Page 4 of Won't Back Down

“Three weeks. That’ll give me time to find a place and get settled in. For now, I’m gonna be staying with Caroline and Hoyt and the kids.”

“I’m sure Aubrey will be beside herself that you’re going to be here for her birthday.”

“That definitely factored in when I was trying to make arrangements. It’s not every day my favorite niece turns seven.”

The faint shadow in her eyes faded as she spoke with the unrestrained warmth of someone who loved and valued her family. I loved and valued her family, too. They were so incredibly different from mine, and I was grateful they considered me one of their own. But I always felt a little twinge at the obvious signs of genuine affection. It made me aware of how very alone I was.

Beneath the table, Roy laid his heavy head on my knee.

Okay, never alone with this guy.

I stroked his silky ears, feeling some of the knots loosen. At least, insofar as they ever did when I was out in public. “Have you heard from Rios or any of the other Wayward Sons?”

Gabi shook her head. “Not recently. What about you? Any word from Jace or the others?”

Our brothers and their friends were all deployed hither and yon with the Navy. Unlike Gabi’s relationship with Rios, my connection to my own brother was strained, for reasons that really couldn’t be addressed when he was thousands of miles away. I’d made my peace with that a long time ago. What I hadn’t made peace with was the long stretch of silence from Sawyer.

“No. Nothing.” I didn’t know if he was on a mission somewhere with poor communication or what, and I was starting to worry. He didn’t usually go this long without responding to emails or texts.

He didn’t owe me anything. I wasn’t exactly family. And while we were friends, things had never been the same as they were Before. And why should they be? I certainly wasn’t that same girl. In a very real way, she’d died that night when my heart had stopped.

But if not for him, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now.

Shaking off the thought, I determined to focus on my friend. We chatted a few more minutes, catching up since the last phone call we’d managed as her residency in New Orleans was winding down. I wondered if something had happened there that had precipitated her early trip back home, but before I could ask, she shoved back from the table.

“I’ve gotta get going. Don’t wanna keep the new boss waiting.”

“No problem. I need to pack up and go check on my grandfather.” Not a lie. But I also wanted to get out of here, because now that she was leaving, I was all too aware of the other patrons who’d filled up the surrounding tables while we’d talked. The familiar pressure of being in a crowd was building behind my breastbone.

Gabi’s dark eyes shone with sympathy. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s struggled a lot since Grandma died six months ago.”

“I haven’t seen you to say it properly, but I’m really sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks for that.” I accepted the hug she gave, grateful she was finally back on-island.

“Let’s get together before Aubrey’s birthday party. I want to have a real catch up.”

The idea of that sounded fantastic. It had been so many years since we’d been able to hang out without an expiration date. “Absolutely. Text me when you’re free.”

I left a cash tip on the table and packed up my laptop. Roy immediately rose to his feet. A few other customers cast him a wary glance. Not that he’d made a sound or was focused anywhere but on me. We were no strangers to judgment. It was a big part of why I’d spent so much time training him. I knew he’d face prejudice wherever we went. It was that prejudice that had landed him on the kill list at a shelter on the mainland for a crime no more serious than being a black dog and belonging to a breed that had been terribly maligned by the media. I’d just barely gotten to him in time.

“Time to go, boy.”

I picked up his lead, and we hurried down the street to where I’d parked. Not until Roy was loaded into the backseat of my Jeep, his harness clipped to the seatbelt, did I take a full breath. These days of forcing myself to work in public spaces were one of the ways I continued to challenge my social anxiety. I was so much better than I used to be. I’d had to be, in order to support myself since I returned to Hatterwick on my own at eighteen. But it was still hard. That was a big part of why Roy went everywhere with me. He was as much emotional support animal as pet. We’d saved each other. And, okay, the fact that he was massive and kind of terrifying meant most people kept their distance. I was perfectly fine with that.

My shoulders, which had hitched up around my ears by the time I got him loaded into the Jeep, relaxed as we passed the village limits and followed the coastal road north. My grandfather lived as far from Sutter’s Ferry as it was possible to get on the island. Sutter House—because, yeah, mine was the founding family many, many generations back on my mom’s side—had been built on the highest point, just beyond the maritime forest that occupied the center swath of the island for about eight miles. There was one road cutting through the trees from the Atlantic side to Pamlico Sound. That was a necessary concession my grandparents had made to emergency management a few decades back, when they’d gifted some of the acreage to the island to make a park, which was one of the draws for tourists here on Hatterwick. But the last five or so miles were still privately owned. Developers had been after that acreage for years, but my grandparents had refused to sell—something I was eternally grateful for, as this was my favorite part of the island.

So were the wild horses that still roamed the grasslands and marshes. As I came over a hill, crossing onto Sutter land, I spotted a chestnut mare wheeling away from the edge of the road to race back into the interdune marsh beyond the road. Thought to be descended from the same Spanish horses that spawned the herds on neighboring Corolla and Shackleford Banks further north, the wild horses had always captured my imagination and my heart. They were free in a way I never had been, and I both admired and envied that, spending hours of my childhood, and countless more since I’d returned, tracking and observing them. The herd had shrunk over the years as their habitat had dwindled—something I hoped to do something about, eventually. But Granddaddy hadn’t exactly been in the right headspace to talk about conservation efforts. He hadn’t been in the right headspace for much of anything since Grandma died. I couldn’t blame him for that.

I was grateful I’d managed to reconnect with both of them before she’d passed. I’d cut ties with absolutely everyone in my family, save Jace, when I returned to Hatterwick at eighteen. I hadn’t known who I could trust and hadn’t been willing to risk ending up under anyone’s thumb ever again. It had taken years for them to win my trust. During those years I’d been able to prove to myself that I could stand on my own two feet, without the Hollingsworth name I’d been raised to prize. But I wished I’d had longer with Grandma than the year I’d gotten before a heart attack took her. I’d been too damaged to open up any sooner, though. Hell, I was still damaged in ways literally no one else knew. But that was my burden to bear.

Signs of neglect were everywhere when I pulled up to the house. It was still grand. Three stories, with gabled roofs, lots of windows, and shingled siding. It was one of the few historic structures on the island that hadn’t been fully destroyed by one hurricane or another. But those shingles needed a fresh coat of paint, and the foundation plantings around the base were overgrown. I was really going to have to brow-beat Granddaddy into taking on some help. At his age, he couldn’t keep up with all this on his own, and I could only do so much.

I let Roy out of the car, and he bounded toward the door, tail already swishing. Noting the wilting potted plants along the walk to the kitchen door, I added watering them to my list. But that could wait. As soon as I had the door open, Roy bolted inside.

“Go find Granddaddy.”

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