1. Chapter 1

Chapter one

Grady

Present Day

“There you go, Mrs. Hansen.” I rip the invoice from the printer tray and hand it to her across the counter. A smudge of grease transfers from my fingers to the paper, but that’s pretty par for the course when you work on cars for a living.

“Thank you, Grady.”

“My pleasure.”

“I’ll see you in another five-thousand miles.” She winks and heads for the door.

“I’ll be here.” Watching her leave the office, I sigh as I file away the invoice for processing later, wondering if all my days will feel this way from now on—monotonous and dull.

At least Mrs. Hansen doesn’t flirt with me when she comes in. That’s a welcome reprieve from my normal customer—single, female, and plenty of cleavage on display.

I swear, it’s like these women don’t realize I don’t play professional baseball anymore. They still act like I’m some big star and practically throw themselves at me. Any normal red-blooded male would tell me to stop complaining and take the bait that’s being offered, but those days are behind me.

Now that I’m back in Carrington Cove and far from no-strings hookups, it’s been just me and my hand. My days are filled with running my business: oil changes, tire rotations, radiator leaks—the list goes on and on. I guess I shouldn’t complain about my life now… Working on cars was my second passion, one I left behind willingly for the chance to play professional baseball.

I should be grateful that Carrington Cove Auto Repair was available to purchase when I moved back home. Mr. Rogers practically begged me to buy the place, knowing that I was familiar with the ins and outs of the business. He was my boss during the summers once upon a time. From the age of fourteen, I followed him around the property and absorbed everything he could teach me about cars. I sure as hell wasn’t going to learn it from my own father, who took off shortly after my younger sister, Astrid, was born. And my mom was so busy working two jobs to keep us fed and housed that the last thing on her mind was worrying about me learning skills any self-respecting man should know.

Besides, she pushed me to play baseball since she knew my aspirations of playing professionally were something I actually had a shot at. She saw my talent and so did my coaches, and she didn’t want me to miss out on an opportunity so few actually get.

But working here, learning a skill besides how to pitch, brought me extra money and pride. So, when I lost the main part of my identity almost five years ago, I gravitated toward the only other thing I knew, hoping it would help mend the hole in my chest left by the end of my baseball career .

“Hey, I need your expertise on this car.” Chet, my right-hand man, pokes his head in the main office from the garage, pulling me back to the present.

“Be right there.” I click around on the computer, take note of the open customer files we still have, and glance at the clock, counting down the minutes until lunch time so I can fuel the never-ending pit of my stomach and catch up with my friends. Taking hour-long lunch breaks on Thursdays is one of the perks of being the owner, and today I have another place to go as well, giving me a break from the monotony of the day.

Grady’s Garage smells of oil, rubber, and hard work as I walk over to where Chet is leaning over the engine compartment of an ’81 Z28 Camaro a customer has asked us to rebuild. To keep the business afloat, I knew I had to expand our services beyond routine maintenance. Between Chet and me, our knowledge of classic cars is extensive, so to bring in extra revenue, we rebuild and repair older cars in between our regular customers from Carrington Cove. This Camaro actually belongs to a guy who lives in Georgia.

I glance toward the ’73 Nova sitting in the corner, wondering if I should bite the bullet and finally start working on my own project like I said I would when I moved back home. But this new life of mine kind of got in the way.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Chet asks as I bump my shoulder against his and peer down inside the engine compartment.

“Fuck. Yup, that’s the water pump. Should have known to look there first. It’s a notorious problem with these cars.”

He nods. “Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t seeing things.”

I clasp him on the shoulder. “Nope, your eyes are fine. I’ll contact my parts guy and see how long it’ll take to track one down. Let me call him before I go to lunch. Hopefully, we’ll have an answer before I get back. I also planned to stop by the bakery to see my sister since she was gone this past weekend and has her big event in two days. I just want to make sure she’s not going insane.”

Astrid recently bought the old Sunshine Bakery in town, renaming and renovating the place to make it her own, and this weekend she’s catering a Morgan Hotel party in Raleigh that Dallas’s new girlfriend, Willow, orchestrated with her connection from her advertising business.

I’m so fucking proud of her. She spent years not chasing her dreams because her husband didn’t support her and made her feel less than. But after he died, she started living her life differently and finally took a risk a few months ago to pursue the career she’s always wanted. This past weekend she ventured out of town for a break, and I’m proud of her for that too. She’s been working so hard since she bought the bakery, and she deserved the reprieve.

Maybe I should take a page out of her book and take a break too. Maybe I’m getting burned out.

Or maybe I’m going a little nuts since I haven’t gotten laid in eight months.

A dry spell can do weird things to a man.

Chet laughs. “No problem. I can hold down the fort.”

“I know you can. Thanks, man.” He tips his chin in acknowledgment and then turns back to the car just as my cell phone vibrates in my pocket. But when I take it out and see the name on the screen, I silence the call immediately and let it go to voicemail. Irritation fills my veins as reminders of my former life flood my mind, pushing me even harder to take care of my responsibilities and head to lunch, grateful for the distraction since I really need it today.

** *

“You’re here early.” Dallas Sheppard, my childhood friend, greets me with an arch of his brow as I head for the bar he’s standing behind. As planned, Dallas left for the Marines right after high school and returned to Carrington Cove around the same time I did to build a life outside of the service. He now owns Catch & Release, a coastal bar and restaurant, and turned it into the hot spot in town for tourists and locals alike.

“I’m starving,” I reply, feeling my stomach growl as the smell of grease and food fills my nostrils.

“Well, Jimmy just started the burgers, so it’s going to be a minute.”

“No problem.” I push a hand through my hair that’s in bad need of a cut and intercept the glass of Coke Dallas pushes my way. “Thanks.”

“Of course. How’s everything going?”

“Fuck. That’s a loaded question, man,” I say, unsure if I want to get into this with Dallas right now. It’s not that I don’t trust him. Hell, he was one of my closest friends before we both left our hometown, and we picked up right where we left off when we returned.

In fact, we actually have a lot more in common now than we did back then. After twelve years in the service, he retired and bought this restaurant from the owner who was looking to sell at the time, much like I did with the garage. And for a while there, he was single too.

But then he met Willow Marshall, the owner of a multimillion-dollar advertising company who inherited a house in town and stole Dallas’s heart in the process. Now he’s happy, in love, and living a life that I never allowed myself to even think about because baseball was the only thing I cared about for the longest time.

And now I don’t even know what I want out of my life anymore.

Dallas smirks, crossing his arms over his chest. “You know, owning a bar has made me great at listening to other people’s problems. Comes with the territory. ”

Huffing out a laugh, I lean back in my seat. “I just feel stuck.”

“With…?”

“Life.”

He nods thoughtfully. “Sounds like you need to shake things up a bit.”

“What needs to be shaken up?” Parker, Dallas’s youngest brother, interrupts our conversation as he slides onto the stool next to me.

“Grady’s in a funk.” Dallas fills a glass of Coke for his brother and sets it in front of him.

“Yeah, I get that. I’m so fucking busy at the clinic right now, by the time I get home, I just zone out on the couch watching TV or scrolling on my phone before passing out.”

“And then get up and do it all over again,” Dallas says. Parker and I nod in agreement.

“Maybe we need to take a page out of Penn’s book and just take a fucking vacation,” I grumble as the bell on the kitchen counter rings, signaling that our burgers are done. Dallas grabs our plates from under the heat lamps and delivers them to us. The plate barely hits the bar top in front of me before I pick it up and take the biggest bite I can fit in my mouth.

“I still can’t believe he did that,” Parker mumbles around the fry he’s chewing. And honestly, I was shocked too. Penn is a fucking workaholic, and now that he’s starting his own contracting business, I don’t see that changing anytime soon. “Although the week I’m taking off between Christmas and New Year’s is all I can fucking think about, so I know I need the break. Dr. O’Neil was adamant about it too, so I really didn’t have a choice but to take it off,” Parker explains, referring to his boss. I’m pretty sure Dr. O’Neil has been the owner and main doctor of the veterinarian’s office since I was kid .

Dallas nods. “You should consider it, Grady. Maybe it will help turn that frown of yours upside down.” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, but I know he’s trying to give me real advice that I should probably take.

I scowl at him as the door opens and closes behind us. Parker and I both turn our heads to find Penn striding toward us, happier than I’ve seen him in a long time.

“Oh, look. It’s Mr. Well-Rested,” Parker teases his brother as Penn finds his stool and Dallas slides him his burger. Penn is the second oldest of the three Sheppard siblings and the one I’m closest with, probably because he’s close with my sister, Astrid. They have a younger sister, Hazel, who is also friends with Astrid, so our families have no shortage of ties to one another.

I moved back to Carrington Cove just before Brandon, my sister’s Marine husband, died in combat. Being there for her when her life was turned upside down made me beyond grateful to be back home. But it was Penn, Brandon’s best friend, who stepped up and helped her the most. He has an uncle-like bond with my niece and nephew, and I’m glad she has more than one man she can count on, especially since our dad was never around and her marriage was less than stable.

“Yeah, those bags under your eyes are a lot smaller. It must have been your mini-vacation.” I grin as I pop a fry in my mouth. Giving each other shit is what we do, but honestly, I’m grateful for these guys. Lord knows life would be a lot less interesting without them.

Penn cups his hand around his ear. “Do I detect an ounce of jealousy from both of you?” He nods his head. “Yup, I think I do.”

Dallas scoffs from behind the bar as he crosses his arms and his legs, leaning against the counter behind him. “I think I hear it too.”

Parker rolls his eyes and I go back to eating, mumbling around my food. “So, you had a good trip, then?” I ask .

“I did. The mountains are gorgeous in the winter—but fucking cold.”

“I can imagine. I’m just ready for the warmer weather in general, which reminds me…I got a rather interesting phone call yesterday,” I continue, thinking back to the call from earlier that’s still irritating me.

“From who?” Penn asks before taking a bite of his burger.

“The new baseball coach at Carrington Cove High School.” I wipe my mouth with a napkin. “Coach Larson retired, and this new guy thought that by reaching out to me directly, he’d get a different answer than the one I gave Larson.”

Parker shakes his head. “I don’t get it. Why don’t you want to help coach the team? You could help shape the next prodigy.”

Grumbling, I say, “I’m busy. I don’t have time for that.” That’s what I keep telling myself, but honestly, I don’t know if that’s what I want. Coaching seems like the logical way to keep baseball a part of my life, but dealing with teenage boys? Teaching the game instead of playing it? I just don’t know if I’m cut out for that shit. I was a hell of a player, but that doesn’t mean that I’d be a worthwhile coach. And the only kids I have experience with are my niece and nephew. Not sure teenage boys and I would jive, and I sure as fuck didn’t have an example of a father to pull experience from.

“Yes, you fucking do,” Dallas counters. “I mean, hello? You’re sitting in my restaurant on a Thursday taking an hour-long lunch. You’ll go back to your garage, finish out a few jobs, and then what?”

“Running a business takes a ton of time,” I fire back, wondering why he’s pushing this so hard. “You of all people should know that, Dallas.”

“I do, but I also know that we make time for things that are important to us, like having a life outside of work. You already have a guy that can run the place for you for a couple of hours, so why not take advantage of it?”

“Because I don’t want to fucking coach, all right?” I snap, my voice booming through the empty restaurant. Fury races through me because I thought of all people, he would understand. He saw me at my worst those first few months. He knows what losing the game did to me. If it weren’t for Astrid and the kids needing me, who knows how many bottles of whiskey I would have taken down since then?

Parker and Penn share a look, but Dallas continues to push. “Because it reminds you of what you lost, doesn’t it?”

I stand from my stool and toss my napkin on my plate, my meal only half-eaten. But I’m no longer hungry. “You know what? I don’t fucking need this. I’m going to go see my sister since she has her big event this weekend and she was gone this past weekend too.” I turn to walk away, but only move three steps before I freeze. Slowly, I turn back around and drill my line of sight into Penn.

Holy shit. It can’t be...

“Uh, Dallas? Didn’t you want to show me that…thing about the…stuff?” Parker stutters as Penn and I remain eye-locked, tension building.

“Sure. Yeah, we can do that.” Dallas heads to the back of the restaurant, Parker scurrying after him. And then it’s just me and Penn, the man that I’m fairly certain has some explaining to do.

“Is there something you need to tell me?” I ask, walking back over to the bar where Penn is still seated.

He doesn’t flinch before he replies, “Is there something you want to ask?”

“I don’t know.” I rub my jaw, dragging my nails through the thick scruff I’ve been growing lately because I’ve found myself too lazy to shave. “I just find it odd that you and my sister went away on the exact same weekend…”

“That’s because we were together, Grady,” he says, immediately laying the truth out there.

I glare at him harder. “ Together ?”

Penn stands now so we can see eye to eye, even though he has a few inches on me. Penn has a few inches on everybody at six-foot-five. “Yes. Together. I’m in love with her and I took her away to tell her that.”

My face softens almost instantly. “Holy shit.”

I’ve always wondered if there was something more between them, but I also figured that if Penn felt that way, he would have done something about it by now.

“I’m not going to lie to you. She and I have been torn up about it, but I’m not going to stop living my life because of what other people might think. I’ve been in love with her for a while.”

“So when did things change?”

“About a month ago.”

I run my hand through my hair and sigh. Fuck . If Penn is finally making moves in his life, I should be happy for him. Maybe he’s learned something I haven’t.

“Well, I know what I think about it doesn’t really matter because you’re grown-ass adults, but if there’s anyone I would pick for her, it would be you.” I reach out my hand to him, and just like that, everything is good again. That’s how men handle our issues—cut and dry. “But don’t fucking take her for granted, Penn,” I say, our hands still clasped. “She doesn’t need to go through that again.”

“Again?” His brow furrows.

“Yeah. I mean how Brandon never appreciated her. Their marriage was long over, but I’m sure you already know that.” The second the words leave my lips, his face shifts from elated to confused. “Wait…you didn’t know that?” My pulse starts hammering in my ears, my mind starts to race, and within seconds I realize I just revealed something that wasn’t mine to reveal.

“Uh, no. What do you mean?”

“Fuck.” I release Penn’s hand and blow out a breath. “Dude, they were going to get a divorce when he returned from his last deployment, but then…”

“Shit,” Penn mutters, turning away from me as he takes in this information.

“Look, I thought you would have known. Don’t be mad at her.”

“I’m not mad at her. I just...” He tilts his head at me. “I just…I need to fucking talk to her.”

My heart rate is borderline alarming, but my brain continues to function normally, which leads me to a very important conclusion. “Yeah, and I know that when you do, it’s going to be my neck on the chopping block, so why don’t you let me talk to her first?”

Astrid may be younger than me, but she can scare the shit out of me too. I need to make this right. I need to let her know that it’s my fault Penn knows about Brandon now.

Penn nods. “Yeah, probably a good idea.”

“And Brandon never said anything to you either?” I ask, hoping I didn’t really just create a clusterfuck of epic proportions.

“Never, Grady. In fact, he told me the opposite.” Penn grabs his Coke and drains the rest of the glass, shaking his head as he places it back on the bar.

I scoff. “Sounds about right. He always was about keeping up appearances.”

Penn shakes his head for an unsettling amount of time before finally speaking. “I…I need to get back to work. ”

Jesus, I do too, but who knows how long it’s going to take for me to talk my sister down off a ledge now . “Yeah, okay. I’ll text you when I’ve talked to her.”

My half-eaten burger now churning in my gut, I head for the door and hop in my truck to race across town to the bakery, hoping my sister doesn’t have any sharp objects around her when I tell her what I did.

At least your day isn’t boring now, is it, Grady?

Yeah, not sure this was the excitement I was looking for.

***

“Pour me another,” I say, gesturing toward the bartender at Ricky’s Bar. Located just on the edge of town, it draws some unfamiliar faces from surrounding towns. I needed a place to sulk that wasn’t Catch & Release, where I’m sure I’d suffer the inquisition from Dallas and anyone else there that knows me.

In small towns like Carrington Cove, there’s no privacy. Almost like it was being a famous baseball player. There was no privacy in my life then either, but fuck, do I still miss it. Being able to play made up for the other bullshit I had to deal with.

The whiskey goes down smooth, easing the tension in my neck and shoulders after a long fucking week. It’s just a few days before Christmas, and everyone I know is spending time doing things with their families. But I don’t have one of those and probably never will at this rate.

Astrid forgave me rather quickly for spilling her secret to Penn, and now that I see the two of them together, I’m glad he pulled his head out of his ass so he could be the type of man that my sister deserves. Now, if only I could get her to stop pushing me to date. I swear, people in love just want everyone else to have it too, but sometimes, being alone is just easier. It’s how I’ve operated for most of my adult life. I didn’t have time for relationships when I was playing, and the only women interested in me now are the ones who think I have something to offer them from my former life.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m doing very well for myself. I didn’t piss away the money I made in the major leagues—I invested and saved so I’d be set for life. The garage does well too, but that’s beside the point. Those women want Grady Reynolds, the star pitcher. Not Grady Reynolds, the grumpy, injured man who channels his inner Clint Eastwood most days.

Earlier, Astrid and Penn insisted I go with them to my niece Lilly’s dance recital, so of course I did. But after, they all wanted to go out for dinner and dessert, and the only thing I wanted was to be alone—again.

It’s been a long few days, finishing up projects around the garage and dodging phone calls from the high school coach. With the holidays approaching, I’m looking forward to a much-needed break. I’m headed down to Florida where the weather is warmer and I can go fishing, catch up with a buddy of mine from college, and escape small-town life for a while.

I need it. The boys were right, and I’m starting to feel suffocated by this life that I didn’t choose.

But part of you did, didn’t it, Grady?

The twinge of pain that shoots through my arm at any given moment decides then to remind me of my own selfish foolishness. I reach up and rub the spot, circling my arm around while trying not to hit the person sitting next to me at the bar, then take another drink of whiskey to help numb the pain.

It only does so much, but still better than being sober at the moment.

Tennessee Whiskey by Chris Stapleton plays from the jukebox in the corner as the sound of pool balls scattering across felt echoes in the bar. A group of men are gathered around the pool tables dressed in Carhartt jeans and work boots, sharing pitchers of beer and a few good laughs. Harold, Baron, and Thompson are playing darts in the corner. They usually play at Catch & Release, but Dallas has been closing the restaurant and bar early this week because of the holiday.

Several bikers are seated in another corner, black leather vests encasing their chests and red bandanas covering their heads. A group of women giggle at a table near the center of the room, one of them wearing an “I’m Divorced!” sash across her chest.

But as I survey the group of women more closely, a head of curly brown hair catches my attention. The woman those curls belong to stands from the table and heads toward the back corner where the bathrooms are located. I can’t see her face through her hair, but her curves give me more than enough to admire.

She’s wearing dark denim that is practically painted onto her wide hips and thick thighs. Her waist dips in just enough to hint at an hourglass figure under her red top, and she’s wearing wedges that make her appear taller than she is.

There’s something eerily familiar about her, and for a moment, I convince myself I’ve just had too much whiskey. I stare down into my glass, listen to the music playing throughout the bar, then swirl the amber liquid around, and toss back the rest of my drink before catching her walk back out from the hall.

And that’s when my stomach drops.

“Scottie? ”

Her eyes swivel around the room before landing on mine. And then her lips spread so wide as mine mimic the same movement. “Oh. My. God.”

“Holy shit.”

Biting her lip, she strides over to me as I take in the entirety of her. Damn, Scottie Daniels is all grown up, a fucking woman now—a woman I haven’t seen in almost seventeen years.

“What are the freaking chances?” she asks as she stands right before me, the shock on her face just as pronounced as my own.

I rise from my stool to pull her into a hug, inhaling her still familiar scent while wondering if this is all just a fucking dream. “Scottie Daniels,” I murmur in her ear as I inhale a little too deeply.

She clears her throat and then breaks our embrace. “Ha. I haven’t been Scottie Daniels in a long time, Grady Reynolds. But you?” She places her hands on the sides of my face. “Holy shit, it’s really you.”

My eyes can’t stop taking her in, from those familiar green eyes to the freckles on her nose that are barely concealed by her makeup, to those full lips painted a deep rose shade that brings out the color in her cheeks. Her hair is just as wild as I remember, yet somehow also tamer, and her smile just as addicting. Standing here in front of her now is like taking a ride in the DeLorean—it feels like I’m back in high school staring at the girl who always made me wonder, what if?

“So what do I call you then?”

“That might take a while to explain,” she says, rolling her eyes and peering over at the group of women she left earlier.

I follow her line of sight. “Do you need to get back to your friends?”

“Not really. Those are my mom’s friends. She dragged me along tonight and told me I needed to have some fun, so here I am.”

“The girl I knew used to say the same thing to me.”

The corner of her mouth lifts, but it’s a sad smile. “I haven’t been that girl in a long time, Grady.”

Studying her face, I say, “What happened, Scottie? One day we were texting, and the next, your number was disconnected.”

She sighs. “It’s ancient history.”

“Well, I’ve got all night to travel back in time with you.”

She shakes her head at me, clearly debating whether she should stay or just treat this as a coincidental passing. But then a familiar spark of determination lights up her eyes, and she says, “I’m gonna need a drink to get through that story, if that’s the case.”

I signal to the bartender. “Then let’s make that happen.”