Cape Cod Promises (Love on Rockwell Island 2)

All the same emotions he was feeling for her.

He rubbed a crick in the back of his neck and decided that he needed to talk to Reese. The last thing he wanted was for her to be uncomfortable, but if she was uncomfortable because she still had feelings for him, that was a lot different from being uncomfortable because of bottled-up resentment. Last night, one look from her in the bar had made it clear that she still wanted to rip off his clothes—but however good sex could be, it didn’t equate to love. That Trent knew all too well. Over the years he’d tried to fill the gap Reese had left in his heart, but no one ever came close to her. None of them felt as good in his arms, or made his body hum with a whisper across his skin. No one saw in him the man Reese had once seen. The man who had somehow gotten lost in overtime and ladder climbing.

He placed the file he was holding in a box, wishing he hadn’t gone so many years without reaching out. But the truth was that he hadn’t been ready before now. When Reese had left him ten years ago, he’d been too caught up in making his mark and then in building his own practice. But after spending more time with his family these past weeks, and watching Quinn and Shelley fall in love, he’d finally realized that he was still empty inside.

Trent breathed deeply, trying to clear his mind and feeling as though he’d been duped—by his own damn self. He shook his head with the painful realization, and man, was it hard to accept that this all came down to him. He’d tricked himself into thinking that he was something, and sure, he was the best attorney in his field, but what did that really mean in the long run? He came home to an empty house and distracted himself with work from the only thing—the only person—who could ever really make his world complete. Reese.

He couldn’t blame her for needing space. But what if that was just her way of pushing him away again? What if it was time for them to finally sit down and talk face-to-face about everything that had happened in the past—and everything that was brewing between them now—even if it was uncomfortable?

A memory suddenly flashed through his mind of the day he’d come home and found the note Reese had left when she’d gone back to the island. Because she couldn’t even look him in the eyes and tell him she was done.

Obviously clear communication was something they’d needed to work on in the past. Then again, they were just kids back then, weren’t they? Could they do better now as adults who had some life lessons and experience under their belts?

As a lawyer, Trent had honed his ability to separate truth and facts from obtrusive issues. He’d thought he’d been equally as good at interpreting his relationship with Reese.

But he’d been wrong. So wrong that he’d lost the person most important to him in the world. The only woman he’d ever loved.

Trent rose to his feet, running a frustrated hand through his hair as he mentally prepared for the biggest case of his life. His plea for Reese’s forgiveness—and a second chance with the woman he’d loved since she was nineteen years old.

* * *

AN HOUR LATER, Trent was sitting in a conference room at the resort, meeting with his family. His father never sat at the head of the table, and today was no different. Griffin and Abby sat side by side, holding hands, and his parents’ ever-present love and their respect for each other made Trent long for Reese even more.

“We should be able to finish the little we have left to get Shelley’s café ready to open over the next two weeks, then bring in a painting crew to finish up, which shouldn’t take more than a couple days at most,” Quinn said. “The opening is in less than three weeks, and assuming everyone’s work is on schedule, we should make it with a day or two to spare.”

“I’m almost done with the shelves. One more night is all I need,” Trent said.

“Derek and I will finish the attic work this week, too.” Ethan was Trent’s youngest brother, and with his dark hair tousled from his early-morning fishing trip, he looked a hell of a lot more carefree than the rest of them.

“Shelley and I have curtains we want to put up,” Sierra said, “but of course that will wait until after the painters come in.”

“And since I’m having lunch with Darla this week,” their mother added, “I’ll have her put Shelley’s grand opening on Chandler’s calendar.” Darla Collins was their grandfather’s personal secretary, and she and Abby had been friends for a long time.