Dirty Summer 8

Epilogue

&n

bsp; Justyn

Justyn looked out over the water. The sun had almost set on another cold November day on the island. There were a few boats skimming the waves, making their way in for the night. He put the truck in reverse, cranked up the heat inside the cab, and made a U-turn out of Shell Point.

There were a few lights glowing at the Buttons house. Daniel and Sally had made it home from their Australian vacation. The clay pots spilled over with purple and gold pansies. Justyn sighed as he passed the house. It would never be the same. He knew as long as he lived, he wouldn’t pass that house without thinking about Blair and that summer. He shook his head and reached for the radio.

He slowed the truck before easing it onto a grassy lane. The grass was mostly brown now except for a few stubborn weeds, which refused to accept summer was long gone. He parked next to the marina office, but left the engine running. It was too cold to start the heating process all over again, and he knew JoBeth would have the oysters ready for him.

“Well, look who’s here.” JoBeth beamed from behind the counter.

“Hey, darlin’.” Justyn strolled to the counter. “Did Willis get my order together?”

“Sugar, you know it.” JoBeth walked out from behind the register and turned to the line of coolers near the door. “How many bushels you need?”

“I think one is plenty.” Justyn withdrew cash from his wallet and placed it on the counter. He grabbed the canvas sack from the island woman’s grasp. “Tell Willis I said thank you. I heard these were his best this year.”

“He’ll appreciate that, Justyn.” She smiled. “Take care, honey.”

Justyn heaved the fifty-pound sack into the bed of the truck and jumped into the cab, ready for the blast of heat. It didn’t matter to him what the temperature reading was on his dash; the cold had settled into all the nooks and crannies of the island. He continued south a few hundred yards. His thumb lightly drummed the top of the steering wheel. He couldn’t help but sing along with The Embers—somehow it made the summer not feel so far away.

He pulled the truck to the sound side of the house. From the windshield, he could see the low glow of a fire on the beach. Good. Reid’s at least got that going.

The oysters had slid to the tailgate. He reached over the side and retrieved the bushel Willis had sacked for him. By now, the sun had settled in the west, and the night sky was cast with glimmering stars and a harvest moon that lit up the entire sound.

“Cuz, what kept you so long?” Reid stood on the beach, poking the orange embers with a long fire stick. He had assembled a long sheet of metal over four stacks of cinderblocks that acted as sawhorses. “This fire has been ready for thirty minutes.” The coals burned two feet under the platform.

Justyn held up the canvas bag. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head. I’ve got the oysters.” He dropped the sack near Reid’s feet and scanned the empty beach. He took a deep breath of the chilled air.

“We have the champagne!” Maggie giggled as she bounded over the grassy yard toward the beach. She held up a green bottle and pointed toward Blair.

“I’m holding the good stuff. We are not smacking Moet into the sea.” Blair smiled at Justyn before his arms wrapped around her, and he buried his head in her shoulder.

“Darlin’, you need to keep me warm tonight.” The words made her purr in his ear.

“Hey, you two. We have serious oyster roasting and boat christening to do tonight.” Maggie wagged her finger at them.

Blair tilted her head to the side. “Really, G, you’re going to lecture us about boat christening?” She winked at her friend, whose jaw dropped.

Justyn chuckled under his breath. Everyone knew how Maggie and Reid liked to christen boats.

Reid slid his arm around Maggie’s waist and pulled her in under his arm. “Hey, tiger.” He kissed the top of her head.

“Hey.”

Justyn watched his cousin and Maggie. They had come a long way since the end of the summer. Hell, they all had. “All right. So what’s the game plan? It’s freakin’ cold out here.”

“This bottle is for drinking and celebrating.” Blair held up the expensive French champagne. “And that one is for the boat.” She pointed to Maggie’s bottle.

“Looks like you two covered all the bases.” Justyn reached for the high-end bottle and unwrapped the foil sealing the cork. He looked at Reid. “And what about the oysters?”

“Ten minutes, tops,” Reid announced as he dumped half of the sack onto the metal sheet. A low hissing noise rose from the table when Reid covered the first round with a heavy canvas.

“Let’s make a toast.” Maggie withdrew glasses from the bag she had brought to the beach, and held them up for Justyn to pour.

“Thanks, G.” He tilted the bottle and filled each glass with the chilled bubbly beverage.