Page 20 of Broken Hearts

Sage smirks. “Um, both?”

I smile. “Yeah, fair enough, and it’s both,” I tell her.

She tips her head in acknowledgment, and we both turn back to face the ocean. “I kinda get it,” she eventually says. “I mean, I don’t, but I get why me showing up would be a shock.”

“I knew nothing about you,” I tell her.

“I knew nothing about you,” she counters.

I turn back to find she’s watching me again, an unreadable expression on her face. “Why do you think he never mentioned…” I trail off, knowing it wasn’t just that Mitch didn’t tell me about his daughter. He clearly didn’t tell his daughter about any of us either. “Why do you think he never said anything?” I now ask.

This time, it’s Sage letting out a long breath as she turns away again, sinking into her chair.

I wishI had an answer to Nate’s question. It’s the same question I’ve been asking myself since I arrived on the island. It’s been playing out in my head over and over, bothering me in a way that brings tears to my eyes every time I think about it.

Was he embarrassed by me? Couldn’t bring himself to admit that I wanted nothing to do with him after a while? It’s my biggest regret in life now. I should have never stopped communicating with him. I can say all that now since he’s passed away, and it probably sounds disingenuous and shitty. That’s probably what his friends all think of me—some horrible person who has now decided to make amends.

I can sense the loneliness filling the open space, and a knot tightens in my stomach. I have to admit to Nate the reason my father, Mitch Harris, and I stopped speaking. Mitch to him is the perfect person, a father figure, a small business owner who puts the needs of this little Hawaiian village above his own, a giver.

But to me, Mitch was a man who never put me first. Even as I think it through, I know it’s not true. He tried, giving an effort most long-distance parents wouldn’t dare try.

I want to be able to tell Nate something true and pure, but I don’t have anything that will ease either of our suffering. I’m still angry that Mitch passed away without warning, without a chance for me to repair all that I broke. I had years, and now I have none.

The loneliness that blankets us is now competing with an overwhelming silence. You could hear a pin drop,the only sound is the soothing waves that have now become the backdrop for everything sad and broken in my world.

Nate breaks the silence, motioning to the stack of papers on the table inside with a lift of his chin. “Did you make a decision?”

It takes me a second to catch up, the conversation diverting from its original state, and that’s when I realize he’s asking me about selling The Pipe Dream.

“He isn’t a friend of my dad’s, is he?” I counter, not answering his direct question.

Nate shakes his head, his full lips pursed, and he lets out a long, slow breath. “He’s been coming around here for a couple of years. Been trying to get Mitch to sell the land. It’s worth millions.” Nate pauses, swallowing hard like he regrets telling me that part. “But you already know that,” he adds in quickly.

“Yeah, I saw that in the proposal,” I say, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Working at The Pipe Dream is Nate’s livelihood, and selling the land will take that from him. And as much as I’d love to think I could somehow run it from New York, I know that isn’t true.

This decision is something I have to make for myself, not basing it on what is best for the people who work here. I have a life in New York. I have to get back there for school.

“Why didn’t my dad want to sell it?” I ask, and as the words leave my mouth, it sounds like the stupidest question I’ve ever asked. I know the answer, but I guess I want to hear what Nate has to say.

“The Pipe Dream meant everything to Mitch,” Nate says, a harshness to his words that almost feels like a slap in the face. “But you wouldn’t…” He cuts himself short, dragging a hand through his disheveled brown hair.

And he’s back to being a dick.

I knew it wouldn’t last. He was probably sent here by Alana to make amends, but he just can’t see me as anything other than a threat to his future.

Honestly, I am a threat to his future. I’m the one who will ultimately make the decision whether to sell The Pipe Dream or not.

That’s when my mom’s damn words come back to haunt me. Why does she always have to be so diplomatic? I’m too fucking young to make decisions like this. Up until last year, I still lived with my mother, and not that things are any better now. She pays my apartment rent.

I’m a damn mess.

I look at Nate, our eyes locking, and he holds my stare for a few seconds before I look away. I can’t tell him that I’m thinking about selling The Pipe Dream. I can’t bring myself to break his heart, even if he is a dick. He wants me to be everything he thinks I am. He wants me to sell it so he can forever hold a grudge, so he can hate me, and blame me, and hold Mitch above all else.

I look toward the ocean, the wind sending a breeze through the open doors behind us and into the house, and I watch the hibiscus flowers dance. Standing, I step over to the railing, taking in the view, and trying to clear my head.

“I haven’t made a decision,” I now say, a peace offering of sorts, but I don’t look back at Nate. “When did my dad renovate?” It’s a one-eighty again, the subject change allowing us to skate around what we both really want to say.

“Just last year,” Nate replies, walking over to stand next to me. “You were here before?”

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