Sea Glass Castle (The Carolina Coast Series Book 3) Page 15

Wes rinsed a glass and set it in the dish rack. “Don’t know what you’re referring to.” He fished the plug out of the sink and watched the sudsy water drain out, not wanting to face the concern he knew he would find in Seth’s eyes.

  “They seem right at home here. It certainly didn’t look fake to me.”

  Wes steeled himself and turned around. Crossing his arms, he leaned against the counter and met his brother’s stare. Seth had his cheek propped in the palm of his hand, his wet hair flopping onto his creased forehead.

  “The dating part is fake. The platonic friendship is real.” Wes sighed. “I thought you’d be happy about that. You’re the one who wanted me to get a life.”

  “You’re right. I’ve pushed you to do just that for a few years now, but what I’ve seen today . . . man, I gotta be straight with you, I’m worried. It’s like you’ve clung to them like a pretend family.”

  “It’s not that. I promise.”

  “But you see where my concerns are coming from, right? You went from recluse to playing house overnight.”

  “You’ve not been here. It didn’t happen overnight. And I have enough sense to know Sophia and Collin aren’t mine. Mine were taken from me four years ago today.”

  Seth straightened and shook his head. “I know. I hate this for you and . . . just please don’t get hurt.”

  “I’m trying . . .” As predicted, Wes got still and the anniversary of losing his world caught up with him. All the hurt he’d been pushing down bubbled up and sent a stream of hot tears trickling down his cheeks.

  As Wes’s shoulders began to shake and the flood of grief engulfed him, he barely noticed Seth making his way around the island. His brother embraced him in a hug that was firm and filled with compassion. It was the strength needed to support him from falling apart. Wes gave in to the grief as his legs buckled and sent both of them to the floor.

  And just like that, Wes was reliving the nightmare—one that would never remove its talons from his soul, no matter how many years passed. . . .

  “I’m fat and miserable and my gut is almost too big to fit behind this steering wheel,” Claire’s voice whined through the speakers of Wes’s car. Her little rant made him want to laugh, but after eight months of dealing with his pregnant wife he knew better.

  Instead, he grinned at himself in the rearview mirror.

  She’s so dang cute.

  Yeah, and you’re one lucky son of a gun.

  I know.

  He moved his attention back to the road as the traffic light turned green. “Perhaps it’s time you get your sweet behind still somewhere then.” His grin widened to epic proportions, knowing she wouldn’t take too kindly to his tease.

  “I’m too busy for such mess as sitting still, and you better watch it, buddy.”

  Claire was one of those resilient beauties who only grew still when sleeping. Her athletic build was perfect for her two passions: horseback riding and softball. The bounty of ribbons and trophies from high school and college proved she was quite talented at both. Nowadays she had moved on to coaching, but that kept her just as busy.

  “Would you forgive me if I promised to be your personal chauffeur and be at your beck and call?” Wes glanced over his shoulder before changing lanes. Rush hour was upon him and the traffic was thickening.

  “How on earth would you be able to pull that off?” Claire asked. He could hear her changing radio stations.

  “Leave the radio alone and focus on the road, dear.” He laughed when she mumbled a tart reply, and then gave her his news. “As of today, I’m officially on paternity leave.” He rolled to a stop at another light, noticing heavy clouds moving in.

  Claire squealed. “Really?”

  Wes chuckled. “Really. It’s time you and I slow down and focus on preparing for Luke to make his debut.”

  “I can’t wait,” Claire said softly.

  Warmth settled in his chest as he pictured the beautiful smile he heard in her voice. She had glowed with health and happiness in the last several months. They both looked forward to her being in that condition on a regular basis until their four extra bedrooms were filled with children.

  “Oh!” She sounded startled.

  “What?” He began to panic but settled down when she let out a giggle.

  “Your son just kicked the tater out of me.”

  “That’s my boy.” Pride flooded him. He was so in awe over Claire growing them such a strong boy. The doctor was estimating him to be at least a nine-pounder at birth.

  “Ugh, it’s starting to rain cats and dogs,” Claire said. He heard the sound of heavy rain followed by the whirl of windshield wipers coming to life on her end of the phone.

  “Are you almost home?” Wes asked. He knew she’d spent the afternoon at the horse stable giving a riding lesson. It was only a fifteen-minute drive from their home out in the country.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Once you get there, take a nice relaxing bath and I’ll be home shortly to rub your feet.” Sadly, he had at least another thirty minutes left of his forty-five-minute commute.

  She moaned. “Hmm, I’m such a lucky girl. Hurry up!”

  Wes chuckled again. “We should hang up and concentrate on driving. I love you.”

  “Okay, you sweet, sexy man.” Claire’s flirting drove him crazy in only the best way and he couldn’t wait to get home to her. “I love—”

  You should have followed her last spoken word. Not the scream.

  And certainly not the metallic explosion.

  13

  Something wasn’t right. Sophia knew it, but she didn’t know what was wrong. It began nagging her during supper at Wes’s last night when she caught the twins—and hello, twins! That still blew her mind. Anyway, she caught them having one of those silent conversations. One that looked like Seth was leading it while Wes was trying to shut it down.

  The niggling followed her into work early Thursday morning. Distracted, she stopped in her office long enough to grab the day’s revised schedule and a few messages before shoving Wes’s door open.

  She screamed, and the papers went flying.

  “Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes!” Doc Nelson cackled out and slapped the desk, amused at having nearly given her a heart attack.

  Clutching her chest, Sophia worked on steadying her breathing. “I’m so sorry, sir. I thought Wes—Dr. Sawyer would be in.” She regathered her composure and then the scattered papers.

  “It’s okay, young lady. I should have had Agnes call you, but it was before the chickens got up this morning that I found out I’d be filling in here for the rest of the week.” Doc offered a sad smile before squinting at the computer screen. “Is this schedule accurate for today?”

  Sophia walked over to the desk and handed him the papers. “No, sir. I had to revise it yesterday at the last minute.” She waited for Doc to fill her in on what was going on with Wes, but he studied the paper instead. “Umm . . . is Dr. Sawyer ill?”

  Doc didn’t answer right away, and she was about to decide he wasn’t going to at all when he let out a long sigh. “Wes ain’t feeling his best, so I told him to take the next two days off.”

  “Oh. I hate to hear that. . . . Well, if you need anything, I’ll be in my office.” She pulled on a smile, but it refused to reach her eyes.

  With no other choice, Sophia brushed off as best she could the notion of skipping out to go check on Wes and got to work. All the while, her thoughts looped around and tried gathering some detail or clue she’d missed that would set her mind at ease.

  By the time five o’clock showed up, she’d made no headway. She arranged for her mother to pick up Collin and drove straight over to the beach house to figure it out. She knocked on the door, and after several long minutes, it opened.

  She gasped. “Oh, Wes . . . you look just awful.” Disheveled hair, scruff on his chin, dark shadows underneath his eyes. She’d never seen him in such a state.

  His brow puckered. “I do?” Even his voice was a bit hoarse.<
br />
  Sophia was really beginning to worry now. “I think you should go back to bed.” She encouraged him to go inside, but he remained standing on the threshold in a wrinkled pair of night pants and a holey Alabama T-shirt. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  Wes glanced around the porch, running a hand through his hair. Then he leaned close to her ear. “It would make me feel better if you’d snuggle up with me in bed.”

  Stunned, Sophia yanked back and gawked at him. “Wes—”

  “You can be my teddy bear.” He reached for her after delivering a salacious wink.

  That’s when understanding dawned through the haze of shock. She slapped his hand away with enough force it left hers stinging. “Seth Sawyer, you scoundrel! That wasn’t nice.”

  He chuckled. “Sorry. You stepped into that one, sweetheart. I couldn’t help myself.”

  “You do look a little rough, though.” She scanned his face again and found fatigue.

  Seth’s smile faded and sadness crinkled the corners of his eyes. “We had a long night.”

  “Is Wes okay?” She tried to look past him, but Seth stepped outside and closed the door, blocking her notion of just going inside and finding out for herself.

  He rubbed the back of his neck and walked past her. “October is a bad month for him.”

  Sophia followed him to the edge of the porch. “What do you mean by that?”

  Seth eased onto the porch steps, so she smoothed her skirt and sat beside him. Once she was settled, he said, “Yesterday was the fourth anniversary of losing his wife and son. They were killed instantly when a dump truck ran through a crossroads and T-boned her car. And if that isn’t bad enough, his son, Luke, was supposed to be born that month.” He sat quietly, resting his face against the palms of his hands.

  “Poor Wes . . .” Sophia glanced around the yard. Her gaze stopped on the newly planted palm shrub, reminding her of the day she accidently killed his other one with her SUV and how Wes had helped to pull her out of a dark place that day. She wished she knew how to do the same for him. She’d banish October from the calendar if it were possible.

  Seth let out a deep sigh and dropped his hands to look at her sideways. “I don’t know what kind of delusional game the two of you are playing together with this fake dating, but you gotta see the danger in it.”

  “How?” Sure, she’d had her doubts in the beginning, but forming a friendship with Wes had been so organic and one of the easiest things she’d ever experienced. He’d been true to his word of not putting up with drama or being unnecessarily complicated.

  “You realize your son is about the same age Luke would have been?” Seth asked, drawing her out of those pleasant thoughts.

  Prickles raced along Sophia’s skin. “I’ve not thought about it . . .”

  “Yeah, well, you should. What happens when this little dating game plays out and you and your boy move on?” Seth hitched a thumb over his shoulder, concern pinching his brows. “What happens to my brother?”

  “I don’t—”

  “I’ll tell you what—he’s going to fall apart all over again.” Seth shook his head. “You didn’t see Wes at the hospital holding his dead son.” His head continued to move slowly from side to side. The memory was clearly still raw. “After . . . after it was confirmed that Luke didn’t survive either, they put Wes in a private room with Claire and the baby. My brother held the baby in one arm and Claire in the other . . . I can’t unsee that, so I know he can’t.” Seth scrubbed the tears away and sniffed before meeting Sophia’s eyes. “Please . . . you can’t hurt my brother.”

  A lump lodged in Sophia’s throat as the details solidified into an image she couldn’t fathom. She’d only thought about the possible impact of the dating ruse on Collin, not Wes. Once they ended it, she’d be there to help Collin move on, but her insides clenched with knowing that it would be Wes’s ruin. “I don’t intend to hurt him.”

  “You have to see this from where I’m sitting. Y’all hang out like a family.”

  “I do see it now. I assure you I’ll be more mindful, but I honestly enjoy my friendship with Wes.” Sophia tucked her hair behind her ear and gave Seth a soft smile. “He’s pretty spectacular.”

  Seth returned the small smile. “If my brother has let you into his circle, then that can only mean you’re pretty spectacular yourself. I just don’t want him to use your son to fill the void of losing his.”

  “Do you think that’s why Wes has gotten so attached to Collin?” Sophia asked, holding back tears.

  Seth draped an arm over her shoulder. The gesture held a brotherly quality and felt comforting. “Sweetheart, your kid is obnoxiously adorable. Anyone would get attached. Heck, he had me at ‘I pooped my pants.’” He joked but neither of them laughed.

  “Wes hasn’t talked much about losing Claire and Luke, but now that I know all of that, I promise to be more cautious.”

  “I thought he was going to mourn himself to death, to be honest with you. The hardest thing I ever witnessed. Most of that first year, Wes stayed rooted in the rocking chair in Luke’s nursery. Basically, the only time he left that room was to run the five-mile trek through the woods to the cemetery to sit by their grave for hours at a time.” Seth rubbed his forehead, looking even more haggard.

  “If it’s any consolation,” Sophia said, “I’ve seen a big change in him over the last few months. Wes looked empty when he first arrived, but he’s come to life. He goes out of his way for his patients and can give some old ladies in the community a run for their money in the spunk department.” She laughed under her breath. “But he has such a cool and understated way of doing it that most of the time people are oblivious to it.”

  Seth chuckled, but his face remained in a grimace. “Yeah, the guy has dry humor down to an art form.”

  “He’s doing okay,” Sophia reiterated, placing her hand over one of Seth’s clenched fists. The poor guy was riddled with worry for his brother. After a moment, she added, “I’d love to see him.”

  “Just give him a few days to get himself sorted.” He rose to his feet and helped her do the same.

  “Okay,” she agreed hesitantly. “But please get in touch with me if there’s anything I can do.”

  “Thanks, sweetheart.” Seth gave Sophia a one-armed hug and waited for her to leave before moving back inside.

  Resigned to giving Wes his space, Sophia decided it would give her some time to wrap her mind around the situation too. She arrived at her parents’ farm as the night sky settled around it. The smell of hamburgers wafted through the air, so she walked around to the backyard, where she found her dad by the grill. He was dressed in his favorite faded jean overalls and red flannel shirt with a straw hat pushed low on his head, the ideal picture of a Southern farmer.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  He flipped a few burgers and looked up through a steamy cloud of smoke. “Hey, darlin’. How was your day?”

  “Okay. How was yours?” Sophia saw slices of cheese on the sideboard, so she busied herself with unwrapping them.

  “Good. Got two cornfields harvested, and then the day got even better when my grandboy showed up to help me bale up the pine straw.”

  “Oh, I bet he loved that.” Sophia finished unwrapping the cheese slices and handed them to him. “Is he inside with Momma?”

  “Yep. I promised burgers if he’d take a bath.” He began topping each patty with cheese. “Little stinker didn’t want to take one.”

  “Your bacon cheeseburgers would talk a cat into taking a bath.” She inhaled deeply and savored the succulent aroma of chopped bacon and ground beef. It had been her dad’s special way of making burgers for as long as she could remember, so she decided to wait until after supper to have a talk with her mother. No need in spoiling anyone’s appetite with the sad conversation that needed to be spoken. It can hold, she promised herself, while helping her dad load the burgers onto a platter.

  After the burgers were devoured along with a mess of fresh home fries, So
phia’s dad grabbed up a mason jar and took Collin outside to collect fireflies just as he used to do with her when she was a little girl.

  Sophia stepped over to the kitchen sink, picked up a dish towel, and began drying dishes. “Momma, can I talk to you about Isabella?”

  Her mother didn’t answer right away, clearly taken aback by the request. It wasn’t that the subject of Isabella was off-limits. It was just that they rarely ventured to talk about her. “Of course, honey.” Lucy offered a weak smile while handing over a plate.

  Sophia took the Blue Willow plate and slowly dried it. Her mother insisted on always using her fine china, no matter if the meal was prime rib roast or burgers. Sophia stacked it with the others and placed them in the cabinet. By then, she’d worked up some strength to delve into the difficult topic. “How do you bear the loss of a child?”

  “You don’t,” Lucy answered in a small voice. She motioned for Sophia to follow her to the den.

  “But—”

  Lucy placed her hand on top of Sophia’s. “Sweetheart, losing a child is a wound that refuses to heal. You and Collin and your father are like salve. You soothe it enough so that I can tolerate my loss, but the wound still remains unhealed. Even after all these years.”

  Sophia was only three and her sister, Isabella, five, when Isabella was diagnosed with leukemia. She made it two years before succumbing to the disease at the age of seven.

  “What’s brought this conversation on?”

  Sophia blinked the tears away and glanced at her mother. “Wes lost his wife and unborn child in an accident four years ago this month. I’m trying to understand how to help him.” She shrugged, feeling at a loss.

  “I heard about that.”

  “How can I help him? What helps you?”

  Her mother shook her head. “I think you’re already doing what you can to help him. You and Collin seem to be a bright spot for him.”

  “And that worries me too. I don’t want him to get attached to Collin.”

  “What’s so wrong with that?”

  “Because . . .” Sophia studied the portraits lining the mantel. Family. That was the story they told. “Wes isn’t family. I don’t want him settling into a false sense that he is and end up hurting him.”