View With Your Heart (Heart Collection #5) - L.B. Dunbar Page 0,3

loosely, use the spaces for rental profit as it’s the only place of its kind on this lake. The only other spot with short-term, small space rentals is the local motel up the highway.

A different hotel in the opposite direction comes to mind.

A balcony railing. A hotel desk. A king-sized bed.

Quickly, I rid the thought. It was a lifetime ago—unlucky thirteen years.

Have they really all been unlucky years?

I’d split the difference fifty-fifty.

Life. Death.

Change. Choice.

A lot has happened in the past thirteen years, luck or not.

Still looking at the building, I notice a man sitting on a third-floor balcony. Shielding my eyes, I stare up at him. He has dark hair with a light covering of facial hair in a similar shade. My breath catches a moment, and then I chuckle to myself.

It isn’t Gavin.

A silly game I play with myself is seeing Gavin in every man with dark waves and a trimmed beard.

The man on the balcony waves toward the beach, and I feel even sillier when I think he’s waving at me. I’m the only one down here on this quiet evening, but he could be greeting a boater off in the distance. Boaters are friendly like that, waving at everyone as they pass. My attention draws to the sports hut to the side of the condo building, and I see Gee speaking with Theo. I wave to my son, and Gee tips his head. His twelve-year-old self is too big for his britches some days. The head tip is a new thing he’s learned from his older cousin. Theo is seventeen.

While I wait for Gee, I take a final look up at the man three stories up, feeling as if he’s watching me. While he can’t be Gavin, my body still hums with the possibility of Gavin Scott being in the vicinity. The buzz is a mix of trepidation and thrill. How great would it be to see him again? How awful could it be?

Very awful. The awfulest of awful moments in the history of anything awful.

It cannot happen, and I have one main reason why.

Gee runs toward me, breaking up the anxiety rising within me, and I pull my attention away from the balcony. I extend an arm for my son, motioning for him to step into my embrace.

“Hey, Mom,” he says, falling against me as I wrap my arm around him.

“Hey, handsome. Have fun today?” I press a kiss to his head.

“It was so great. Theo let me help pass out water bottles and life vests. And when it was his break, he gave me a ride on a Jet Ski.”

I smile at Gee’s excitement. He loves the attention of his older cousin, and I’m momentarily sad that he doesn’t have any siblings. It just wasn’t in heaven’s plan for Patrick and me.

“Mom, what do you call a man who surfs between France and England?” Gee begins, and I roll my eyes at the start of what will be a terrible joke.

“A channel surfer,” he states, ruining the punchline before I even attempt an answer.

I laugh despite myself.

“Mom. Watch.” Gee breaks free of me and runs forward, throwing down a wakeboard he had in his hands and skimming on the thin layer of water along the sand. Then he tumbles, catching himself before he does a full face-plant on the beach.

“I meant to do that,” he calls out, throwing his arms dramatically into the air, and I laugh again. He’s such a goof and a genuine lifesaver. I can’t imagine my life without this kid.

As Gee collects his board, I risk a glance over my shoulder, unable to shake the sensation that someone is watching me. My eyes leap to the third-story balcony and notice the man now standing at the railing, elbows casually resting on the top rail. His gaze is definitely in my direction, but I dismiss the possibility of him watching my silly son or me trying to surf the barely visible waves. Whoever he is, he’s simply enjoying the view of an early evening sun resting lower in the sky.

Turning back to Gee, I wonder once again what I’d do if I saw Gavin Scott.

It’s a conversation I’ve had often with myself.

Hey Gavin, great to see you . . . after thirteen years. Insert all the sarcasm.

No, Gavin, I don’t want to ever see you again. Provided he’d even ask if he could see me.

Then I remind myself that Gavin doesn’t know I’m here, and the chances of running into him are