Don't Promise (Don't 3)

I filled the coffee pot and poured the water into the tank in the back. Within minutes the kitchen smelled like fresh-brewed coffee. I inhaled a cup while I sat at the bay window, looking out over the sound.

He had stolen so much from me that day. What was worse were the seeds of doubt he had sprouted in me about my family.

I knew exactly what he had tried to imply. That Aunt Lindy wasn’t my biological aunt. That the entire story of how I ended up on this island was just that—a story—another ghost tale passed down to a scared child.

He stole my courage that day. I had never asked Aunt Lindy the truth. I didn’t want to know, even though in some deep crevice of my heart I did. But it wasn’t any of his damn business. He had no right to throw that in my face, or undercut my aunt. All she had ever done was love me.

I sat at her table, surrounded by her things. All I could think about was when she’d sat in the front row of church for the Christmas pageant. How she’d stitched my fairy Halloween costume together by hand. She had tried to teach me to bake and the art of making sun tea. She showed me the best times to find sand dollars on the Cape and how to coax a hermit crab out of its shell. During the summer, she helped me line the bookshelf in my room with fireflies in Mason jars. We would always let their sluggish bodies out in the morning.

I felt the well of tears.

Somewhere in this house I would find the answers. My history was here.

But it was never up to Roger Wyatt to hand me those answers. Never.

Things could have been so different if I hadn’t left. If I hadn’t been a scared little pregnant girl.

But that man had scared the hell out of me.

I put the mug down. Maybe it was time I paid him a visit.

I grabbed my bag and keys and drove toward Roger Wyatt’s house.

12

Blake

I heard wheels crunching over the gravel and stepped out onto the porch to see who was pulling up the drive. I had a hot cup of coffee in my hands.

It was Sierra. I felt the jolt between my ribs.

She stepped from the car. “Good morning.”

“How’s your head?” I grinned. She looked fucking adorable. Her blond hair fell over her shoulders. She was wearing cut off shorts, so short that if she bent over I’d see my favorite slice of heaven. My dick hardened instantly. She was a damn she-devil that one. All she had to do was show up and instantly I wanted to kiss her until I had her stripped bare. I wanted to kiss her lips, her tits, her sweet skin and her legs all the way to that honey-soaked paradise.

“Are you staying here?” she asked. “Is this where you are for the summer?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

She looked confused. I saw her eye the boat barn.

“I actually wasn’t expecting to see you. I came to talk to your dad, but maybe another time would be better.” She stepped back toward the driver side.

“Hey, wait.” I jogged down the stairs. She stopped. “That’s going to be nearly impossible, darlin’.”

“Why?”

“My dad died three months ago.”

Her hand flew to her mouth. “What? I hadn’t heard.”

I shoved my hands in my front pockets. “Yeah. Heart attack while he was running the sander. Uncle Billy found him.?

??

Her eyes softened. “I’m sorry, Blake. Really I am.”

“Thanks.”