Sea Glass Castle (The Carolina Coast Series Book 3) Page 16

  “Oh, honey. That is a tough spot.” Lucy sighed. “Things are going so good with you and Wes, and honestly, I think it’s the healthiest relationship you’ve formed since the Sand Queens.”

  Sophia arched an eyebrow as she stared at her mother. “How’s a false relationship healthy?” She’d been up-front with her parents from the start about the dating charade.

  “I’m not talking about that part, but the true friendship part.” Lucy resettled on the couch and crossed her legs. “What really happened?”

  Sophia had already filled her parents in about the identical twin shock. There wasn’t much she kept from them nowadays, since realizing the error of not confiding in them about Ty. “Seth and I had a long chat before I came over here. He pretty much warned me off. Said I’d just end up hurting Wes in the long run, and to tell you the truth, I worry I will too.” She straightened the lapel of her navy suit jacket, ready to be home and in yoga pants. “I can’t chance hurting Collin or him.”

  Lucy reached over and patted her knee. “You’re scared, is all. Don’t allow fear to be your driving force. Sure, take what Seth had to say into consideration and be careful. Maybe put some space between Wes and Collin. You know I love seeing my grandson, so please take advantage of that. But don’t shut the door on you and Wes.”

  “I know . . . I just want to help him,” Sophia whispered while her thumb rubbed the back of the anchor ring.

  Her mother tapped a fingertip to the top of the ring, apparently catching her. “Seems that man has been your anchor in the last few months. Simply do the same for him.”

  Sophia gazed at the ring, remembering all the times it had reminded her that God was her anchor, just as Wes had wanted it to. But her mom was right. Somewhere along the line, Wes himself had also become an anchor for her. His attentiveness and persistence had aided in her regaining her appetite, potty training Collin, and cutting enough apron strings to allow him to go to preschool. She wasn’t blind to the fact that most of the dates they’d been on had been for her benefit more than his.

  Last week’s date flickered through her mind, lifting the corners of her lips.

  “What’s that smile over?” Lucy nudged her leg.

  Sophia bit her lip to suppress the smile. “Just thinking about Wes taking me to the Harvest Dance last week.”

  “Still can’t get over the two of you making the paper.”

  “Well, the man certainly knows how to cut a rug.” Sophia gave up and grinned even wider, reminiscing about how he dipped her and kissed the tip of her nose. It was playful, but the newspaper captured an image of it that looked much more than that. “He took me to the dance because the rumor mill said I was in hiding with bruises and a sprained wrist from Ty.”

  Sophia had taken Collin to see Ty in Columbia during his team’s bye week. In all actuality, it had been one of the smoothest visits they’d had so far, except when it came time to leave. Collin fell to pieces, and not having any power to make that particular hurt any better for her baby, Sophia started crying as well. As they loaded up to begin the trek back home, Ty had reached into the car to give her a hug. Unfortunately, the paparazzi pictures that surfaced the following day made it look like his arm was in the process of punching her instead of embracing her.

  Wes showed up at her door, demanding she put on her halter-top maxi dress to show off her bruise-free arms and shoulders and go out dancing with him. That date was all for her, even though Wes would never admit it.

  “Well, the pictures definitely debunked that rumor. Baby, you were glowing at that dance.”

  “Yes, and that was Wes being my anchor. Now I need to figure out how to be his.” Sophia stood. “Wish me luck.”

  “You don’t need luck. You just need to pay attention to your intuition.” Her mother winked before wrapping Sophia in a reassuring hug.

  •••

  Sophia listened to her intuition, giving Wes the space Seth had advised, even allowing Saturday to skip by when Wes didn’t answer her call. She figured if he needed her, he would have picked up. But by Sunday afternoon, she was about to come out of her skin. It wasn’t a “want to” but a “need to.” She needed to see him.

  Sitting on Opal’s deck in a floppy sun hat and oversize shades with the Sand Queens, a wave of déjà vu swept over her. She was even wearing black yoga pants and a black top. “We’ve already lived this scene not too long ago.”

  “Yes, but this time it’s you who’s trying to figure out a way into the vampire’s lair.” Opal tucked her lightweight cardigan around her, stretching the fabric over her baby bump.

  Sophia reached over and smoothed her palm over the taut ball and spoke to it. “Little Cole, your momma is a Froot Loop. Just warning you.”

  Opal playfully shoved Sophia away. “No more than you are.”

  Josie straightened in the wicker chair where she was slouching. “Someone is in the kitchen.”

  All eyes darted that way.

  “When are the cookies getting here?” Sophia asked as she watched the curtain over the sink flutter before the shadow disappeared. Her patience had worn so thin that she wasn’t above storming over there and going toe to toe with Seth to get inside that house.

  “Linc is on the way back with them now,” Opal answered after checking her phone. She set it down on the table and kicked her feet into a vacant chair, the glitter of her bright-green toenail polish catching in the late-day sunshine.

  Sophia crossed her arms and slumped in her chair. “Ugh. There won’t be any left by the time that big oaf gets here.”

  “Momma made two batches for that very reason. One for Linc and one for the plan.” Opal flicked her wrist dismissively, sending a tinkling sound ringing out from her bangle bracelets.

  That brilliant plan was to draw the brothers out with a phone call promising fresh-baked cookies. And not just any cookies, but Opal’s mother’s award-winning loaded chocolate chip cookies. After Linc delivered the goods—one full container and one holding only crumbs—he disappeared inside, claiming that he needed to eat something salty to balance the cookies. Opal called and left a message, and in less than ten minutes, the guys took the bait.

  The back door of Wes’s beach house swung open and produced a man on a mission. The breeze played through his caramel locks as he bounded down the deck stairs two at a time.

  “It’s always a treat to see your handsome face, Wes,” Opal commented as soon as he stood beside them on her deck. The large umbrella over the table shaded his face, but he seemed to be just fine. Sophia was relieved to see no trace of dark circles.

  “You can look all you want, just so long as you hand over those cookies.” He held his palm out and waggled his fingers impatiently until she placed the container in his hand.

  “Wait a minute,” Josie spoke up, something she rarely did. “You’re not Wes.”

  Sophia had already figured that out, but it was fun seeing her friends make the same mistake she had on Thursday. She bit her lip to hold back the smile.

  “Who are you and how’d you know that?” Seth quirked a thick eyebrow.

  “For one, you’re mouthy. Wes isn’t. You also have a tiny mole on the top of your left cheek. Wes doesn’t.”

  Seth touched a fingertip to the beauty mark. “Ain’t you observant?”

  Opal giggled. “That ain’t definitely confirmed you’re not our Wes.” She hitched a thumb in Josie’s direction as she stood up. “Josie’s an artist. She’s all about detail.” She laced her arm around Seth’s and beckoned him toward her door. “Sophia whipped up some of her homemade hot chocolate to go with the cookies. Let’s go inside and have some.”

  Seth followed her in like a starved puppy, perfectly distracted—as was the plan.

  Sophia snuck away and let herself in the back door at Wes’s. The house was quiet and each of her tiptoed steps seemed to echo as she peeked inside every room on the first floor. When they all came up empty, she left her hat and sunglasses on the couch and moved upstairs. As soon as she hit
the second-floor landing that opened into a quaint sitting area, movement out on the balcony caught her eye.

  She walked over and quietly eased open the French doors. Wes made no indication he’d heard her except for scooting over in the canvas hammock to make room for her. She glanced at the rocking chair on the other end of the balcony, where it swayed beside a small table that held a lone coffee cup. After debating a long minute, she chose to accept his silent invitation and managed to settle beside him without tossing them both out of the hammock.

  From the corner of her eye, Sophia inspected him as slyly as possible and let out a sigh of relief when she found him looking as perfect as ever in a pair of wrinkle-free lounge pants and a plain gray T-shirt. His bare feet were casually crossed at the ankles. No stubble on his chin and his hair was combed. The only thing amiss were the faint shadows underneath his hazel eyes, which were trained on her as she moved her attention up. She waited for him to call her out on staring.

  It was impossible to keep space between them in the hammock, considering it was designed to cocoon, so she relaxed her stiff posture and rolled closer. He smelled of laundry detergent and soap, and she couldn’t resist snuggling against his shoulder and reaching to entwine their hands. She felt his finger move over the band of her ring as she tried to conjure up some comforting words.

  She finally settled on asking, “Can you describe the symptoms?”

  “Oh, you know . . . the gamut of chest aches, swollen throat and eyes, insomnia . . .”

  “I’m somewhat familiar with those symptoms.” Sophia spoke in a serious tone, keeping her eyes fastened on their hands. If she looked up and connected with the grief she clearly heard in his voice, it would break her, and she wanted to be strong for him.

  “Yeah? And what do you suggest for treatment?”

  Sophia pulled her hand free so she could wrap her arm around his midsection. Holding him tightly while resting her ear over his heart, she replied, “I’m a poor excuse for a support system, but I truly want to be a better one for you.”

  Wes placed his arm around her to return the embrace, so securely that she almost rolled completely on top of him. “Sophia Grace, you sell yourself too short. You and Collin have been an antidote to many of my ailments.”

  “We have?”

  “Yes. I don’t know what all Seth said to you, but I have a pretty good guess. Just know I have a handle on things, okay?”

  She propped her chin on his chest and finally met his eyes. Sure, sorrow mixed with the various hues of his hazel eyes, but there was also a hint of gratitude and affection. “Okay. I really wish there was more I could do . . .”

  He combed his fingers through her hair, looking thoughtful, before asking, “Where’s my cookies?”

  The tightness eased in Sophia’s chest at his lighter tone. “Those weren’t for you.” She dropped her head and snuggled a little closer, enjoying his warmth as it combated the growing chill in the fall air.

  Wes dropped a foot to the floor and set the hammock on another sway. “No?”

  “Nope. They were a decoy to distract Seth so I could sneak over here. It worked, but I’m afraid those cookies are probably long gone by now.”

  “You went to that much trouble for me?”

  “Of course, and it was well worth it . . . You’re worth it.”

  Wes’s foot stilled as he put a finger underneath her chin to bring her gaze to meet his. “Thank you.”

  “I’ve missed you,” Sophia confessed.

  Crinkles formed at the corners of his eyes as he smiled. It was a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless. “I missed you too.”

  They might have only confessed to missing the other, but the wordless conversation they’d shared while holding each other said so much more.

  A link woven from grief and heartache connected them. As the fibers tightened, a luminous strand of hope began binding them together. It both thrilled and scared Sophia. A verse from the Bible flickered through her mind as Wes rested his forehead against her temple and pulled her closer. “Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.”

  Was this what God meant by that? she wondered as tears began pricking behind her closed eyes. But before she got too caught up in the emotions whirling through her, she remembered Wes’s declaration a while back. “I’m still in love with my wife. The fact that she’s dead doesn’t change how I feel about her. I have no desire to give someone else my heart when it still belongs to Claire.”

  There was no denying they shared something special, but clearly he was still grieving for his wife and child. Only time would tell if Wes could make room for Sophia and Collin in his heart.

  14

  Doc Nelson was a lunatic. Add Seth Sawyer into the mix of that lunacy, and the recipe was sure to produce a calamity of epic proportions. Oddly enough, the town trusted the two lunatics enough to let them loiter in the hallway of the police precinct instead of behind bars in a holding cell where they belonged.

  Wes wasn’t feeling as trusting as he stood there trying not to lose his cool while listening to them explain away their illegal shenanigans.

  “That game warden had no right!” Seth grouched, having the audacity to be offended. “He’s the one who acted like an idiot.”

  “Not from where I’m standing.” Wes took a deep breath and stepped out of the way of a few officers as they walked by. This was definitely not the way he wanted to spend a long lunch break on a Friday.

  “His corn bread ain’t done in the middle. That’s for sure.” Doc tossed in his two cents and crossed his arms on a loud harrumph. “The nerve of that kid . . . arresting me after I used to treat him for those nasty ear infections.”

  Wes glared at the two soggy men sitting on the bench, looking like petulant children awaiting a spanking. If they weren’t grown men, Wes might have been tempted to do just that. The puddles underneath their feet indicated they’d already paid some price for their crime.

  “I cannot wrap my mind around the fact that you two thought it made sense to try to outswim a boat.” Wes rubbed his temples.

  “It made more sense than being sitting ducks on the water,” Doc fired back, even though it didn’t help his cause in Wes’s opinion.

  Wes raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Look, old man, I realize you’re healthier than most eighteen-year-olds, but you need to realize you don’t have to act as senseless as one.”

  Seth stood, his shoes squeaking against the tile floor. “Don’t talk to my buddy like that.”

  Wes gave him a stern look, the one he’d been forced to give his twin in more instances than he cared to recall, effectively sending Seth back to a seated position. “It’s not like either one of you can’t afford a saltwater license. Or to go to the seafood market and simply purchase a mess of legal clams.”

  “It ain’t about the money. It’s about principle.” Seth jabbed a finger in the air like a preacher would do when making a valid point. In his case, he wasn’t even making any sense.

  “And what principle would that be?” When his brother didn’t answer, because it was obvious the two men just wanted to rebel against the saltwater laws and cause a ruckus, Wes left them dripping on the bench to find the game warden who had dredged them out of the inlet.

  Fifteen minutes later, Wes signed the documents the game warden handed over. He was a burly man, tall with a bushy beard and matching eyebrows, and his name seemed to suit him. Bruce.

  “Using M-80s to blow a hole in the mud, instead of digging for the clams, was a rather clever idea. If they’d had a license and hadn’t made a run for it, I’d probably have let them off with just a warning.” Bruce placed the credit card on the counter and clicked a few keys on the computer, and the printer spit out a receipt.

  Wes handed over the pen and slid the papers across the counter. “I understand. Hopefully this will teach them a lesson.” He put the credit card back in his wallet and then pulled his phone out to call August.

  With Sophia dragging him to most gatherings
with her friends, it meant Wes spent a good amount of time with August and Lincoln. A friendship was inevitable, even though those two couldn’t have been more of Wes’s opposite. They were outdoorsy types. Wes liked to run, but that was the extent of his outdoor adventures. They were big and burly. Wes knew he was only of average build and on the preppy side. God had divvied out a major helping of creativity to both the famous artist and the eclectic architectural engineer. Wes was all about medical breakthroughs and current studies. It definitely made for some interesting conversations.

  August answered on the second ring. “Hey, man. What’s up?”

  “I’ve just sprung two hoodlums from jail. Do you think you could give them a lift home so I can get back to work?”

  No way was Wes allowing them to make a soggy mess in his car, and he knew for a fact that August’s truck was coated in mud at the moment. He’d shown up in it that morning to collect some sponsorship paperwork and Wes’s donation for the Seashore Wishes mud run they were hosting at the Palmetto Fine Arts Camp. Seashore Wishes was a worthy foundation, aiding wounded war veterans in finding new careers. Lincoln was a wounded veteran himself. He’d told Wes about his struggles to overcome his leg injury and find a new path in life. Lincoln had formed the charity earlier in the year when he felt God calling him to help others in similar situations. The entire town stepped up to support it, and Carolina Pediatrics was on board as well.

  “No problem. I have to get Linc from Bless This Mess and then I’ll be there.”

  “I’m not putting you out, am I?” Wes knew they were busy setting up for the run that night.

  “Not at all. We heard what Doc and your brother did. Can’t wait to razz the old man about it.” August’s deep chuckle echoed through the phone before he disconnected.

  Shortly after, Wes squinted his eyes and waved as the muddy truck turned in to the station. The three men stood outside in the midday sun, where two of them were trying to dry out a bit. Linc and August waved back as the truck came to a halt beside them.