“Yes,” she says softly.
I play with Chloe near the water while Dahlia paces, the ocean wind whipping her hair around. The sun is bright, too bright for the way my chest aches.
She puts the phone on speaker.
Her dad answers with a clipped “Why aren’t you at work?”
I can barely hear him over the waves and try to distract Chloe so she doesn’t hear any of it. She’s singing to herself and splashing in the water, so I don’t think she’s catching any of the conversation.
Dahlia squares her shoulders. “I’m in California. There was a fire in my boyfriend’s surf shop. But that’s no surprise to you, is it?”
The waves are the only sound for a few beats.
Then, he says, his voice so cold that I shiver, “If you’re not back here tomorrow, you’re fired. Don’t bother coming back.”
Her laugh is disbelieving, a heartbreaking sound. “I’ve decided to take another job, Dad.”
I wait, wondering if she’ll tell him she’s decided to work at Windhaven. My dad convinced her it wasn’t a pity offer and that he desperately needed her expertise.
I’m afraid it might take Bruce over the edge even more.
“Did you really think I would ever come back to work for you after what you pulled with Dylan?” she continues. “First threatening him on the boat, and now setting fire to his shop?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” her father snaps. “What lies is he feeding you?”
“Oh, you do know.” Her voice cracks on the last word. “There’s video. Multiple videos. The police have evidence. They know who did it. And guess what, Dad? I recognized the guy from our office. You think I’m not paying close enough attention to what goes on around there, but I don’t miss much.”
He goes quiet again.
I reach for her free hand, and she grips mine like she’s drowning.
“Dad,” she whispers, tears spilling now. “How could you?”
He says nothing.
And then the line goes dead.
She turns and sobs in my arms. I’m certain then that Chloe hasn’t heard anything because she’d be flying to her mama’s side if she heard her crying.
After a few minutes, I whisper Dahlia’s name and lift her chin up to look at me. Her expression is wrecked.
“Dahlia, my sweet love. You’re hurting my heart. You can’t carry the responsibility of this. It’s on your dad and whoever this guy is that did the actual deed. The shop can be rebuilt. No one was hurt. You and me…we’re good. We’re actually pretty goddamn great.”
A laugh chokes out of her, and I brush the tears off her cheeks with my thumbs and lean in to kiss her.
“I love you. A little fire isn’t going to scare me off.”
“Your whole shop is demolished, Dylan,” she says.
I put my hand on her heart and lift her hand to mine. “But this isn’t. And that’s all that matters.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
JUST BREATHE
DAHLIA
It’s mid-afternoon before we’re done with the insurance adjuster. Dylan has thirty days to put together a complete inventory of damaged product, along with receipts, vendor invoices, and wholesale orders to fill in the gaps. We’re wearing masks, but the smell of smoke is still thick, forcing Dylan and Rudy outside for frequent breaks. Chloe and I have stretched out on a blanket, occupying ourselves with buckets and shovels in the sand.
