Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

VALENTIN

Susurration, NC

Route 26 is now closed.

I read the emergency text, place my phone on the railing, and go back to looking out. If I keep my eyes focused on the sea as it whispers on the rocks with the ebb and flow of the waves. The water is back to blue as far as my eyes can see—none of the violent gray before the storm or the murky brown in the aftermath. I can almost pretend nothing happened.

Like some buildings never collapsed.

And trees didn’t fall.

The water is serene and relaxing as if it didn’t have the power to crush and devastate the land.

We were the lucky ones in Susurration. All that was lost can be replaced or fixed. Other towns were not as fortunate.

I breathe in the salty air and keep my eyes from seeing the neighboring buildings on each side. I need a few minutes without seeing the damage. I will be helping undo it, but for now, I need the peace I came five years ago to find in this place. Who knew the weird ass stilts I clowned so much when I moved here would prove to be the salvation of my bed and breakfast. Many businesses built on the ground could not withstand the storm’s fury. Ana Talia — named after my grandma — like its namesake, stood tall and proud when the surge came after us.

While I appreciated the validation that I spent my life savings on renovations that could make this place almost indestructible, I could have lived without seeing the hotel next door flooded and the staff rushing to the upper floors. The screaming still rings in my ears, and the barking of that dog getting carried away by the tide lives in my soul.

Still, I have never lived anywhere so resilient. The way we all banded together makes me feel like I am home for the first time since my senior year in high school. I was a dumb kid who thought he knew hardship, only to find out months later that I’d never known adversity. That was just life. How many times in the past fifteen years have I wished I could return to those days in Yonkers, goofing off in Getty Square and sneaking into Tibbetts Brook Park to swim in the members-only pool with my best friend?

Our laughter echoes in my memory, as do the words, “She’s gone, and you need to get the hell out of here before I call the police.”

I shake my head like I do every time that day haunts me. It was the first time I tasted the consequences of my actions. But learning the true meaning of loss set me on the path of the Army, my friendship with Kyle, and brought me to Susurration.

I stretch my arms to the sky and turn around. The view sets a pang through my chest. The beautiful island and colorful homes are in varying states of damage. The now abandoned hotel next door, usually full of people lounging around, is a graveyard of chairs, outdoor couches, dragged-in trash, and broken windows. The tears don’t fill my eyes like they did five days ago.

“It’s not the time to cry for what we’ve lost; it’s time to suit up and help our neighbors,” Deborah, the town pastor, said at the gathering after the storm passed.

We took it as a rallying cry and got to work, restoring the homes to livable condition. The school is next.

The whirring of an engine breaks through my thoughts, getting louder and closer. The tires against the still soggy ground serve as a bell that announces an arrival.

When the sleek navy-blue BMW pulls up, I go under Ana Talia to the front. The SUV with New Jersey plates pulls into one of the parking spots. The driver’s door swings open, and the scent of new leather sneaks up my nostrils as I reach the car. Out steps a woman in dark shades. She spots me, closes the door, and holy hell, the curves on her. She’s wearing a matching ensemble, zip-up jacket, and yoga pants, enhancing her every blessing. When my gaze reaches her face, she flips up the glasses, her eyes round, and her mouth drifts open.

It’s so familiar. It’s like the earlier memory ricocheted over the ocean to come back and hit me in my chest.

I know her. Hell, I more than know her. She lives rent-free in my head, haunting me like the true ghost of my past.

“Alondra,” I rasp out.

“Vale?” She shakes her head and clears her throat. “Valentin?”

I smile despite the knocking in my chest. “What are you doing here?”

She doesn’t smile back but turns to the road, probably looking for an escape route. “I had reservations at the Blue Ridge, but it’s closed.”

Of course, she did. Did you think she was here for you?

I nod. “Yeah, it was badly damaged by the storm.”

“Someone said the B&B down the road was opened.” That’s when her gaze lands on the sign, and her shoulders sag. “Ana Talia. I didn’t know the name. I would have known…”

She trails off.

“I can’t believe you remember.”

A slight smile hits the corners of her mouth. “I knew your family history better than my own. But look, I don’t want to bother you. I’ll head back home.”

Something akin to panic sets off, replacing the burn in my chest.

“Where’s home?”

“Jersey,” she answers.

I shake my head. “They sent a message fifteen minutes ago. 26, the only route to I95, is closed. A couple of trees collapsed.”

She turns to her car and shoots over her shoulder, “I don’t think so. I was on 26 an hour ago.”

“One of the rescue cranes crashed against a drop-off truck. There’s debris everywhere. You’re lucky it didn’t happen with you on it.” Even as I say the words, they feel tinted in nice-nasty tone.”

She stops and faces me again. “What am I supposed to do now?”

The tremble in her voice and the way she sags against her car tell me everything I need to know. She’s been driving too long and is exhausted.

I’m on a WhatsApp chat with a friend from back home who mentioned she’s involved in the Briddams scandal.

“Are you running from the law?” I ask.

The color bursts all over her brown skin. She springs away from the car and steps right in my face.

“Of course not. I’m not a fucking crook. I didn’t know any of that shit was happening. Not that I owe you explanations. It’s rich that you, of all people, should be pointing fingers at me.”

Her anger doesn’t shock me. She was always calm until she wasn’t.

“It’s a normal question if I let you stay at my place.”

She scoffs in a way that revs my blood because I missed this — her temper flares, and her laughter.

“I never said I’m staying. I refuse to inconvenience you. I’ll find another place.”

I chuckle. “You’ll probably have to sleep in your car and shower in the ocean. Every other place is damaged or fully booked.”

She opens her mouth, then closes it, only to open it again. Finally, she slumps against her car in defeat. “Do you take credit cards? I’ll need a room until they fix the roads. Then, I’m headed back home where I should have stayed.”

I point toward upstairs, but instead of my office, I show her to the Talin, the room that faces the water.

“I need to pay.”

I nod. “The Wi-Fi is down. Get some rest first. I’m going out into town and will be back in this afternoon. Help yourself to any food in the pantry. There are bottles of water in the fridge. Don’t drink water from the faucet, but you can shower with it. We can settle the payment later.”

I leave her with that. When I come back, I plan on getting some answers, like what really happened with her boss in New York and why she left all those years ago without a word.