the house to all these people.”
“Been locked up for ages, Tyler.” I don’t miss the worry in Jared’s voice. “You sure you want to open it up again?”
When he says open it up, I get the sense he’s talking about past hurts, not the cabin. “Yeah,” I say, and turn from them as old wounds that have been taped up and closed off, slowly begin to seep. I walk away, not wanting them to see the pain in my eyes. Christ, the last time I stepped foot in the cottage, I was only ten. Sean and Jamie were fourteen and thirteen respectively, out chasing girls and the twins were only seven and with Mom.
A smile touches my mouth as I recall my mom. Jesus, I miss her. Absentmindedly, I cross the road, and head toward Haven as memories bombard me. My mind flashes back to our old man. He was a hard son of a bitch and I don’t know where everyone else is mentally. I only know that Sean and Jamie have mellowed since coming home, but I still harbor a lot of pain, unable to move past the hurts Dad inflicted on me, especially that morning at the cabin after I tried to impress him. I don’t know why I bothered; I was never good enough, could never do anything right by him. So yeah, it’s been a long-ass time since I stepped foot in the cabin, and to be honest, I’m not sure if it has something to do with needing my privacy, or if it’s something I think it’s time I faced.
As I think about that, a small hand lands on my arm and pulls me from my stupor. I blink, and focus in on Haven. Fuck, how am I supposed to protect her when I drift off like that?
I shake my head to clear it, glad she interrupted my trip down memory lane. I don’t want to remember—which makes me question my sanity. I fled the fishing cabin at ten, and never stepped foot in it again. As my head pounds, working hard to push down the memories, I turn my attention to Haven.
“What’s up?”
She eyes me. “Are you okay? You looked like you were a million miles away for a second there.”
I shove my hands in my pocket. “Just a lot on my mind.”
She goes quiet for a second, and nods, and I’m grateful she’s not prying. “You look hot.”
I know what she means, but I grin at her and tease, “You think I’m hot.”
It pulls a laugh from her and lightens my insides. I laugh with her, so at ease around her. I like that. A lot. “How’s it going anyway?”
She tugs her phone from her back pocket. “I’m not needed for about an hour. Want to grab something to eat?”
“Yeah, and how about a swim? It’s a thousand fucking degrees today.”
Her eyes widen, gloriously. “I would love to swim.” She inhales deeply. “Funny, the Atlantic smells different than the Pacific.” I give her a look that suggests she might have been dropped on her head as a child. She laughs and says, “What?”
“You’re kind of a weirdo.”
She whacks me and I capture her hand. “I’m serious. The Pacific is saltier.”
“You’re saltier.”
“How does that even make sense?”
I laugh, and it’s so strange. I grew up in this town, spent my days biking and skateboarding down Main Street, greeting those who summered in Blue Bay. Officer Walker didn’t quite think of it as a greeting though. No, he preferred to call what we were doing, ‘terrorizing the vacationers’, but nah, we were just having fun. I haven’t felt like that kid in a long time.
“It doesn’t make sense,” I say, embracing the childish side of myself.
She shakes her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Are you twelve?”
I pull her to me until our bodies are aligned, meshed. “Want me to prove to you I’m not?”
Heat moves into her face, and it’s not from the sun. “You kind of already did that, and to be honest I’m not opposed to learning that lesson again.”
I laugh out loud at her playful response, and tug on her hand. “Come on. Let’s go jump in the less salty Atlantic.”
She laughs as we take off, and a strange sense of freedom washes over me as we head down the road, walking quickly as we pass through main street, passing by Sugar, the ice cream shop, and Benny’s, the main grocery store.
“Should we grab something to eat?” she asks and