“I told you not to go walking so far,” Becky said, shooting an accusatory look at Grace. “Mom is going to be so mad when she finds out.”
“Why is your mother going to be so...” Another voice, one Holt recognized with a jolt of shock, cut through the room.
Carmen Grant stood in the doorway, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. She looked older, her dark hair now streaked with silver, but her eyes were just as sharp and assessing as they’d been thirty-eight years ago. Those eyes immediately darkened and narrowed when they focused on him.
“What are you doing here?” Carmen’s voice was flat, unwelcoming.
“Aunt Carmen?” Grace said, confusion evident in her voice. “This is Tyler’s...”
“I know who he is,” Carmen interrupted, then her gaze shifted to June on the couch. She dropped her purse and coat on a cabinet and rushed forward. “June.”
“We were walking on the beach,” Grace began.
“I told her not to go so far,” Becky talked over her sister. “But she wouldn’t listen, and then...”
“June passed out,” Holt explained through the chaos of the two girls. “I helped Grace bring her inside.”
“Thank you,” Carmen said, standing and turning to face him. Her expression and rigid posture made it clear that his assistance was no longer needed or wanted. “We appreciate your help.”
“I’d like to know if June is okay,” Holt said, standing his ground despite the obvious dismissal.
“She will be,” Carmen replied curtly.
“Gran was in a really bad car accident about three weeks ago,” Becky said, her innocent concern cutting through the adult tension in the room.
Shock waves vibrated through Holt’s chest. “What?”
“June is fine, and she’s healing,” Carmen said firmly, positioning herself between Holt and the couch. “She probably just overdid the walk on the beach.”
“I’d like to know if she’s okay,” Holt insisted, taking a step forward.
“She will be,” Carmen repeated, her voice brooking no argument.
“I’m going to get Gran some water,” Grace said awkwardly, clearly sensing the tension between the adults. “Come on, Becky.”
“But I want to...” Becky started.
“Come.” Grace’s voice carried the authority of an older sister accustomed to managing family crises.
She dragged her reluctant sister from the room, leaving Holt and Carmen facing each other across decades of history and hurt.
“I just want to know that June is okay,” Holt said quietly.
“I’m sure she will be,” Carmen repeated. “And if you leave, I can check her over properly.”
Holt stared at her for a long moment, recognizing the protective steel in her voice that had always been there when it came to her younger sister. Finally, he nodded.
“Tell June I’m sorry if I startled her,” Holt said.
“I’ll tell her,” Carmen said.
Holt saw himself out, pausing on the porch to look back at the house where June was slowly returning to consciousness. He could hardly believe he’d just run into her in the same town where they’d first met all those years ago. It felt like fate coming full circle, though he wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse.
The walk back to the lighthouse cottage was longer than he’d anticipated, and by the time he reached the lighthouse, Holt was breathing hard and feeling lightheaded. He looked down at his shirt and cursed under his breath. A dark stain was spreading across the white fabric.
He must have pulled some stitches when he’d caught June.
“Holt?” His mother’s voice carried concern as she met him at the front door. “What happened to your shirt?”
