The Coast is Clear (Breakaway Shores #1)

Izzy

Coming Back

Sometimes, I could forget that my husband died. He still felt alive in the little things. The quiet of the morning when I laid awake, and the boys were still sleeping. Sometimes, I could still hear his steps coming down the stairs or see him in the dimple on our sons’ cheeks. Or as I pulled into our favorite coast town. He always drove, tapping the steering wheel as he sang. That’s when I could still feel him.

“Mom, are we almost there yet?” Christian groaned in the backseat, tired after the hour-and-a-half drive from the airport. It had been a long day of travel, and the sun was sinking into the sky.

I nodded, the road ahead twisting to the right as we made it onto Highway 101. “We are here. Just a few more minutes.” I glanced in the rearview mirror at Kingston’s sleeping face in his mirror. It didn’t take him long to fall asleep once we got the rental van. Breakaway looked the same, with bright-colored buildings lining one main road. The town lived and died by the tourist season, but the residents didn’t care for the tourists. Tourists didn’t love the town like the people who lived here all year round.

My brother, Luke, was one of those tourist-hating residents, but he was also a realtor. He needed those tourists, especially the ones who bought their vacation homes from him. Luke loved the coast, always had, and loved to surf when he could, so he was a lifer. We would be lifers, too, once we officially moved to the coast.

I’d always loved visiting, coming here multiple times a year when I was a kid, but it would be different to live here. To be able to sit by the waves every single day. I hoped the boys would love it. It was different from being in the mountains of Colorado.

The town was small, and this two-lane road was always busy. I gave Christian my phone, with his favorite bubble-popping video game, to tide him over. The car in front of me slowed, their brake lights illuminating as they turned into the little red drive-in. A big, black truck honked from behind me, and Kingston, my almost two-year-old, stirred in his seat. Frustration building in my chest, I whipped my head around but couldn’t see the driver. I’d bet it was a city slicker, someone annoyed by the slow speed of the coast. The road turned into a one-way, and the big truck zoomed past me. “Mommy, that truck is loud.”

“Yes, it is, buddy.”

“Are we there yet?” Christian grumbled.

I shook my head, “Almost. Almost there.” He flopped his arms and legs out around him, and I chuckled. Christian was a resilient and funny kid, but he wasn’t immune to being just a kid. “A few minutes, babe.” Thankfully, Kingston was still sleeping, and I gripped the steering wheel harder, ready to leave the car. I knew where I was going, even though I hadn’t been to Breakaway Shores since before Jack died. Luke had found me a rental house for the summer right near his home so that it would be within walking distance.

We turned off the main road, and I could see the beach entrance at the end of the long road. Like Luke said, our little rental came into view with the bright blue door. A black SUV filled the driveway with Luke leaning against the outside, phone in hand. His head popped up, and he held his arms out, a smile widening. Immediately, I felt lighter, easier than I had in months of being far away from family.

I pulled the minivan beside him in the driveway as Christian wiggled, “It’s Uncle Luke!”

Twisting around in my seat, I put a finger to my lips, “Quiet, buddy. Let me get you out.” But before I could press the button, Luke moved around the van and pulled the handle. The door slid open on its own.

Christian bounced in his car seat, “Uncle Luke!” He was old enough to remember him as family, but the weekly FaceTime calls with Luke helped their relationship grow. Our time was up in Colorado, especially after Jack’s parents moved away. We were on our own. So, after the school year ended, Christian graduated from kindergarten, and we left on the first flight. Our truck full of boxes and furniture was coming.

Luke unclipped Christian’s buckles and pulled him into a hug. “I’m so glad you made it. How was the drive?”

“Long!”

“Were you good for your mom?” Luke asked, shooting me a glance.

Christian nodded excitedly. “Can we go inside?”

Luke met my eyes again. “I’ll come back and help you unload.”

I waited for them to head toward the house before leaving the driver’s seat. My legs were stiff as I stood, and I closed the door softly. Kingston didn’t move as I undid his harness straps and held him on my shoulder. His legs were so long. When did they get so long?

The outside of the house was immaculate. The forest green paint on the shingles looked fresh. Maybe it was. The white trim was clean, and the grass out front was cut at sharp angles. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Luke managed rental homes for his clients. He told me he’d only let us stay in his favorite one.

Jack would have loved this house. The front porch was large and wrapped around the other side of the house. A swinging bench sat to the right of the door, and it looked cozy with all the pillows. At home in Colorado, Jack loved sitting on the front porch swing with a hot chocolate and watching videos on his phone. I could almost see him sitting on the swing as I ascended the stairs, holding the son he never got to meet.

The front door stood open, and I pushed it closed with my shoulder. I heard Christian’s excited voice from upstairs and moved slowly. I didn’t want to wake up Kingston if I could help it. The hallway was short, with two doors on each side. The first one on the left stood open, and Luke sat on the ground, showing Christian a box of overturned dinosaur toys in the middle of a very kid-centered bedroom. A couple of shopping bags were in the corner, and my heart warmed at the thought of Luke shopping just for the boys.

I moved to the door on the left without turning on the light and placed Kingston on the bed. He twisted around, laying on his belly, but he didn’t wake up. I moved the many pillows around him, creating a barrier if he decided to roll over and closed the door silently.

We’d made it. We were in Oregon, the beach a couple of miles west, and we were around family again. Something settled in my chest. A tiny piece of me felt like it had just fit back into place. I left Luke and Christian playing on the floor and returned to the car. We only had a few bags, and I didn't want to add more bags because it was hard enough to wrangle two kids through the airport with two car seats. Our stuff was coming, and we’d buy it new if I missed something.

The front door was still open, and as I stepped out onto the porch, Luke called from behind me, “I said I’d get the stuff.”

He rushed down the stairs behind me and moved past me. “It’s okay. We just have a few bags.”

“You go back inside. I’ve got this,” Luke smiled, stepping off the porch backward. I knew it shouldn’t, but it felt strange to accept help, even after so long. I’d been alone for the last year or so and knew I needed the help. Help was okay. It didn’t mean that I couldn’t do it. I was trying to work on it and wrap my head around that notion. Luke didn’t struggle with the weighty suitcases as he brought them inside. I closed the door behind him. “I’ll take these upstairs for you.”

“Kingston is asleep in the second room. I closed the door, so maybe just leave them in the hall.”

“You got it,” He took each one up separately and, on his way back down, said, “Christian is playing. I got some toys for them. I hope that’s okay.” I smiled, fatigue starting to weigh on my shoulders, “I’ve got a few houses for us to look at tomorrow.”

Yes, buying a house. A new house. A house that Jack would never set foot inside, never sleep next to me in. “I hope you’ve lined up some good ones,” I joked and headed toward the kitchen, suddenly starving.

“The first one is at nine tomorrow.” Luke followed behind me. “I wish you guys would have stayed with me. I have room.”

“Luke, I could not do that to you,” The kitchen light was on, and sitting on the counter were three plates with food. “The boys are fun, but they’d kill your game when you brought home dates.”

“I got you some groceries and made you some food. Didn’t want you to have to worry about that.” Luke touched my shoulder, and I tried to bite back emotion. “Do you want to eat on the back patio? Take a little break?”

“That sounds great.”

“You head out there, take a load off. And I think the boys would help my game,” Luke chuckled, putting one of the plates in the microwave over the stove. Luke was a wonderful guy, honestly. Such a great brother. But he couldn’t make a relationship last to save his life. I sometimes thought he preferred it that way.

The backyard was cozy, and the yard was not too large, but it was enough for the boys to run around. The patio was small but held a circular table with padded chairs around it. I sat down and placed my phone on the table, the picture on my screen coming to life. The boys held their tiny pillows with Jack’s face on them. It made my heart ache and swell at the same time. Luke wordlessly brought me my plate of food. He set it down in front of me and squeezed my shoulder before going back inside.

The trees whistled around me as a soft wind blew around. Salt swam in the air, with a new beginning ahead of me.