Page 12 of The Stone Family Warrior

“True. Well, if you want …” He put up a hand. “No pressure or anything, but Lucy is having a dinner party on Christmas Eve. I’m sure she would love to have you come.” He paused. “You could come with me.”

Adrenaline coursed through her veins. She could see why this man was a SEAL; he was relentless. “I won’t be able to do that.”

Trent’s brow furrowed in disappointment. “Too bad.” He tapped his chin. “Could you maybe do lunch one day?”

She shook her head. “You don’t go down easy, do you, Babe Slayer?”

He cocked an eyebrow, making her laugh. “C’mon, I’m alone here. Just one date. Even a lunch date.”

“I don’t date.”

“You don’t date … at all?”

Liberty suddenly felt … weird. She started the car and backed it up. “I don’t. Sorry. It was good to see you. I hope you figure out those numbers.”

Trent just stood there, looking every bit the Navy SEAL he clearly was.

She wasn’t even going to think about it. She drove down the street toward her grandmother’s old home and hated that she was so interested in the man. It felt like she was disrespecting her husband’s memory, which was stupid. The man didn’t really deserve respect.

When his mistress had shown up at his funeral, it’d shown Liberty that she was not crazy and that … Will deserved no respect from her. She rapid blinked and pushed the memories away. Focus. She was in South Port to do a job: sell her grandmother’s house. She had to keep herself in a good mindset.

Liberty looked at her appearance in the rearview mirror for a second and was shocked to see how messy she looked. Her curly hair, which she’d pulled back in a ponytail, was all frizzy from the trip up to the caves and then down again. She checked her eye makeup; running black beneath her eyes. Oh well. She focused on the road for the rest of the drive. She got to the house and pulled into the driveway, then shut off the engine. She picked up her phone and grimaced when she saw three missed calls, all from Shane. She couldn’t deal with him right now.

As she stepped out of the car, she noticed her brother’s Beemer in the driveway. Nervous energy buzzed through her. She wasn’t sure what was going through her brother’s mind; he’d been upset when her grandmother had left her the house. The past couple of months had been strained phone calls between them.

She let out a long breath and evaluated the house, listening to the water gurgling from the nearby fountain and its sculpted birds. If she wanted to get it ready for selling, she had a pile of work to take care of. The house itself was in fair condition. The roof needed to be redone, but the long columns of the house still looked … rather stately. The whole place needed a scrub down. She would call around later today and figure out who dealt with cement work. The pool in the back needed some tender loving care as well. The new paint job on the house had done a lot for the curb appeal; it was a light blue with white shutters for accents.

She turned back to her brother’s car and noted the numbers on his license plate. Not any of consequence to her. She thought of how Trent had been so weirded out by hers. The thought made her want to go back and ask him questions, but … she wouldn’t do that.

She tried to gain the courage to go inside and face Tom. She couldn’t really blame Tom for being upset the house had been left solely to her. But it had been her grandmother’s decision, what was there to do about it? Other than giving him half, which she already planned on doing. It was the right thing to do … even if he and his wife Letty were pretty well off, both attorneys at bigwig law firms. It didn’t suit her to play the poor victim schoolteacher. Though part of her had wanted to point out that fact.

Her grandmother. Again, the loss of everything kicked her in the chest. She missed the lady so much. She blinked and thought of how shocked she’d been to hear the news of her death.

Resentment filled her. Her husband should be here with her to face all of this. Strike that—she should be here with the version of the husband she’d thought he’d been. Every time she thought of Will’s betrayal, it hit her like a gut punch.

Her friend from work, Shane, had insisted on helping her find a good therapist, and after several months of therapy, she’d been able to better process things. Still, it was impossible not to think about being here last summer with her son, Ian, and how they’d played on the beach and eaten little sandwiches her grandmother had made. Just thinking about it made her eyes water and pain throb inside of her chest. She should be taking Ian to the beach and making more sandcastles. The hard part about losing people in life was the aching gap that remained. Logically, she understood the accident hadn’t been her fault, but she would always feel responsible on a certain level.

Shoving the emotions aside, she went to the side door of the house and entered the kitchen. Strangers came to the beach house and entered through the front door. Family had always entered through the kitchen.

She put her keys on the table, looking around for Tom. He was probably up in her grandmother’s office, where she’d stored most of the boxes with his name on them.

Liberty walked through the kitchen, but she paused next to the old corkboard that hung over the old rotary telephone. Assorted letters were still on the desk below the telephone, but the pictures on the board were what captured her attention. A picture of a twelve-year-old Liberty and her grandmother jumped out at her. In the photo, her grandmother’s arm was lightly draped around her shoulder. Liberty was laughing and wearing a swimsuit, her hair shining wet. Her grandmother wore a floral dress with a sun hat and a pink silk scarf. She still remembered the feel of her grandmother’s scarf when she would reach up and touch it on her grandmother’s shoulders. She remembered not wanting to stop and pose for the picture, but her grandmother had given her a Popsicle. Her grandfather had snapped that picture before they’d properly posed. Liberty wondered why her grandmother had chosen to put this picture in a place where she would see it each day. Another stabbing pain hit her in the chest. Why was she gone? The lady had been in her mid-seventies, but she’d been in the best shape ever. She would go down to the beach with her “beach ladies” and do water aerobics in the ocean. When the ocean was too turbulent, they would relocate to her pool. Her grandmother had been such a rock for her, and after things had gone sideways this past year, she’d been petitioning for Liberty to come “home” to South Port. Come closer and not be alone, then she’d died.

She thought of her own mother, passing away years ago. The memories brought tears to Liberty’s eyes. “Mom, you should be here,” she whispered.

She made her way out of the kitchen and into her bedroom next door. A tissue box rested on the dresser. She tugged one out and dabbed at her eyes. There was no way she should talk to her brother when she was so emotional.

Taking this as a chance to gather herself, she sucked in a long breath and decided to focus on something good. Okay, she could do this. She liked how sunny this room was. The room was decorated with pinks and whites, she liked that. There was a soft bedside rug that her feet would sink into whenever she walked on it. There were intricate paintings of birds on the walls, all done by her grandmother; they were nothing less than fantastic.

Liberty stepped over to the window and traced one of the seagulls that her grandmother had sketched in between the panes. It was glorious. Even though she’d seen it a hundred times, she could never get enough of her grandmother’s talent.

“She always said you appreciated the house the most.”

Liberty turned to find her brother, Tom, standing there.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Hi,” he said softly. He wore khakis, a blue suit coat jacket, and some moccasin-looking shoes. It’d been six months since she’d seen him at her grandmother’s funeral.

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