Page 52 of Tell It To The Waves

The shop is empty, which is perfect for me.

“What's going on, Bud?” How the hell do I open this conversation up?

Leaning next to the counter, I ask, “Are you here alone, Bud?”

His bushy eyebrows raise. “Yeah, why?”

Not having time to dance around, “I need to ask you something, and I’m just going off gut feeling here and from what I’ve seen these last few years, Bud, have you been approached to sell your shop?”

His shaky hand pushes his eyeglasses up to his forehead, squinting at me and saying, "Quite a few of us have been approached. And if I’m being honest, feeling like our arms are being twisted to give in and give up our businesses,” Bud shakes his head, “but this is nothing new, Bohdi. This has been going on for years.”

Confused, “What do you mean?”

“That family you’re marrying into isn’t good. Not one ounce of them holds good…and that goes for your future wife, too. Just be careful, Bohdi. You’re a good guy and I don’t want to see you hurt or turn out like them,” he tells me after putting some saltwater in a bag, tying it up, and handing it to me.

Holding my hand up, he pushes it out of the way. “Take them. They used to be your favorite.”

Saying our goodbyes, I walk back out to Main Street, holding a piece of saltwater taffy to my mouth before tossing it in. The taste brings me back. August always tasted like this when I kissed her, because it was her favorite, so it became mine. I savor the flavor, bringing me back to a time of complete happiness.

My mind replays Bud’s words, and the sweetness coating my mouth starts to taste like acid. Revelation tasting nothing like sweetness.

Deciding not to go straight to my bike, I turn down the next street, taking me to the small two-story bed-and-breakfast we have here. I need a room because once I get my hands on those papers, I’m gone. The wedding is off. I’ll find a way to pay them off. I can’t be involved with that family any longer, and unearthing who they truly are makes me sick.

Securing a room for two weeks, I don’t turn the way I came, but head the opposite, toward a house I’ve never stepped foot in.

The white picket fence surrounds the perfectly manicured grounds of Seaside Manor. The house is now inviting, not looking like ghosts roamed the halls. I remember Baylee alwaystalking about this house, and I smile knowing my brother gave it to her.

I twist the little knob, and the bell rings.

Standing, my heart pounds as I wait.

The enormous door opens, revealing my brother, standing in sleep pants and nothing else. He glowers at me. “What do you want?”

“Good morning to you too, brother. Can we talk?” I screw my forehead up when he walks out of the house, closing the door behind him, not inviting me in.

“Wow, cool,” I tell him as I turn around and face the road. That stung.

“What do you need, Bo?” He spits out the word "Bo" like it tastes disgusting.

I turn to face him. “Look, I just wanted to come and say I was sorry. I'm sorry for keeping my distance and for being a jerk. I’m sorry, man.”

I watch his face morph, and my ears fill with his laughter. “What changed all of a sudden, Bo? I’m sorry, but at this time in my life, I’m not ready to open my family up to you.”

When he says family, there is more innuendo than just him and Baylee. But I don’t ask.

Holding my hands up, I say, “You have my number whenever you want to talk.” Walking down the steps, I turn to face him. “I’ll be at the bed-and-breakfast for the next two weeks.”

As I get to my bike, my phone buzzes, alerting me to a text message.

Mom and I are heading to the city. I’ll be back tonight.

Molly messages me. I don’t want to reply but do.

Be safe, see you in a bit.

Short and sweet.

Before pocketing my phone, it’s barely twelve o'clock. Knowing they’ll be gone, I’m going to take my chance that he is too, getting copies of the contract and packing my things while she’s gone.