end of the beach. I didn’t understand what made this place so special. As he read notes left by people we’d never meet, the walls I’d carefully built to keep everyone out started to crumble.

  Now, I know a force greater than any of us drew me here. Drew me to him.

  Today, the rest of my family will be here, but I still won’t be complete. Almost, but not quite. That sense of being whole will happen when we stand in front of our friends and family, promising to spend the rest of our lives walking hand in hand down this beach. But first, he has to say yes.

  Brook lurched, flipping around between my legs so he was kneeling in front of me. “Is this for real?”

  I nodded, tears streaming down my face, unable to speak around the lump in my throat. I’d never expected to feel this visceral need to tie myself to another person, but now, I wanted nothing more than to be anchored to Brook forever. He reached up and swiped away my tears with his thumb.

  “When?” he asked softly. His question wasn’t the response I’d expected, and I had no clue what he was asking. Brook laughed and kissed the tip of my nose. Such a simple gesture shouldn’t have warmed me the way it did. “If I say yes, when would you want to get married?”

  “Would tonight be too soon?” I knew it wasn’t possible, but I didn’t want to wait. I wanted the world to know I belonged to him.

  Brook laughed again, shaking his head. “Tonight would be perfect, but maybe we should set a date so we have time to plan a proper wedding.”

  “Brook, you should know by now there’s nothing proper about me,” I scoffed, reverting to self-deprecating humor.

  He shook his head, releasing a frustrated sigh.

  “Fine. We’ll set a date, but it has to be before the summer rush hits. You’re it for me, and I don’t want to wait. I don’t need anything fancy, only you.”

  “You have me. Always.” He sealed the promise I needed t
o hear with a firm kiss. When he pulled away and stood, the absence left an ache in my heart. “Now let’s go home and get ready for the day. I have a feeling Jen’s going to flip once we tell everyone we’re getting married.”

  “You still haven’t said yes,” I reminded him as we threaded our fingers together and started the long walk back to the inn.

  “That’s because you still haven’t asked the question,” he quipped.

  My steps faltered. He was right; I’d screwed this all up.

  I turned Brook to face me, debating whether I should drop to one knee. It was what a guy was supposed to do, but it felt forced and unnatural. Besides, I wanted to look into his eyes as I asked him to marry me. I swallowed hard, wishing I’d spent some time crafting a proposal worthy of this man. In the end, it didn’t matter. He knew me, knew romance wasn’t really my thing.

  “Brook, in the past year, you’ve changed me. You showed me love is worth the risk. You’re my heart, my kindred spirit, my family. And I want to make it official. My grandfather came here to build his legacy, and now I want us to build ours on his foundation. I want to wake up to salty kisses when you come back from early mornings in the water and fall asleep in your arms listening to the waves of the ocean. This beach has become everything to me, but it’s nothing without you. Will you marry me?”

  It was stupid, but I held my breath as I awaited his answer. He’d jumped straight to planning the wedding after he’d read my note, so it was unlikely he’d say no. Still, I needed the word. Needed the confirmation.

  “Nothing would make me happier. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

  As we kissed, I offered up a prayer of thanks to the kindred spirits who came before us. I looked forward to working with Brook to spread the word, to help everyone know there was someone out there who’d listen.

  SLOAN JOHNSON is a big-city girl trapped in a country girl’s body. While she longs for the hustle and bustle of New York City or Las Vegas, she hasn’t yet figured out how to sit on the deck with her morning coffee, watching the deer and wild turkeys in the fields, while surrounded by concrete and glass.

  When she was three, her parents received their first call from the principal asking them to pick her up from school. Apparently, if you aren’t enrolled, you can’t attend classes, even in kindergarten. The next week, she was in preschool, and started plotting her first story soon after.

  Later in life, her parents needed to do something to help their socially awkward, uncoordinated child come out of her shell and figured there was no better place than a bar on Wednesday nights. It’s a good thing they did because this is where she found her love of reading and writing. Who needs socialization when you can sit alone in your bedroom with a good book?

  By Sloan Johnson

  His Kindred Spirit

  Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS

  www.dreamspinnerpress.com

  Published by

  DREAMSPINNER PRESS

  5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA

  www.dreamspinnerpress.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  His Kindred Spirit

  © 2019 Sloan Johnson.

  Cover Art

  © 2019 Brooke Albrecht.

  http://brookealbrechtstudio.com

  Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

  All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or www.dreamspinnerpress.com.

  Digital ISBN: 978-1-64405-119-1

  Digital eBook published March 2019

  v. 1.0

  Printed in the United States of America