Lighthouse Way (Huckleberry Bay 1)

“…see you later.”

“Thanks,” I manage to reply. “I’ll be in touch.”

I hope I’m responding correctly. I don’t even know what they said.

Or who said it.

Finally, when they’re out the door, I stumble to the freezer for the ice pack and then make it to the couch in the living room before I fall down, pressing the pack to my pounding head.

And, just that fast, I’m reminded why I’ve lost everything that matters to me. Why I can’t be home in Monaco. Why I can’t race.

Why I’m in this shithole my parents left to me.

“Wolfe?”

Shit.

I crack open one eye and make out a figure, but I don’t know who it is.

“Go away.”

“June forgot her tape measure, and I—God, Wolfe, what can I do to help?”

Luna. Jesus, I don’t want her to see me like this.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

She touches my shoulder, and it’s agony. I can’t be touched. Everything hurts.

“Go.” I don’t know if I yell or whisper it. “Just go the fuck away.”

She must do as I ask because she doesn’t touch me again. Suddenly, the house is quiet around me as I writhe in agony, willing the pain to stop. Battling not to throw up.

It lasted three hours. By the time the headache cleared, I was so exhausted, I just fell asleep and didn’t surface until this morning.

I’m still foggy from it, but at least the pain is gone, and I can function again.

The scariest part of these damn migraines is that they come out of nowhere.

But I absolutely hate that Luna was there. I couldn’t do anything in that moment, and in the light of a new, pain-free day, I feel bad for how I spoke to her.

It’s another beautiful day as I walk up the road to the lighthouse, and I’m relieved to see Luna’s car in the driveway when I approach the house and ring the doorbell.

The door opens a few seconds later, but Luna’s instant welcoming smile immediately falls.

Yeah, I hurt her feelings.

“I brought flowers,” I begin and hold up a bouquet of yellow roses. “They reminded me of you.”

She eyes the blooms and then looks up at me. She still hasn’t smiled, and that’s not like her.

“Are you okay?”

I swallow hard, take a deep breath, and nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Good.” Her expression doesn’t change, but she takes the flowers from me, and I don’t feel like such a big jerk. “I’m glad you’re okay. You didn’t have to buy me flowers.”

“Yeah, I did. I didn’t mean to be so short with you, and I’m sorry.”

She sighs, and if I’m not mistaken, she softens just a bit.

“Come in,” she says and steps back to let me inside. “I was just making coffee. Want some?”

“Do you have decaf?” I ask her.

“Sure.”

“Then I’d love some.”

I follow her through the house to the kitchen, surprised by how different it looks from when we were kids.

“What happened yesterday?” Luna asks as she pulls two mugs out of her upper cabinet and gets to work making the coffee. As a cup brews, she arranges some cookies on a plate and sets them on the table. “Have a seat.”

“Do you mind if I stand?”

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t mind.”

“I get migraines out of nowhere,” I say as Luna passes me a mug. “A result of the accident. They’re called crash migraines. I can’t predict them, and they’re a son of a bitch.”

She pours some cream into her mug, gives it a stir, and takes a sip before turning to me.

“I’m so sorry, Wolfe.”

“Yeah, me, too. But I’m mostly sorry that I snapped at you yesterday. I was just desperate to be left alone.”

“I would have helped you,” she says, and it makes me smile.

“I know.” I can’t help it. I have to touch her, so I reach out and fiddle with her hair the way I’ve suddenly become accustomed to doing any time I’m near her. “But there’s really nothing to do except breathe when it happens. That’s about all I can do, anyway.”

Before she can ask more questions, I change the subject.

“I think I have a plan for getting that gorgeous car out of your barn.”

Luna raises an eyebrow. “Really? How?”

“Well, I have to go out and look around a bit, but if June’s going to take down a good portion of the wall behind it, that might be the best route. I can bring out a flatbed truck and pull it up behind the car. With a couple of extra hands, we’ll get it out of there.”

“Here’s hoping it doesn’t fall through the floor while you’re at it,” she says.

“If the floors in all the buildings are so bad, why don’t you replace them?”

“We will. I just haven’t been out in any of them. From what I know, no one has in more than thirty years.”

“Don’t go out there snooping around alone, okay?”