Page 8 of Tempting the Heart

“Yeah. Real top-notch care,” my father mumbled.

I unbuckled and let out a slow breath. “Would you just be kind to the therapist, please?”

I opened the door and walked around to the passenger side, where I helped my father out of the truck and handed him the walker. We slowly made our way up the ramp and to the door. I opened it up to a little chime ringing through the air.

A receptionist smiled when she spotted us, and I got my dad planted in one of the chairs while I went up to check in.

“Name?”

“Mervin Grant.”

“Ah, yes. Okay. Bethany will be out shortly.”

“Thank you so much,” I said, looking at my father scowling at a floral arrangement.

I sat next to him. “This will be good. You should get stronger in no time and get back to your routine.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Okay.” I nodded, kicking my feet out. “You’ll feel better. How about that?”

“Doubt it.”

I thought back to the house. Time hadn’t been kind to it, but the truth was that my brother and I had taken over the house payments years ago. We sent them money for food,maintenance, transportation—whatever we could. Yet, none of that mattered. They'd still managed to wreck the house even more and live like nothing mattered.

Neither my brother nor I could figure out the crux of their carelessness or inability to… love. My brother went to therapy first and came out of it still wondering. I tried it a few years ago and just became more confused. My parents didn’t seem to fit a textbook anything.

But the one thing my therapist could pinpoint was how Brad and his family were the beacon of hope, specifically, Mae.

I’d tried to shake that feeling since, but it was the truth.

And since arriving back on Marigold Island, I felt it even more, which told me one thing.

I had to get out of here.

Chapter Three

Mae

“You’re telling me that Tyler Grant is here on Marigold Island, and he didn’t call me?” My brother leaned against the doorframe separating my coffee shop from his antique store. A brief frown surfaced over his features before he pushed his lips into a smile. “I’m sure he has his reasons.”

Men were so easy. My sisters and I would dissect every action from the moment Tyler stepped foot on Marigold, investigating his reasons for not reaching out, and discussing it ad nauseam. But with my brother, it was much simpler.

I clucked my tongue and sipped a raspberry mocha I was experimenting with for my summer menu.

“Well, he’s here. I couldn’t tell whether he was happy about it or not.” I set the cup down, wandered over to lock the door, and flipped over myOpensign. “My gut says no.”

“Wow.” Brad shook his head and shrugged. “Maybe I’ll reach—”

My hand shot up in the air. “No. Don’t do that.”

My brother’s brows furrowed as a slight hint of a smile ran over his lips.

“Why’s that?”

I cocked my head and rolled my eyes. “Fine. Reach out and get rejected. He could have told you he was here if he wanted to say hi.” My brows raised, waiting for Brad’s response. “Or he could have walked right through that door you’re standing at to visit you at the antique store.”

Brad didn’t look the slightest bit wounded. “Something probably came up at the old Grant homestead.”

---