Page 79 of Fighting the Tide
The way she says it isn’t how a daughter would speak to her father.Her words are filled with suggestion.“I just want the truth,” I mutter and take a step back.
“I remember coming by this cottage when I was younger.They’re fragmented memories of a toddler, but I swear there was a woman here who made a mean batch of chocolate chip cookies.”My breath gets trapped in my lungs as I stare at her in shock, my face tingling with realization.
“You knew my mother?”I ask, my voice cracking.
“I don’t know for sure.Maybe?Like I said, it’s the memories of a toddler, and when I came around a few summers later, there was only a man here.He was always sick from the alcohol.”She shrugs her shoulders like it’s no big deal what she’s revealing, but this proves that Brooke’s daughter knew my parents.It also proves that my family kept an enormous secret from me.“I could’ve imagined her.”
“That was my father.He was an alcoholic, among other things.”The words are flying from my mouth without restraint.I’m telling this woman I met a few hours ago things it took me weeks to say to my therapist.
“Are you an alcoholic?”Her unique eyes narrow on me as my brows come together.
“What?”I ask and clear my throat.“Why would you ask that?”When she looks at me, it feels as though she can peer right into my soul and see the damage her mother left behind.I feel uncomfortable and out of my element, and if she senses that, she doesn’t care.
“Five years ago, you were here in this cottage.I saw you sitting right out here and drinking an entire bottle of whiskey by yourself—”
“That was you.”I step forward as she looks at me questioningly.“You were walking on the beach, and I thought you were your mother.I yelled out to you.”
“That’s not creepy at all.You knew my mother was dead, you were at her grave.”She snorts, the sound cute and airy.“I did you a favor then and poured the rest of that bottle out into the sand, hoping you wouldn’t take the same path as the man before you did.”
Her revelation sends me stumbling backward with a dry chuckle, my back meeting the railing.“This is insane,” I mumble as I scrub a hand down my face, the weight in my chest becoming lighter.
“I should get going.I have an early morning.Have a great night, Nolan Sears.”She steps down from my deck, her long legs flexing with the motion.
“Wait!”I call out and step down onto the sand behind her.“I need proof, Colette.”
“Of what, Nolan?”She holds her arms out and gives me a raspy laugh.Then she steps into my body and drops her hands to her sides, our chests brushing as our breaths mingle in the small space between us.“Would a father and daughter feel the way we are right now?”She’s bold as she gives me a mischievous grin and the sight has every muscle in my body stiffening as my mouth falls open with shock.
“I don’t feel—”
“Not yet, anyway,” she murmurs and steps back.“See you around!”she calls out and begins to jog up the beach.
My reaction to the woman who could be my daughter has nothing to do with being parental, and the realization has me bending over, my hands on my knees as the bile rushes from my mouth.
This is a sick joke, something derived from the hottest depths of Hell to torture me here, one final time, in the town that battered my body on the shore of the beach, leaving my heart broken beyond repair.Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse than what I’ve already endured, I find myself staring down into a puddle of vomit, proof that yes, it absolutely could get worse.
I straighten and look out toward the distance, watching her form get smaller and smaller as she runs along the sand.I have to remind myself that this is not a child, that she’s very much a woman, and she is her mother’s daughter through and through.That mischievous smile she gave me tonight is a carbon copy of the one Brooke had given me so many times, but that’s where the similarities end.Where Brooke liked to be tempting, Colette gets a thrill at being daring, and the fact that she was flirting with danger only makes me want to bend back over and spill the rest of my stomach contents.
No matter how sure she is about her parentage, nothing short of a DNA test will be enough for me.I should know better than anyone the lengths people will go to for deception, and if Brooke truly felt that Sean could afford the lifestyle she wanted for her daughter, I can absolutely see her vowing she was his.I didn’t have a penny to my name back then, and I lived in a dorm while attending a school that I could only afford because of a scholarship.No, claiming that child as mine would have been a terrible mistake.
Once she disappears from my sight, I turn around and stumble back to the door, my hands gripping the frame and my nails digging into the wood.I felt her in my chest.The tug was much more potent than I ever felt for her mother, and she was here waiting for me, knowing exactly where I’m staying and who I was.
The sound of my phone ringing brings me out of my trance, and I head inside, slipping it from my back pocket and staring at the unknown name on the screen.I don’t usually pick up these calls, but tonight, nothing feels ordinary.So I swipe my thumb along the screen and bring my phone to my ear.
“Hello?”My voice cracks from the damage of the burning bile and I clear it as a feminine chuckle coats my ear.
“Is it true?Are you home?”Cassie’s voice sounds exactly as it did five years ago.The inflection, the tone, exactly the same, and my back hits the wall of the cottage as I exhale a breath.
“I’m here for Avery’s engagement party,” I inform her as my fingers find my temple and I massage slow circles into my flesh.“How have you been, Cassie?”
“It’s been five years, Nolan.”It almost sounds like she’s chastising me, and I can feel myself becoming defensive.
“It sure has,” I say, my tone short and my patience dwindling fast.Tonight is not the night for interrogations.
“A lot has happened,” she explains.“Sorry if I sounded weird.It’s been a long five years.”
I want to tell her it’s been a long night and I would very much like to not be on the phone, but the lessons my mother drilled into my head as a teen to respect women are still there.My eyes skip to the minibar in the corner stocked full with exactly what I’ll need to fall asleep tonight as I say, “I get that.”
“We should meet up for dinner, discuss how the last five years have been.”Her suggestion begins to rake on my last nerve because she lives here in Chatham, so there’s no way she doesn’t know about Colette.
