Wrecked Palace Page 3

  She held up both hands. “He helped drag my fiancé out of the ocean after someone tried to kill him. I’m team Griffin all the way.”

  Kenna scooped up a forkful of salad. “He gave Grant a black eye, so you know I’m a fan.” Her expression sobered a fraction. “Just be careful.”

  I growled in her direction. “He’s a good man.” I didn’t know with one hundred percent certainty, but everything pointed that way. He was polite if a little gruff. But that prickly exterior was understandable given everything he’d been through.

  Bell grinned. “And it doesn’t hurt that you want to climb him like a tree.”

  My face turned bright red. “Shhhh! He’ll hear you.” Yes, Griffin Lockwood was incredibly handsome. Gorgeous in a way that stole your breath and made you stupid. But he wasn’t for me. I simply felt a sort of kinship with the broody man. I knew what it was like to have the majority of our small island judge and whisper because of your familial history.

  Griffin seemed to take it all in stride, though. He stuck to himself and his big, dilapidated farmhouse on the far side of the island. He only ventured into town with a purpose, never to sit and eat at a café or grab a beer with other locals. He was in and out, leaving only questions and whispers in his wake.

  “Sandwich ready?”

  The rough voice made us all jump. I was sure my face was the shade of the tomato I was about to slice. “Um, I’m, uh, just deciding what I should put on it. We got some really nice Roma tomatoes in, and the spinach is super fresh. Maybe I’ll do a tomato mozzarella deal with some balsamic and prosciutto.” My mouth kept right on spewing nonsense while Kenna and Bell struggled to hold back their laughter.

  “It’ll be up in just a second,” I hurried to put an end to my runaway mouth disease. Right after I locked myself in the walk-in fridge and never came out.

  2

  Griffin

  I heaved another pile of who knew what out the window and into the dumpster below. When I first returned to the farmhouse, I’d been a hell of a lot more meticulous as I went through each room. Now, if it looked like garbage, out it went.

  The pile of detritus landed with a satisfying thunk. I turned back to survey the room, a muscle ticking in my jaw. The rose wallpaper my sister had loved so much was yellowed and peeling after years of age and the time it had been exposed to the elements. But that’s what happened when you left a home vacant for over a decade. Kids threw rocks at windows. People broke in and stole everything of value. They vandalized for the hell of it.

  My stomach turned as I took in the graffiti on the wall—ugly words cutting across the roses my little sister had considered her private garden. I’d been back on the island for a few years now, but it was too late. The damage had already been done.

  Sheriff Raines had been the one to finally get in touch to tell me that my family’s refuge was being destroyed. It was no easy task getting through to me. I’d made an art of running, and another of hiding. Raines had tracked me through lawyers and shell corporations until he finally found a cell phone number that only three people had.

  I’d seen his call as a sign: time to return home and restore the home I’d once seen as a palace and had ruled as a prince. We’d called it the farmhouse, our family getaway from the hectic craziness of our normal lives. It sat on ten acres of pristine land on the far end of the island, away from curious eyes.

  Beth and I had run wild in the forest and to the pond on the property. I remembered begging our parents to move to Anchor Island permanently, but they’d always forced us to return to our lives in Northern California. Ones that required uncomfortable school uniforms and society parties.

  And when I lost them, the people I’d loved most in this world, I’d let the farmhouse fall away. I’d been so young. But even after I’d come to my senses, I hadn’t been able to face this place or the memories it held. And in doing so, I’d let my favorite sanctuary almost be destroyed. It was a miracle the house hadn’t been burned to the ground.

  Sheriff Raines had met me here the first day I returned. I’d nearly lost my lunch in the bushes when I saw the place. He’d offered to recommend some quality contractors to help with the vast number of repairs, but I’d politely declined. Instead, I’d done something insane. I’d vowed to do all the work myself.

  It was part atonement, part grieving process. And I’d grown to love the work. A small shop space sat a few hundred feet from the main house and had gone mostly untouched. After a thorough cleaning, I’d made the space my home for the first year I was back on Anchor. It had taken longer than I’d hoped for the permits and to make sure there were no structural issues.

  Now, I was living in the main house. I’d gone room by room, starting with the master suite. I’d hauled garbage, repaired walls and windows, refinished floors, and painted so many things I’d lost track. But I now had the master, kitchen, office, and one other bedroom in livable condition.

  The kitchen was my greatest feat. I wasn’t sure why I’d poured so much time and money into a space I only used for coffee and frozen meals. But it looked like a dream. Maybe it was because my mother had loved the space so much. When we were in Marin, our family had a chef. But here on the island, my mother had always done the cooking. She loved seeing the smiles on Beth’s and my faces when she would call us in for a slice of berry cobbler or to sample a fresh batch of cookies.

  I gave my head a shake, trying to clear the onslaught of memories. I had known this room would be the hardest. I focused back on the trash strewn across the hardwood floors. Some of the boards would need to be replaced, having swollen from being exposed to the sea air for such a long time.

  As much as I tried to focus on the tasks at hand, I couldn’t stop the visions from swamping me—the brown-haired little girl sitting on this very floor, begging me to play Barbies with her. I squeezed my eyes closed, willing the images away. It was too much.

  I tore off my work gloves and strode out of the room. I needed to get out and away—anything to distract me from the ghosts that haunted me here.

  I climbed out of my truck in the parking lot of The General Store. Why was it that I always ended up here? There was just something about the brown-haired beauty who worked at the kitchen inside. Normally, people who shined with that life-is-beautiful kind of positivity made me want to punch something. But with Caelyn, I was fascinated.

  I started towards the store when a man called my name. I stiffened and turned, expecting to see a stranger, maybe one of the reporters still holding out hope that I’d share my story with the world. The set of my shoulders eased a bit when I saw that it was Ford Hardy, owner of The Catch Bar & Grill. I said nothing but waited for the man to make his approach. He wasn’t a stranger exactly, but I had no desire for idle chitchat.

  “I’ve been hoping to run into you,” he greeted.

  I stayed silent.

  Ford chuckled. “Not too talkative, are you?”

  “Not much to say, I guess.”

  Ford’s expression grew serious. “I just wanted to thank you for your help a few months back.”

  “I didn’t do anything anyone else wouldn’t do.” Ford had been attacked by someone sick in the head. He’d been jumped from behind and knocked unconscious. I’d just come along at the right time.

  “Either way, thank you.” He held out a hand, and I took it for a shake. “Come into the bar sometime. I’ll treat you to a beer and a meal. It’s the least I can do.”

  I fought the wince that wanted to surface. The last thing I wanted was to sit around at the island watering hole. People whispered, thinking they were being discreet when they were anything but. Even worse, they sometimes thought it was completely acceptable to approach and ask me a million intrusive questions. “I’ll try and come by.”

  Ford grinned. “I’m taking that as a fat chance in hell.”

  My lips twitched. “You’re not a stupid man.”

  “Thank God for that. Well, if I can ever do anything to repay you, just let me know. My br
other’s a contractor. We could give you a couple of days on that house of yours if you’d like.”

  My jaw tightened. “I’m good. But thanks for the offer.”

  Ford nodded and gave me a wave before heading back towards The Catch. “There’s no expiration date on that.”

  I wouldn’t take Ford up on his offer of help unless I got desperate. I needed to do this on my own. I started towards the store. Pulling the creaking screen door open, I walked inside. It was still a bit early, but when 4:00 a.m. was your usual wakeup call, 4:30 p.m. was just about perfect for dinner. Plus, I could avoid the after-work crowd.

  I made my way towards the kitchen at the far end of the grocery but stopped in my tracks when I heard Caelyn’s voice.

  “Is there any way you could give me more hours? Or more of the bookkeeping to do?”

  Mr. Walters, the owner of the store, chuckled. “You’re doing it all already, deary. I barely show up here anymore.”

  “Well, do you know of anyone else who might be looking for some help for things I could do from home?” she pressed.

  “Are the two jobs you have not enough? You’re gonna work yourself to the bone. And you need to be home for those kids.”

  “I know.” Caelyn’s voice seemed to deflate on the words. “But Mia got accepted into this gymnastics program, and it costs an arm and a leg.”

  Walters’ voice gentled. “I’d be happy to loan you the fees—”

  “No,” Caelyn cut Mr. Walters off. “You’ve done more than enough for us.”

  A foreign feeling invaded my chest. A twisting sensation that burned. I’d heard the talk around the island that Caelyn had taken in her three younger siblings after their parents had been involved in some sort of drug bust. I couldn’t imagine taking all that on when she must’ve been barely more than a child herself.

  I cleared my throat, stepping around the end of the aisle. Caelyn looked up, the frown marring her gorgeous face quickly turning into a bright smile. “Griffin. It’s good to see you. Have you finally given in to trying one of my salads?”

  I gave my head a shake. “I think I’ll stick with the sandwich.”

  Walters grinned. “I don’t know, Caelyn can make kale pretty tasty.”

  I didn’t try to fight the twisting of my face. “No, thank you.”

  Walters chuckled. “Maybe another day. All right, I’m off.” He turned to Caelyn. “You let me know if you change your mind.”

  Caelyn reached up on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to the old man’s cheek. “Thank you.”

  Walters headed out of the store, and just Caelyn and I were left. I slid onto a stool at the counter. It was rare that I waited here for my food, but I couldn’t seem to resist the temptation today. I had this undeniable urge to make sure she was okay.

  “So, what’ll it be? Some version of meat and cheese?”

  I almost chuckled. Almost. “Sounds good to me. But I know you’ll sneak some vegetables on there somehow.”

  “Gotta keep you from getting scurvy.”

  I almost choked. “I thought that was from not enough vitamin C. I drink my orange juice.”

  Caelyn shook her head and started pulling things out of a fridge below the counter. “There’s vitamin C in vegetables, too. And lots of other nutritious things you need.”

  “Good thing I come in here a few times a week then.”

  “Good thing.”

  An idea was forming in the back of my mind. One that just might be the answer to helping Caelyn out of her predicament and giving me some nice benefits, as well.

  The screen door banged open. “Cae Cae!” a young girl’s voice called out. Soon, there was a flash of movement past me.

  Caelyn stepped around the counter and lifted the little girl into her arms as she hurled herself at Caelyn. “How was your day?”

  “So good. I taught cartwheels at recess, and you left me my favorite cookie in my lunch.”

  Caelyn laughed. “Sounds like a good day to me. Where are the rest of the tiny terrors?”

  The little girl beamed up at Caelyn. “They’re coming, but they were being too slow, so I ran when I got to the parking lot.” Her gaze caught on me. “Whoa. Are you a giant?”

  I wanted to laugh but seeing the easy affection between the girl and Caelyn stole my ability to speak.

  “Mia, this is Mr. Griffin. Griffin, this is my little sister, Mia.”

  The girl looked so much like Beth had at that age, I struggled to find words. “It’s nice to meet you, Mia.” My voice came out rougher than before, and I tried to force my lips into a smile, but the action felt foreign.

  “Hey, sis,” a male voice called.

  I turned to see a boy who looked to be about sixteen or seventeen. As soon as he caught sight of me, wariness filled his features. He quickly crossed to his sisters, tugging another girl behind him. “Who’s this?”

  Caelyn pressed her lips together as if holding back a laugh. “This is Mr. Griffin. Griffin, this is Will and Ava, my other two siblings. I hope you don’t mind, but they usually hang with me for thirty minutes before Molly takes over. Kids, you can go hang out in the office while I get Mr. Griffin’s sandwich ready.”

  “I wanna stay with you and help,” Mia whined.

  “I’ll go into the office,” Ava offered. She had taken a step behind her brother as if hiding from me.

  “They can stay.” The words were out before I could stop them. Awkward and a little gruff, but Mia beamed.

  “See, Mr. Griffin wants me to help make his sandwich.”

  Caelyn shook her head. “Well, if that’s the case, we better wash our hands.”

  Ava headed for the back office while Will took a seat next to me at the counter, eyeing me carefully. Caelyn helped Mia up onto a little stool by the sink, and they washed their hands, Mia singing some sort of song that counted off the seconds.

  “All clean,” she called. “No germies can last to thirty.”

  I couldn’t hold in my chuckle this time. “I guess they can’t.”

  “I never thought I’d see the day,” Caelyn started, putting a hand over her heart. “I do believe you laughed, Griffin Lockwood. Who knew all it took was a seven-year-old singing about germs?”

  3

  Caelyn

  I thought Griffin’s lip twitches packed a punch, but they had nothing on his chuckle. It was a little bit gruff as if coated in sandpaper, just like his voice. The tone seemed to skitter across my skin and sent a pleasant shiver down my spine.

  “I like his laugh,” Mia chimed in.

  Redness crept up the back of Griffin’s neck, and I felt a bit guilty for putting him on the spot. Mia held out her arm to me. “Can you dry my rainbow bracelet? I don’t want it to stay wet and fall off.”

  Mia’s protectiveness over her bracelet sent a mixture of warmth and worry through me. I loved that she was so attached to what she had made a symbol of our family, but I feared the day she outgrew the thing. It was already looking a little tight. We’d just have to make some more soon. “Of course.” I carefully rubbed a towel over her wrist.

  She held it up for Griffin to see. “This is my rainbow. Me and Ava made them. Caelyn helped. And we all have one. Even Will.”

  Will stared Griffin down as if challenging him to find it odd for a sixteen-year-old boy to wear a rainbow friendship bracelet. Griffin nodded. “Uh, pretty.”

  Mia beamed. “Thank you.”

  “Come on, Mi,” I said, trying to shift her focus elsewhere. “Up on your stool. I need you to put the salami on the sandwich.”

  She climbed up onto the stool and eyed Griffin. “You like salami? It’s my favorite.”

  “It’s one of my favorites, too.”

  I’d never heard so many words out of Griffin on one visit before. I sent him a grateful smile for putting up with Mia’s chatter.

  “Do you like cheddar cheese or American?” she asked.

  “Cheddar.”

  “Me, too.” She beamed. “Cats or dogs?”

  “H
mmm…” Griffin took an exaggerated amount of time considering the options. “Dogs. Definitely dogs.”

  Mia shook her head. “I want a cat. I’ve been asking forever. She’d sleep with me, and I’d dress her up, and we’d be best friends.”

  A ghost of something that looked a lot like pain flashed across Griffin’s features. “You’ve got it all planned out.”

  Mia’s shoulders slumped. “Except we can’t have pets at our house. The mean landlord says.”

  “Mia,” I chided. “The landlord isn’t mean. She just doesn’t want animals on her property.” Pinpricks of guilt seemed to dig into my skin. I’d worked so hard to give these kids a normal childhood—one full of all the things I’d never had. But pets hadn’t been something I’d been able to make a reality. Ava always looked longingly at the dogs at adoption fairs. And Mia full-out begged for a cat regularly. But when I could barely keep my head above water on the bills we already had, saving for a house of our own wasn’t exactly on my radar. “Maybe one day.”

  “One day is so far away,” Mia whined.

  Griffin met her disappointed stare. “But think about how much you’ll appreciate it when it finally gets here.”

  “Kinda like how I only get pancakes on weekends?” Mia asked.

  Griffin grinned, and it was truly devastating. “Exactly like that.”

  Mia nodded and got to work laying pieces of salami on slices of rustic sourdough. Griffin’s gaze shifted to mine, and I mouthed, thank you. Who knew? Apparently, Griffin was the child-whisperer.

  “About ten more minutes on the steaks,” Crosby said as he picked up his beer from the picnic table and took a pull. The table was one Bell had helped me haul from a garage sale and refinish so it was no longer a splinter-filled mess but instead a smooth, warm-hued masterpiece.

  Kenna leaned back in a deck chair. “Good, because I’m starving.”