Page 20 of Catch and Release

“I know, Han.”

“We love you,” she added.

“I love y’all, too.” Even if I’m not acting like it.

“Shawn—” As Hanna began to say more, Amos walked out of the front door of his house and eyed the lawn.

“Shawn, thank you!” he boomed.

“Anytime, Amos,” Shawn forced a smile as he heard another sigh from Hanna over the line.

“You’re busy,” she said flatly.

He searched for words as Amos approached him, but none came.

“I’ll let you run, Shawny. Call me when you’re ready to talk. Love you.” Hanna cut the line.

Shawn pocketed his phone, frustration with himself coursing through his body.

“You need a ride home?” Amos asked, not seeing Shawn’s truck anywhere.

“No worries,” Shawn said. “I jogged here. I’ll jog home, too.”

It was only a mile home, and he needed to pound out the confusing mess of emotions he was facing—and figure out how to get over himself and talk to his best friends.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Willa grinned to herself as she walked down the beach toward Ida’s house. When Ida dropped by yesterday with the pie in hand, she’d been in a rush to get back to her kitchen and keep cooking, so Willa promised she’d drop by this morning for a visit.

Of course, when Shawn showed up with another pie barely an hour later, she’d seen right through him. He must’ve asked Ida for a pie to bring her in apology, and it was refreshing for a man to try so hard to get into her good graces.

Unlike Leo, who wouldn’t be caught dead saying the words “I’m sorry.”

She sighed, realizing the bar was on the fucking floor.

Shame surfaced as she thought back to how she overlooked some of Leo’s more obvious red flags.

And when she met Blake after dropping by the hotel, she couldn’t help but notice similarities between the Beachside Inn’s General Manager and Leo. For one, he talked to her boobs, not her. Not to mention, he kept hinting at her giving him “private lessons” since he mostly lifts—as if that was supposed to impress her. Willa was thankful for the gig, but was not looking forward to the regular one-on-one meetings he insisted on having to stay updated on the progress of the new yoga program.

At least she had Layla.

Shaking herself out of her stupor, she raised a hand to knock on the door when it swung open.

“Right on time,” Ida said, clad in joggers, a Smash the Patriarchy t-shirt, and sneakers. “Let’s go on a walk.”

Willa chuckled in spite of herself. Ida was a spitfire, that was for certain. She took no shit from anybody, and she got right down to business. Willa hadn’t known the older woman wanted to be accompanied on a walk, but she was grateful for the excuse to get a bit of movement in.

“Good morning to you, too, Ida,” Willa said with a smile.

“Oh, honey, now listen,” Ida said, positioning a visor on her head, white hair spilling out onto her fair-skinned, wrinkled face. “I’d love it if you called me Grams.”

“Grams?”

“I’d never try to replace your grandmother, God rest her sweet soul, but anyone in cahoots with my grandson gets to call me Grams. If you’re comfortable with it, that is.”

“Cahoots? Ida, listen, I?—”

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