Page 5 of A Little More Hope

Forgotten memories of walks along the sand with my aunt and surfing with my friends bubbled to the surface. I’d traveled to a lot of beaches in the last few years, but nothing held the salty sharpness of the sea in the same way as Melrose Bay.

Home. I was home.

“You gonna stand there like an ass all day, or we gonna get a hug?”

Spinning around, I stopped dead at the sight of three men leaning against the side of a beat-up old truck. Two smiling and the other, Sawyer, sporting his usual unreadable expression.

“You still got that heap of junk?” I baited him. Instantly his chest puffed out, all indignant, making me chuckle. He’d always been so easy to rile.

“Don’t go insulting Matilda,” he warned, laying his hand on the side of the battered green-and-white 1970s Chevy C10 pickup, then reverently stroking down the paintwork, before fixing me with his turquoise-blue eyes. “Or you can walk your sorry ass back out of town.”

“Yeah, don’t be rude to the lady,” Flynn tacked on, his grin wide.

“For crying out loud,” Cam groused, heading over to me. “Ignore those two.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “They’re just messing with you, ’cause you’re late arriving.”

Damn, I’d missed these guys.

Cam had filled out in the last four years. Big, with cropped brown hair, and dark brown eyes, he’d packed on some serious muscle, and it was like being hugged by a wrestler, his big arms wrapping me up so tight.

“Glad to have you back,” he murmured in my ear and hugged me some more.

“You gonna maul him to death or what?” Flynn moaned, shoving Cam out of the way. “C’mere.” And he pulled me into his arms. Shorter than my six feet by a good few inches, slim, and surprisingly strong, the air huffed out of me as he squeezed me hard. Leaning away, he flicked his auburn hair out of his pale gray eyes and grinned. “About time you came home.” Then, he added seriously, “We missed you, Ashton.”

My throat suddenly closed up, making speaking hard. “Missed you too, Flynn. All of you,” I managed to get out, casting my gaze to the others.

Flynn released me, standing to the side as Sawyer took his place in front of me. Jet black hair poked out from under his backward-facing baseball cap. His black tank and jeans highlighted the intense aqua blue of his eyes. He waited, standing casually, as if he could have cared less if I was there or not. I knew differently, so of course, closed the distance between us and gave him a hug. He went stiff for a second, then relaxed into me, briefly slapping me on the back a couple of times before pulling away. I let him go, knowing that’s about as much of a welcome as I’d get.

He slung an arm around my neck. “Come on,” he said, his voice rough. “Let’s drop your shit off so we can go to the Bayside for a proper welcome.”

“That place is still there?” I shook my head. “I’d have thought they’d have shut the stinking hole down years ago.”

He laughed, rich and deep, grabbed my bag, and slung the duffel into the bed of his truck. “Nah, new owners took over. Cleaned the place up.”

Perhaps more things had changed around here than I thought.

The four of us squeezed snugly into the front of Sawyer’s pride and joy. Thankfully, the drive didn’t last long, and after a few minutes, we turned down the quiet lane on the far side of town, pulling up on the drive of Aunt Mary Ellen’s, and now, my home.

That was going to take some getting used to.

She hadn’t really been my aunt, more a close friend of my mom’s, but growing up that’s what I’d always called her, as she’d been the closest thing to one I’d ever had. She was all you’d ever want in a favorite, and somewhat eccentric, relative. Long, silver hair piled on her head in a messy bun held together by multiple pencils or chopsticks or whatever else she’d have handy. Dressed in brightly colored dresses and baggy cardigans, she’d never be inconspicuous. She smelled of lavender and the sea and home, and I’d loved her with all my heart.

She’d become my guardian when Mom died of an overdose a couple of days after my fourteenth birthday, and only when I went to live with her, did I finally learn what having a mother was all about.

Aunt Mary Ellen and I would scavenge along the seashore, looking for shells and sea glass, while trying to spot any sea creatures hiding in the sand. There were long walks into the forest enclosing the town on all sides and cozy nights wrapped up in warm blankets as we sat on the deck overlooking the sea, drinking hot chocolate piled high with far too many mini marshmallows.

But most of all, and for the first time in my life, I’d been loved, unconditionally and unreservedly, and I’d cherished those feelings of happiness and acceptance with all I had.

Opening the door of the truck and hopping out, I grabbed my bag, pulled out my keys from the side pocket, and headed down the path. Unlocking the front door, the familiar scent of home greeted me. Inhaling deeply, I filled my lungs with the faint smell of her perfume and ever-present lavender, which I knew without checking hung in every room. Aunt Mary Ellen had loved the plant and made sure everybody knew about it.

I passed the bedrooms and walked down the hallway and through to the living area at the rear of the house, heading over to the sideboard where a photograph of us both took pride of place. Reverently lifting the frame, I absently wiped the dust off the glass and studied the image. Us, standing on the deck overlooking the sea, fairy lights strung along the railing, my arms around her, both of us laughing. The picture was our favorite, and as I stared at the two of us, my vision blurred as the reality of her death hit me hard.

She’s gone.

All the love and tenderness only she’d ever given me. Gone.

The hugs, time, and patience I didn’t deserve. Gone.

The one person ever to show me any affection and make me feel as if I could achieve anything I wanted and not be a total loss or waste of space was gone.

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