Lauren had also suggested renting out pier space to local boat owners, and that idea had apparently netted twenty-four thousand dollars over the course of the season. Easy money for the Landrys. Another of Lauren’s ideas that was in the works: resort for a day. Starting next season they would make their property and its equipment available on a limited basis to tourists staying off-site.
It felt great that they were taking her ideas seriously and that they were apparently paying off in spades. Lauren needed that little punch of validation right now because she felt sooff.
She shifted the laundry basket to her other side, and as she neared the building she heard a thumping sound. Someone was playing basketball on the far side of the building.
She entered the facility and set her basket on the dryer. But before she opened the washer, she headed to the window as if drawn by some invisible force.
Standing to the side, she peeked through the curtains. Just as she suspected, Jonah was making use of the court. He wore only a pair of worn jeans and tennis shoes. Her gaze locked on him as he spun, darted, and pivoted with precision borne from years of experience. He hit every shot as he played imaginary foes. His muscles rippled across his back as he came up for a hook shot, grabbed the rebound, pivoted, and put up another.
Sweat gleamed off the defined ridges of his abdomen and the honed curves of his biceps. He was lean and fit and more muscular than she’d realized. His calves bulged on a jump shot, and his thighs flexed as he juked one invisible opponent, then dodged another. He scrambled toward the basket and jumped for a dunk. The ball went through the net and hit the pavement with awhump.
She’d been so busy admiring Jonah’s skill—and his physique—she didn’t notice anything amiss until he braced his hands on his knees, breath heaving. Until the sunlight, dappling the court, glimmered off his face. At first she thought it was sweat.
But no. Tears trickled from his eyes, running in rivulets down his face. His jaw was clenched, his eyes closed, as if against some unseen agony. She’d never seen him this way. It was so different from the confident, judgmental Jonah she remembered. So vulnerable and... broken.
Lauren’s heart gave a painful squeeze because she knew without a doubt—shehad caused this.
It was her fault he was hurting like this.
She couldn’t have helped the fall from the ladder or the resulting memory loss. But she’d been so busy worrying about her own problems, she’d hardly given a thought to Jonah’s feelings.
They’d been in a happy relationship, and in the blink of an eye he’d lost her. She’d wondered how the feelings could’ve been real when she felt nothing for him now.
But seeing him out on the court, there was no doubt about it. One glimpse of his suffering removed all questions about the genuineness of his feelings or their previous relationship.
She pivoted from the window, unable to bear the sight anymore. Her chest ached. Was this just empathy, or did some small part of her remember her feelings for him?
Every morning since the accident, Jonah had checked on her with those hope-filled eyes, and she all but brushed him off. Helovedher, and she’d been harsh and uncaring. Her chest tightened.
She’d been exactly like so many of the adults who’d reigned over her childhood, and she hated herself for it.
Maybe she no longer wanted a relationship with Jonah, but she didn’t have to be a terrible human being. Uncertain what to do about the empathy wrenching her heart, she glanced out the window again.
Jonah retrieved his shirt from the ground and wiped his face. He grabbed the ball that had settled near the court’s edge and headed toward the parking lot.
A minute later heaviness settled over her as he got into his truck and pulled from the lot. She had to do something to make up for how callous she’d been. For how much she’d hurt him. Something to relieve the pain he was feeling.
But something safe—from a distance.
She withdrew her phone and opened the texting app. Her finger hovered over the thread between Jonah and her. The last entry was September seventh, the day of her accident. She couldn’t bring herself to read all the texts they must’ve sent back and forth.
So she forbade herself from scrolling up and began tapping on the keyboard.
Chapter 13
Jonah turned up the music and a driving Jason Aldean song filled the void in the truck’s cab. He was emotionally exhausted. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried like that. Not since he was a child. He’d like to say he felt better, but the ache inside hadn’t subsided. The angry, explosive feeling had diminished. But he actually preferred that to this overwhelming despondency.
He’d planned to stay at Pinehaven for the day; he’d told Lauren he’d be around. But it wasn’t as if she’d seek him out. And with only one guest, they didn’t need him on property today.
He didn’t feel like studying. He could see if his friend Javier was free to grab lunch—he flew floatplanes for Air Tours. But Jonah wasn’t fit for company today. He passed through town, aimless, not wanting to go home where he’d have nothing to do but think of Lauren.
Ten minutes later the sight of the seaplane base appeared as if out of nowhere. He hadn’t even known where he was going until he pulled into the parking lot. He’d only been to the business a couple times, and chances were good his friend was airborne. But maybe he’d luck out and find him in the office. Jonah needed to get out of this funk.
A minute later he crossed the gravel lot and cool air washed over him as he entered the office.
Javier turned from a conversation, his face lighting up at the sight of Jonah. “Hey, buddy. Long time no see.” Javier approached in jeans and a blue Air Tours polo. The ball cap that covered his black hair was worn low on a face that never failed to draw female attention. Javier, however, only had eyes for his wife, Allison.
“Good to see you, man.” Jonah pulled him in for a hand clasp–shoulder bump. “I was in town and thought I’d see if I could catch you on the ground.”
