This week, on the Romance Writers Weekly blog hop, we're asked to "Write a flash fiction with the words spring, boat, and shadow"
“Thanks for coming out with me today,” I told my cousin. The sharp glance he shot in my direction had me quickly amending, “For doing this, I mean. For me.” Because he wasn’t just accompanying me, or assisting me, he was doing all the heavy lifting in getting the boat ready for the season.
“’Course,” he answered gruffly, which caused me to wonder. Was he doing it for me? And, if so, was it out of pity? Or was he doing it for my mom, who couldn’t yet come to terms with my father’s death and wouldn’t listen to my suggestion that she sell the boat. Maybe he was doing it to honor the memory of my dad—that was a possibility. He always seemed to get along with my dad better than anyone else did. Certainly, better than I did. “I mean, someone had to, right?”
“I—” I started, then stopped again and nodded, blinking back the tears which suddenly threatened to overflow my eyes. Damned hormones making me weepy again. They’d have to settle down eventually, wouldn’t they? At least I hoped they would. “I know. I just—”
“And no one would’ve expected you to do it,” Rocky added, leveling a teasing smile at my new manicure. “Not without breaking those nails you’re rocking.”
Probably true, I thought as I stretched out my fingers to admire the long, blue marble, nails accented with rhinestones. “They’re nautical,” I said then blushed because, God, that sounded stupid. Even though—deep blue swirled with white, it was sort of true.
“Yep. That’s exactly what I thought when I first saw them,” Rocky said eyes twinkling as he went back to tinkering with the engine, inspecting the fuel hose…I think…before moving on to whatever was next on his list. It’s funny because I’d done this for years with him and my dad—every damn Spring—and I still hadn’t managed to wrap my mind around the steps or the order or…any of it, really.
Then Rocky’s words sank in. “Oh, bullshit. You did not.”
He laughed then, lips stretching into the DiLuca smile. “Okay, you got me. My first thought was, ‘who’d have guessed you’d’ve turned out to be such a girly girl?’ But eventually I’d have gotten there. Just look at what you’re wearing.”
Which was fair, I supposed, glancing down at my fit. The cuffed denim shorts. The off-the-shoulder, navy and white striped top. The indigo boat shoes, which had been blinged out with even more rhinestones than my nails. “My dad would have hated this, wouldn’t he?”
“No doubt,” Rocky scoffed. Then his expression shifted—as though he’d seen the shadow his words had cast over my mood. “It’s a very sexy look, G. He’d have hated that.”
“That’s not why,” I said blinking fast once again as I turned my gaze toward the water. I gestured at myself. “He wouldn’t have understood…any of this.”
“Not at first,” Rocky agreed. “But he’d have come around.”
“You don’t know that’s true.” I turned to glare at my cousin, hating the look on his face. It was pity, I was sure of it. “You can’t possibly know that would have been the case.”
“And you can’t know it’s not. So why borrow trouble? Why torture yourself with what might have been? He loved you, G. And I think what he would have wanted most for you was for you to be happy. Are you happy now?” he asked, his hand waving up and down as he mimicked the gesture I’d just used.
Not entirely, I thought, remembering all the things in my life that still weren’t quite the way I wanted. “I’m happier,” I replied, which was true. And as for the rest, I was getting there. I tossed my head and added, “I’m a work in progress.”
“Yeah. Aren’t we all?”
This time I didn’t call bullshit, even though I was pretty sure that’s what I was hearing. Rocky lived up to his name. He was as solid and unchanging as a slab of granite. Always had been. Or so it had always seemed to me—which might or might not be true. Either way, nothing would convince me that he wasn’t the son my father would have always liked to have had. Which I guess was for the best since I was never going to be that for him anyway.
But he was right about not borrowing trouble. So, I crossed my arms and changed the subject. “Are you almost done here? ’Cause it’s late and I’m getting hungry.” And I’d promised him lunch.
“Well, the sooner you stop distracting me, the sooner I’ll be finished,” he answered as he turned back toward the engine. “And, girl, I hope you brought the big checkbook, because I’m the one doing all the work here and I passed hungry a few hours ago.”
“Yeah, yeah, poor you,” I said, happy to be back on teasing terms, my heart warming at the easy way the endearment slipped off his tongue. Because if the Rock could accept me as I was, maybe everyone else whose opinion I cared about could too.
A girl could always hope.
A Games We Play Story
He knows what to do to save her business. She knows what he needs to fix his life!
Atlas Beach is experiencing a retail-renaissance—and Carly Meyer is determined to be part of it. But her sandwich shop-slash-food-truck, The Lunch Box, is struggling to stay afloat.
Luckily, help is on the way thanks to the Chamber of Commerce’s innovative mentoring program—partnering successful Atlas Beach business owners with some of the newer start-ups. Too bad the mentor assigned to her is the delectable—and highly annoying—Tino DiLuca.
Tino knows exactly what’s hurting Carly’s business and—exactly how to fix it. But his number one solution, changing the name of her signature sandwich, is the one thing she’s not prepared to do.
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