CHAPTER FIFTEEN

E ven though she’d picked the most pleasant ringtone she could find to act as her morning alarm, Chloe still growled when it penetrated her lovely dream.

She’d just gone to bed, right?

At least it felt that way.

She’d been working at the pub for eight weeks now, and at the hostel for about five. And even though she liked both jobs, it felt like she was burning the candle at both ends. She couldn’t remember the last time she was this perpetually tired. Wasn’t Hawke supposed to find somebody else to work at the hostel? She was only meant to be there temporarily. Was he even looking?

Business at the hostel was still slow, which worried Hawke—and Chloe. She didn’t want him to have to close down his business. The news about what happened to her with Orrin and Joey was probably deterring people from applying for the front desk job. As much as she knew none of it was her fault, guilt still clung to every cell of her body like a parasite. Did she overreact to the whole thing? Or perhaps she could have kept things quieter? Hawke didn’t deserve the boycott. Joey duped him, and everybody else, into thinking he was an upstanding guy.

As far as jobs went, the hostel was easy. She sat around a lot reading spicy romance on her phone and occasionally changed bedding, or helped a guest with some directions or book a tour. It was the bartending that ran her off her feet. People headed in droves to their local, warm watering hole when the weather turned nasty. And right now, Mother Nature had an endangered bee in her bonnet and was pummeling the entire West Coast with icy rain and gale force winds. You couldn’t drive down the road without having to swerve around fallen branches.

The first terrible storm of the year—according to Clint—was on Thanksgiving. The restaurant was set to host a turkey dinner with all the trimmings—a tradition apparently—but they had to cancel because no ferries with freight were able to cross to the island due to the tumultuous water. Wyatt, of course, made do with what he had, and whipped up a giant pot of chili, another one of chowder, and a vegetarian soup. Then, he invited any islanders that could make it, but a lot chose to stay home in case a tree decided to give up the good fight and fall across the road. So chili, soup, and chowder were on the menu the entire following week.

It was Saturday morning, the first week of December, and rather than peel her ass out of bed, Chloe grabbed the spare pillow on the bed and covered her face with it, willing the clock to turn back even just an hour so she could get a bit more shut-eye. Last night’s weather was particularly ugly, with the power going out for about thirty minutes around nine o’clock. That didn’t deter people from staying at the pub though. They were non-stop until last call.

Nobody wanted to leave and drive home in a proverbial monsoon, which meant the patrons got rowdy.

It wasn’t anything they couldn’t handle, but more than once she and Logan had to tell that group of twenty-something girls to get down off their table, and that tables were for plates, bowls, and cups, not for standing or dancing.

Chloe felt like she was a primary teacher again using that language, and by the time she got back to her cabin, she barely had enough energy to take off her eye makeup.

But that was a good thing. Being exhausted beyond the ability to move or think was a good thing. At first, she thought the fatigue and brain fog were from lack of water. She had a hard time remembering to drink anything when the pub was so busy. She asked Burke for a small glass of pickle juice to replenish her electrolytes, then set a timer on her phone for every twenty minutes so she remembered to drink. It seemed to help with the brain fog, but not with the exhaustion.

Maybe the incredible exhaustion was a good thing though, because had she had any remaining energy reserves, she probably would have used them to climb the hill, figure out which house was Dom’s, and knock for a booty call.

Which was all kinds of wrong, she knew that. Didn’t make her want him any less.

Seeing him in passing every day was enough to keep the embers of desire burning inside of her hot enough to roast a marshmallow. He hadn’t tried anything in a month though. Not since their two-time mistake in the cash room. She couldn’t go into that room without getting warm and tingly though. The memories were embedded into the walls, buried deep in her skin, and branded into her brain for eternity.

Dom definitely had a dominant side, and she was all over that.

Or at least she would be if they had any kind of a future.

Which they didn’t.

Totally depleted, she was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow, which honestly felt like five minutes ago.

A quick check at the time said it was seven o’clock.

Growling again, she tossed the spare pillow from her face, peeled herself out of bed, and swung her legs over the side. She hadn’t even had enough energy to shower last night.

A quick sniff of her pits said she needed to shower before yoga. Deodorant wouldn’t cut it.

But first, coffee.

The elixir of the gods.

And the only reason she was able to even keep her eyes open as she drove down the quiet, wet roads of the island toward the yoga yurt.

Even though Brooke and Vica offered for her to ride with them, she was going to head straight to the hostel for her afternoon shift, so she declined.

Justine had to work all day Friday, so it was just Brooke, Vica, and Jordana that came into the pub the night before. They weren’t as rowdy as those younger women, but they knew how to let their hair down. Vica said she was “this close,” and made a pincher with her fingers, to convincing Dom to get a karaoke machine for the pub and holding karaoke nights.

Something told Chloe that Vica wasn’t as close as she thought she was.

Dom would never allow karaoke in his bar. The man was way too serious and grumpy for such benign shenanigans.

“There she is,” Brooke sung, coming out of a sitting forward fold, as Chloe entered the studio. “What time did the pub finally close down last night?”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “I didn’t leave until after midnight. There were so many glasses to clean, and some people—not you guys—eat like pigs. The amount of food on the floor …” She shook her head. “It was like toddlers were at the table.”

Jordana and Vica both snickered.

Chloe unrolled her mat beside Jordana and immediately went into child’s pose to stretch her lower back. All that standing last night, even on the fatigue mats, was wreaking havoc on her hips.

They chatted a bit more, the four of them, then Lotus walked in and asked them to turn their conversations inward for the next hour.

Bad idea.

Chloe’s brain couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Her vagina and clit were doing all the talking. And they were LOUD. And it was the same argument every day for the last month. They berated her for dismissing Dom—who was the best sex she’d ever had—and using the lame excuse of him being her boss as the reason they couldn’t be together.

But it wasn’t just that.

Yes, that was a huge part of it. The power dynamic was messed up, and even though she would never accuse him of sexual harassment or misconduct, the other staff members could get resentful and say he was playing favorites or something. She didn’t want to lose the friends she was making, now that she’d finally decided to put down some shallow roots.

His jealousy and protectiveness regarding her working for Hawke at the hostel shouldn’t have turned her on, but it did. Nobody had ever gotten jealous over her, or possessive like that. It made her feel desired, wanted, and that just made her all the more attracted to him.

Who was she kidding? Everything he did turned her on. Even when he made that sexy, grumpy face or growled in frustration under his breath. But what really got her engine revving was when he got frustrated—or aroused—and tore his man bun out of the elastic, and his long hair fell forward, framing his angular jaw.

That made her purr like a kitten.

The other big factor in all of it though, was Silas.

Was she ready to be with someone who had a kid? Could she handle that? Even though Elliot had been gone four years, the scars across her heart were still so deep that she wasn’t sure she could ever be around another child—another little boy—without being overly protective, but also guarded. Her heart was afraid to love another child again.

All she could see when she looked at Silas’s face, was Elliott.

So as badly as a lot of her body parts wanted her to throw caution to the wind and pursue things with Dom, because anything that felt that good couldn’t be wrong, another big part of her—the fractured and scarred part of her heart, kept telling her no.

She went through the motions of the all the yoga postures, but her heart wasn’t in it. Her mind was so busy, her thoughts were so loud, that she couldn’t focus on her breath or quiet her thoughts for anything. Luckily, the class went by quickly, and she was saying, “ Namaste ,” with the rest of them in no time.

“Booch and Bagels?” Jordana asked, tucking her purple yoga mat under her freckled arm.

“Obviously,” Brooke said. Vica nodded too.

Chloe checked her watch. Did she have time to run into the center of town and grab a kombucha and bagel with the girls?

It was nine o’clock now, and she told Hawke she’d be there by ten. Yeah, she had time.

Besides, she needed to prioritize these new friendships and make an effort.

“Meet you there,” she said.

They didn’t have to wait too long for their booch or bagels, and by nine thirty, they were all sitting at one of the wooden picnic benches in the center of the vendor pavilion at the base of the stairs to the grocery store. The rain had finally ebbed, and now the island was coated in a light layer of mist and fog. Every now and then, the baritone bellow of the foghorn at Moray Point would interrupt their conversations. But it was a comfort, not an intrusion. Most of all, they were just happy that the wind had finally taken a break and wasn’t tearing the limbs off the trees like they were made of soggy paper.

Jordana found them a covered picnic table and they all slid onto the benches.

“I heard from Clint about what happened with Silas yesterday,” Brooke said, sipping her watermelon and mint kombucha. “Have you guys heard anything else?”

Vica shook her head. “No. Dom spoke with the mom at the Halloween party, but she was very dismissive. Said that Dom was raising a ‘sissy’.”

“She said what ?” Chloe exclaimed.

Vica simply nodded, but then wrinkled her nose. “What is a ‘sissy’?”

“A wimp,” Brooke replied with venom not directed at Vica. “She’s basically saying Dom is raising a wimpy, weak, overly sensitive kid.” She shook her head. “She’s basically raising her daughter to believe that boys— men —should be emotionless robots and not feel. This is exactly what we’re trying to get away from. Men need to feel. Men need to cry. Boys need to be able to express themselves safely and without just resorting to violence, anger, and aggression.”

“We tell the boys all the time that it’s okay to cry,” Vica said. “I secretly love it when Griffon—or Jake—come to me for a comforting hug and they feel safe and comfortable enough with me to cry. It is an honor.”

“Wait, so something else has happened to Silas since Carnation sat on his chest and threatened to rub dirt in his face if he didn’t kiss her?” Jordana asked. “Because that was like almost a month ago that happened, right? When Dom went and yelled at Principal Pickford and got kicked off school property.”

Chloe’s mouth hung open in utter shock.

The other women nodded like they’d heard all of this. But it was all fresh news to Chloe. Then again, she was doing her very best to avoid Dom. So far, she had succeeded. She only saw him for about ten minutes in passing when they traded off at the bar.

“What happened yesterday?” Chloe asked, a sick sense of déjà vu bubbled hot and restless in her veins.

Vica’s brown eyes turned sad. “Carnation started to tease Silas about his mom being dead. Said it was good his mom was dead because she wouldn’t want a wimp or sissy like him for a son anyway. Then she pinched him on the arm. You should see the bruise.” She frowned. “My heart breaks for him. And for Dom.”

Jordana shook her head. “I know Georgia and Penelope have said that Carnation is a bully on the playground. When they see her, they run in the other direction.”

“And nobody is stopping this kid?” Chloe asked, biting into her cream cheese slathered sun-dried tomato and asiago bagel, otherwise she was going to chip a tooth she was clenching her jaw so tight.

Jordana cleared her throat, lifted her brows, and shifted her gaze. “The mother is right there,” she said out the side of her mouth.

All three women nearly got whiplash they spun around so fast to look. A blonde woman in black yoga tights, Blundstone boots, and a teal Lululemon hoodie stood in line at Booch and Bagels.

“Well, jeez,” Jordana said with an eyeroll, “don’t all look at once.”

Even though her heart was torn and confused about her inconvenient feelings for Dom, hearing about Silas stirred up all kinds of grief and sad emotions inside her. Chloe was still a mama bear deep down. The instinct to protect a cub—even if it wasn’t her cub—dug in its claws. “So, tell me exactly what happened on the playground between Silas and—” She made sure she wasn’t quiet, and by the way the other woman’s posture changed, Chloe knew she was listening.

“Carnation,” Vica added, picking up on Chloe’s train of thought. “Well, from what I understand, Carnation has been chasing Silas around the playground a lot lately. She keeps trying to kiss him. But he has politely declined. He’s only six. And I don’t know many six-year-old boys who want to kiss any girls. Anyway, she called him a sissy and said it was a good thing his mom was dead.”

“Then she pinched him, didn’t she?” Brooke asked, increasing the volume of their conversation even more.

Vica nodded. “Yes, that’s right. You should see the bruise. It is very big, and purple. The size of a clementine or so.”

“Oh my,” Jordana said with a bit of drama to her tone. “Then what happened?”

Chloe’s lip twitched and the other three women smiled.

“Aya ran up and bit Carnation on the hand to get her to let go of Silas.” Vica clicked her tongue. “And just like last time, Aya is the only one getting in trouble. She’s been suspended for two days and has to spend a week in detention, not going out for recess.”

Aya was a scrappy little thing. But at least her intentions were good. Chloe would make sure to never get on the little girl’s bad side.

“You mean Carnation didn’t get in any trouble?” Jordana asked.

“None,” Vica said even louder.

“And how is Silas doing?” Chloe asked.

“He’s scared to go back to school.” Vica’s brown eyes tipped up to Carnation’s mother, who was getting her order. “The little guy is so sweet, and quiet, and shy. I feel very bad for him. To be too afraid to go to school because of a bully.”

They all agreed—loudly.

“Something needs to be done,” Brooke added. “I know Dom spoke with one of Carnation’s parents at the Halloween party, but have they been addressed since this new incident?”

“I’m one of Carnation’s parents,” came the smooth, indignant voice of the blonde in the teal hoodie. “Why don’t you speak to me?”

“Oh, Wynona!” Jordana said, faking surprise pretty convincingly. “I didn’t see you there.”

Wynona’s blue eyes formed thin slits, but her fake lashes were so thick and long it was hard to tell if she could see anything. “I’m sure.” Then she regarded the rest of them. “You’ve heard the story from your sons , now how about the story from my daughter ?”

“There are always two sides to every story,” Chloe said, her palm up, offering Wynona the stage.

Wynona used her long, bedazzled, fake nails to carefully flip her hair over her shoulder. “Griffon, Jake, and Silas were chasing Carnation. She asked them to stop. They cornered her on the blacktop by the four square and said if she didn’t kiss them, they’d push her to the ground. Then Aya ran up out of nowhere and bit Carnation. You should see the mark on her hand. She needed an ice pack.”

Even if Chloe didn’t have an instinctive urge to protect Dom’s child, she wouldn’t have bought any of that bullshit. Was Wynona that stupid? “Soooo, Carnation was doing nothing to Silas to prompt Aya to bite her?” Chloe asked.

“She was not,” Wynona argued. “It was entirely unprovoked.”

“I’m pretty sure even the duty teacher would say otherwise,” Jordana countered. “My kids were on the playground down below and saw Carnation bothering Silas. Then they saw Aya run up and bite her. They all heard him crying. And your daughter yelling and calling him a sissy and speaking about his dead mother.”

Wynona’s contoured cheeks colored—even more—and her nostrils flared. “All I know is that Carnation is being targeted. The McEvoy kids are menaces—particularly Aya. They torment her constantly and we’ve had enough. I’ve told her to fight back. And maybe that’s what she was doing if she was pinching Silas.”

Brooke made a noise in her throat and shook her head, her green eyes fierce. “She was picking on Silas, and has been for months. He’s the smallest McEvoy. And the shiest. Have your extensions wormed their way into your brain? She’s nearly twice the size of Silas. And he’s little for six. You know what your child is capable of, and yet, you’re choosing to remain ignorant. You’re choosing not to do anything about it.”

“Small people can still be nasty.” Wynona lifted her chin high.

“Oh, that they can,” Vica said. “You’re raising one.”

Wynona’s whole face pinched. “I don’t know why any of you think you deserve to have an opinion on this. Besides you, Jordana, the rest of you aren’t even mothers. You don’t even have kids of your own. You’re just playing house with the McEvoys and pretending. ”

“ Mi scusi?” Vica exclaimed, stomping and about to stand up.

But Chloe stopped her with a hand on her shoulder and leveled her gaze at Wynona. “If blood is all you think makes a parent—makes family—then I really pity you. You’re a sad, pathetic person to use that kind of an excuse and insult. And to stoop that low means you know deep down, you’ve lost this fight. That we’re right. You’re wrong. And you’re raising a monster.”

Pulling in a deep breath through her nose, the whole top half of Wynona’s body puffed up and she glared down at them. “I don’t have to sit here and take this.”

“You’re standing,” Chloe said blandly. “And you interrupted us . You definitely don’t have to stay.” Then she stood up and got right into Wynona’s face. “However, if I hear that your child touched Silas—or any of the McEvoy children again—there will be consequences. I know where you live.” She didn’t, but all she had to do was ask Jolene Dandy and she’d have Wynona’s address in a flash.

Wynona’s eyes went wide, then they narrowed again, and defiance flashed back at Chloe. “I don’t even know who the hell you are.”

“Good. I like it like that.” Chloe sat back down and brought her paper straw to her mouth to take a sip of her peach and passion fruit kombucha.

“Your breath smells like cream cheese and sun-dried tomatoes.” Now Wynona was grasping for anything she could to save face.

Chloe merely found the woman’s lame attempt at an insult amusing. “Because that’s what I’m eating? At least you’ve got one thing going for you—since your parenting clearly sucks—and that’s a good sense of smell.”

Jordana, Brooke, and Vica all snickered and covered their mouths.

Wynona’s lips parted in offended shock, and she huffed. “Why, you …”

Chloe waved her fingers goodbye. “Nice meeting you, Wynona. Go home and discipline your child—for once.”

Then they watched as Wynona stalked off, her flaxen hair swishing back and forth behind her.

Once she was out of sight, they all burst out laughing.

“Oh my god,” Jordana exclaimed. “Chloe Voss, who knew you were such a badass?”

“That was some serious mama-bearing right there,” Brooke added. “Well done.”

“I love Griffon and Jake like they’re my own, but I’m still learning how to be that … protective,” Vica said. “How’d you …”

They all stared at her in marveled appreciation.

She swallowed, still smiling, but the ribbons of grief were once again wrapping around her heart and squeezing. “I, uh … I am a mom.”

All their eyes widened in surprise.

She sipped more of her kombucha. “Yeah, um … I mean, I guess I was .”

Three faces fell.

“My son died four years ago,” she said with emotion snagging in her throat and making her words come out high-pitched and tight. “And until he joined soccer, he really struggled to make friends. He was bullied too. He was on the smaller side like Silas. Shy, but with the kindest heart. He had a lot of energy and was super creative. He just … he wasn’t one of those kids who needed the spotlight. So sometimes he got forgotten or lost in the background.” The backs of her eyes burned, and her bottom lips wobbled.

Jordana was closest to her and rubbed her back, encouraging Chloe to lean her head on her shoulder, so she did.

She exhaled and absorbed the other women’s sad expressions. Though, it wasn’t pity in their eyes, it was grief. Even though they didn’t know Elliott, they felt Chloe’s loss right along with her. They didn’t allow her to feel it all alone, to carry the burden of its weight all by herself. It was more comforting than she expected.

She huffed a humorless laugh. “Besides Dom, you’re the first people I’ve told about Elliott. I don’t know why I was keeping him a secret. He was my absolute greatest achievement.”

“Because it still hurts,” Jordana said softly. “But it can be easier, it can feel like a relief to share that pain. Let others lighten your load for you.”

“Like us,” Brooke said.

Vica and Brooke each rested a hand on her knee and gave her a squeeze.

Chloe nodded. “It does.”

“I think Elliott would be really proud of his mama right now,” Vica said, her voice hoarse with emotion as well. “That she stood up for another child like I’m sure you stood up for him.”

“Just because your child is no longer here, doesn’t mean you’re not a mom for life,” Brooke added, her green eyes glassy. “You raised him for as long as you could. You are Elliott’s mom and always will be.”

Now the tears were falling with abandon down all of their faces.

“I’m really lucky to have met you ladies,” Chloe said, using her napkin to wipe her eyes and nose. “Thank you. This … this means a lot and it’s helped more than you know.”

Gravel crunched under feet behind them, and Chloe and Jordana turned around to find Justine there, her eyes wary and curious. “Heyyy,” she said softly, taking in all their tear-stained faces. “I just finished at the clinic and was too hungry to make it home. Plus, I figured you’d all be here after yoga. Everything okay?”

Brooke scooted over and patted the bench beside her. “Take a seat. We’ll fill you in.”

“I’ll grab your food,” Vica said standing up. “Regular order?”

“Please,” Justine replied, still giving them all curious looks.

They filled her in on everything that took place since she left for her shift at the clinic yesterday afternoon.

By the time they were done, Justine also had tears in her eyes. “You’re a badass mama bear,” she said, swallowing hard. “I love Aya and Emme more than anything, but I’m not sure I could have done what you did.”

“I think you could.” Chloe turned to Brooke, and Vica too. “I think you all could. And I’ve only met Silas once, and it was awkward, because the moment I saw him all I could see was Elliott’s face. It was like I was standing up for Elliott, not Silas.” She glanced at Jordana. “Is that wrong?”

Jordana shook her head. “Absolutely not. You were standing up for a child who needed it. Doesn’t matter who it was, or what prompted you to do it. Your instinct kicked in and you just acted on it.”

“I’m really loving the big pussy energy of our little group,” Brooke said, opening her arms wide and wrapping them around Justine and Vica. Jordana and Chloe opened up their arms and closed the circle. “We’re all badass mama bears.”

With their heads inward, Vica asked in her thick Italian accent, which just made it more hilarious, “Do we want big pussies? What about tight pussy energy? I’m not sure I would be happy to have a big pussy. Would make tampons and things very challenging to keep in.”

Jordana was the first to snort, then Justine, and finally Chloe.

“Did I say something wrong?” Vica asked innocently as their hug-circle broke apart. “Am I wrong?”

Brooke had tears of laughter in her eyes. “No. You’re not wrong. Fine then, tight pussy energy.”

Now they were all laughing again, tears running down their cheeks.

Chloe glanced at her watch as she took a much-needed sip of her kombucha. That’s when she saw that it was five minutes to ten. She leaped up from her spot at the table. “Oh my god! I have to go. I promised Hawke I’d be there at ten to relieve him at the hostel. Shit. Shit. Shit.”

Vica waved her hand casually. “It will be fine. Just walk in there with that tight pussy energy and act like you own the place. Hawke will say no words.”

“I’d rather Hawke not think about my tight pussy energy, thank you.”

“But you want Dom to, right?” Brooke teased, bobbing her brows up and down.

“You’re not helping. I have to go.”

“Byyyyyeeee,” Jordana sung. “T.P.E. for life!”

Then the other women all chanted loudly, “T.P.E!” as Chloe raced to her car, an enormous smile on her face, and a lightness in her heart she hadn’t felt since that night on the beach she told Dom—the first person since the accident—about Elliott.

Maybe the path to healing wasn’t keeping it all bottled up inside, but letting it out and allowing others to share in your grief.

After all, many hands make light work.