“Sometimes there are things worth missing, like what’s going on outside. It’ll make you sad.”
“How do you know? Have you been before?”
Brooklyn shook her head. “No, but I imagine they talk about Austin.”
“Maybe that’s what I need. It’s what she needs.” She turned toward the staircase and yelled for Brystol.
“Yes, Nonnie?”
“Sweetie, some of your father’s friends are having a little party outside—would you like to go with me?”
Brystol stared from her grandmother to her mother. Brooklyn sighed, feeling defeated. “We’ll go for a little bit.”
Carly clapped her hands together before she hugged Brooklyn. Without thinking, she smiled. Maybe Carly was right, and they needed this. It could be the closure the family needed.
Before they ventured to the beach, Brooklyn made sure she had a couple of bottles of water for Carly. With Simone in tow, they walked through the backyard and started down the wooden staircase leading to the beach. In a matter of seconds, Brystol was on the beach with her knees in the sand and Luke licking her to death. Brooklyn felt her heart drop to her stomach. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to see the people she’d abandoned.
However, it was too late to turn back now. Her eyes slowly found the bonfire, and with it, the faces of those she had left behind all staring at her. She swallowed hard, and she stood there, taking in each and every glare. Everyone looked the same to her. She hadn’t forgotten a single one of them.
She had turned to go back to the stairs when someone grabbed her hand. She glanced down at the manicured hand and followed the arm up until she met the soft eyes of Monroe. “Don’t leave,” she said, motioning toward the bonfire.
“I shouldn’t be here,” Brooklyn mumbled, and Monroe let go of her. “It’s one thing to see everyone at the bar, but here . . .”
Carly came toward her and slipped her hand into Brooklyn’s, tugging her along as she walked toward the group. Brooklyn thought about fighting her but shuffled her feet forward reluctantly.
“Mrs. Woods, here, have my seat.” Jason Randolph stood and held out his hand, helping Carly to a spot on the log. He then turned to Brooklyn and pulled her into a strong, welcoming hug. “It’s so good to see you,” he said to her.
“You too.” They pulled away and studied each other. “What are you up to these days?”
He smiled so widely Brooklyn couldn’t help but do the same. “I’m a doctor. Just finished my residency at Mass General.”
“That’s awesome, Jason.”
“Bowie told me what you do. I looked at your website; it’s incredible. My fiancée is always watching those home makeover shows and taking notes.”
“Thanks. I like it.”
“And you have a daughter?”
She glanced toward Brystol and Luke.
“Stop hogging her,” Monroe said, pulling Brooklyn away from Jason. “We have lots of catching up to do.”
Brooklyn followed Monroe over to the bonfire. She sat, keeping her eyes on Bowie. He stared at her intently, and she couldn’t decipher if he was angry that she was there or if something else was going on in his mind.
TWENTY
Every year since Austin had passed, Bowie and his friends had gotten together as if they hadn’t seen each other almost every day. Sometimes all their friends returned, and other times, it was only Monroe, Graham, Grady, and him. This year, though, it was everyone. He was surprised to see Jason trudging through the sand earlier with a case of beer under his arm. He was quickly followed by Mila, who said fifteen was a milestone and that everyone needed to be together. Truthfully, Bowie wanted this gathering to stop. The reminiscing was painful. Grady was evidence of that. And Bowie wanted one year where they, as a group, didn’t sit around and talk about Austin. Even their high school reunions, which, oddly enough, happened every summer as well, were geared toward remembering Austin. Sure, to the town he was a saint, but to Bowie, his best friend was a spoiled, self-centered asshole who didn’t know how good he had it. Still, he had loved Austin, and hated himself for thinking harshly of him.
As Jason hugged Brooklyn, Bowie watched her. He desperately wanted to have his arms around her, to feel her body pressed against his. He missed the days when she would confide in him, when she would come running to him because of something Austin had done. He wished for the days when they were younger, holding hands as they jumped off the rocks and into the river together. He would keep his hands on her waist as they treaded water, acting chivalrous even though Brooklyn was more than capable of staying afloat without his help. It was his excuse to touch her without looking suspicious. Not that Austin was paying attention. There was always a girl or two at the beach with them, flirting any chance they could. It bothered Bowie that Austin would encourage it, that he would act like what he was doing wasn’t a big deal. Bowie knew otherwise. He had spent countless hours consoling Brooklyn, being her confidant, hoping she would leave him. Only she never did.