Page 4 of The Mistakes I've Made
“Thanks,” I replied. “That’s real kind of you. I’d say the same, but…well, you always look like shit.”
He chuckled, shaking his head, as I took a seat at my desk. I looked out over the marina. The sun beat down onto the water which scattered tiny, glistening diamond lights across the bay.
I shook my head.
Damn, it was early.
Too damn early.
“Did you make coffee?” I asked, stretching my back against the old leather chair.
I’d managed to pull this business out of the brink of bankruptcy twice—most recently when my brother’s medical bills from the ferry explosion had nearly crippled us—yet, somehow, we still had these piece-of-shit office chairs that probably predated both of us.
No one could argue that the Sutherlands were excessive with money; that was for sure.
“Of course,” he said. “I have a child who refuses to sleep at night because it’s precious hours she could be learning. How do you think I survive? I’m already two cups in.”
I chuckled, loving that my brother had laid such a fierce claim on his stepdaughter. Honestly, I had too. Lizzie was a keeper for sure.
“Good,” I said.
Wasting no time, I made a beeline toward the counter in the back we had set up for break times. There was a mini fridge and one of those fancy new coffeepots with the individual pods for customers during the slow, winter months when they waited indoors for scenic tours. But, for the two of us, we still relied on the regular drip machine.
“Is there a particular reason you look like shit today, or is it a new look you’re going for?”
Only my big brother could hassle me like this without getting a beat-down.
I let out a sigh, pouring my coffee as he waited for an answer.
“Sierra,” I finally said.
“Jimmy’s granddaughter? That Sierra?”
I nodded, having just added an ample amount of flavored creamer to my giant cup of coffee.
“Man, I thought you were done with that?”
I merely shrugged.
“You know he’ll kill you if he finds out. Likedrag your ass onto that puddle jumper of a plane of his and drop you in the middle of the oceankill you.”
I took a long sip of coffee. It was like liquid fuel to my brain cells, and I instantly felt better.
God, I loved coffee.
“It’s not a big deal.”
“Really?” he said, his brow rising in disbelief as both arms folded in front of him.
I had to force myself not to glance in the direction of his prosthetic arm.
Even to this day, I couldn’t help but look.
Up until the night Dean had lost his arm in that ferry accident, I’d always told myself that staying here in Ocracoke was temporary. That one day, I’d finally get out of here and fulfill all those dreams I’d had in high school. I’d go to college, do something other than this. But, the moment I had seen him in that hospital bed—so lost and helpless, my superhero of a big brother—I’d known.
I wasn’t going anywhere.
Ever.
