“It happens? She told me you’ve been over there almost every night. She seems to really care about you.”
My sigh was a harsh, rasping sound, and the fight went out of me. There was no point in denying it. I leaned forward and rested my forehead on my palm, elbow propped on the desk. “All right, Brenna. Yes. We’re seeing each other. It’s new. It’s not a big deal.”
“Oh, Austin.” The relief in her voice was a warm wave that traveled through the phone. “Deny it all you want, but that’s wonderful news! I was surprised, obviously, but… happy for you. You know we all worry about you. It’s been a long time.” She hesitated, and I knew what was coming next. The one topic that was off-limits, the one door I never, ever opened. “Maybe… maybe she can help you. You’ve never really dealt with what happened.”
Ice.
Sharp, paralyzing ice shot through my veins, freezing blood and silencing the chaotic thrum of my thoughts.
“Do not go there.” My voice came out low and cold and hard. Each word was a chip of ice. “That has nothing to do with this. That has nothing to do with her. And I did deal with it. I buried it. End of story. Drop it, Brenna.”
There was a long, heavy silence on the other end of the line. “Okay,” she said finally, her voice subdued, full of a soft, aching regret. “I’ll stop. But I’m here, all of us are here, if you change your mind, okay? Or if you want to talk to Iris about it. Please?”
I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against the desk. “I know. I do. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
“It’s okay. Really.” She took a breath, and I could hear her regrouping, shifting gears. “But you can’t keep her a secret. People are going to see you two together. It’s a smallisland. When are you going to introduce her to the rest of us? As more than just the neighbor?”
The ice in my veins began to melt, replaced by a weary, heavy resignation, and I sat up straight. She was right. Of course she was right. I couldn’t keep Iris in a separate, isolated box labeledneighborwhile the rest of my life went on around her. Life and my family were already seeping in around the edges, blurring the lines I had drawn so carefully, so desperately.
I scrubbed a hand over my stubble. “Yeah, I know. And I will. Just keep it to yourself for now, okay? I need a little time to figure things out.”
“Okay,” she agreed, though the reluctance was clear in her voice, the unspoken promise that this conversation wasn’t over. “For now. But I really like her. She’s good people.”
“Yeah,” I said, the single word feeling like a massive concession. “She is.”
“I love you, you big, stubborn hermit,” she said softly.
“Yeah, love you too.”
The call with Brenna left a bitter taste in my mouth, like stale coffee. I drove home in a funk. Her words, so full of gentle, loving concern, had been worse than any argument.
“You never really dealt with it.”
The four walls of my house felt like they were closing in, the silence suddenly suffocating. Needing air, I went out to my yard, telling myself I needed to check the tension on the new guide wrappings on my fishing rod, a task that required focus and a steady hand. My hands were far from steady, and my real reason for being outside was standing in plain sight. My gaze, as if drawn by its own magnetic pull, went straight to Heron House.
Gus’s crew was packing up for the day, the professionalhum of their work winding down into the easy camaraderie of men ready for a cold beer and a hot meal.
Iris was on the porch, a clipboard tucked under her arm, talking with Gus. Her blonde hair was pulled back, but tendrils had escaped to frame her face, which was tilted up toward him, her expression focused and intent. She wasn’t smiling or laughing. She was working.
I was still annoyed that my sister and my neighbor had somehow formed an alliance, a book club conspiracy that was now apparently focused on the state of my emotional well-being. I assumed Iris had sought her out, maybe to get the inside scoop on the grumpy sea captain next door.
But I found myself drifting closer, down the property line, keeping to the shadows of my trees. I told myself I was just making sure Gus wasn’t giving her the runaround, that this new contractor was as good as his clean truck and professional demeanor suggested.
It was vigilance. That was all.
I got within earshot just as Gus was pointing to a section of the second-floor exterior.
“…so we can ensure there’s a proper air gap behind the siding,” he was explaining, his voice a calm, steady baritone. “It’ll let the whole wall breathe, which is critical in this climate. Prevents moisture buildup, rot, the whole nine yards.”
“Right,” Iris said, and I saw her make a note on a sheet attached to her clipboard. “And the flashing you’re using for the new window installations, is it a self-adhering, or a fluid-applied one? I was reading that with these older, uneven clapboards, a fluid-applied membrane can create a more seamless seal.”
I stopped dead. My feet just halted, half-hidden behind a large bush.
Fluid-applied membrane?
I must have heard her wrong.
But then Gus nodded, an expression of professional respect on his face. “Good question. We’re using a high-quality butyl tape. But you’re right, on a house this old, a fluid application around the sills is a smart secondary measure. I’ll add it to the work order. Good catch, Iris. You’ve been doing your research.”
