Page 11 of At First Flight (Coral Bell Cove #1)

“How so?” I ask, referencing all the armed forces men Ashvi has dated over the last few years. They go out with the tide as quickly as they come in. It was the unfortunate part about living so closely to some military bases.

“Well, for one, this guy didn’t even try to buy me a drink. He asked if I wanted to be on his team during the trivia game.”

My color-me-surprised look conjured up a bubble of laughter from my friend.

“I know, right?” she adds. “And the best part?”

“Is not that he’s in the military?” Ashvi had a very clear and distinct type.

“Oh, he is. Engineer. The best part is that his parents are professors at Williams and Mary.”

To most people, that knowledge wouldn’t mean anything, but growing up in this area, we know how quickly military families and singles move in and out.

“So that means his family is local. Well, local to the area.”

“Exactly,” she beams, and I can’t help but reciprocate her enthusiasm. Soon, she’s gripped my hands, and we’re spinning around my room as we screech loud enough to scare a neighborhood cat.

“Ashvi, I’m so excited for you. When are you seeing him again?”

“Tomorrow night. At first, I thought he was going to play that stupid game where they wait a week or longer to call, but I literally had a message from him right before you walked in the door.”

“Wow, I’m so excited for you. This one sounds promising.”

“I know, right? So now that I have shared something. It’s your turn.”

Ah, I knew it was too good to be true. Ashvi has always held on to the notion that one bit of personal news requires the other person to share something.

“Prescott is off the table.”

Nodding, she swipes her fingers through the ends of my ponytail, draping it over my shoulder. “At least until wine.”

“Um…” The blanks scroll repetitively like I’m a bill counter until nothing comes to mind.

“What about work? Any luck trying to find a research position here?”

I’d spent my life working up to getting my PhD in microbiology, researching new preventive treatments for food allergies after a close call with my first date and his undiagnosed allergy to strawberries—one of the crops harvested on my family farm.

While the close call could have been tragic, it still shaped who I am.

That incident set me off on the journey and I was not ready to jump off ship yet.

Unfortunately, our small town didn’t have opportunities for biological and immunological studies.

“I’ve been looking around all the research facilities and colleges in the state, but nothing with what I’d like to do specifically.”

“I hate Prescott,” Ashvi barks, and as I snarl at the mention of his name, she backtracks. “Sorry, your ex. I hate your ex and what he’s done.”

Prescott and his family were the major beneficiaries of the research facility where I worked.

The center was named after them, for goodness’ sake.

So when he paid attention to me and my work, I assumed it was because they wanted to know what their grant money was being spent on.

Little did I know it was all to groom and mold me the way they thought was best. And removing me from my position was the last phase in their arsenal.

“Well, I was naive enough to let him do it. But it’s okay.

I’ll figure things out. I can always reach out to Wellington University and my old advisor to see if they have any leads.

Mr. Shaver helped me land my internship.

” I’d been recruited by Stanford and Michigan to join their doctorate programs, but Wellington University had been the only to offer a full scholarship.

It helped that I adored the school and campus.

And their research facilities were top-notch.

“You can always work for your mom. I know it’s not your dream job, but it’s only until something better comes along.

” Just as I try to argue, Ashvi holds her perfect hand in the air.

“Look, I know this isn’t what you want to do for the rest of your life, but you’re so great with kids, and they adore you. ”

It was the same argument my siblings made time and time again.

Not that any of them were jumping at the chance to work with Mom and her local nanny service.

We were all good with kids, brought up that way, but Mom never pressured any of us to follow in her footsteps.

But unlike my siblings, I had the knack for the business that they didn’t.

Before we moved to Coral Bell Cove, it had been just me and my dad.

My mom ran off and never looked back. He’d tried to give me a Christmas to remember when I was four, and that was the same holiday we met Claire, my mom, for all intents and purposes.

She ran a nanny service and assigned herself to my dad when all her other employees were designated to other families.

It all worked out in the end, considering they fell head over heels in love during that two-week vacation, and we moved here permanently that same year.

“I know. I’m just not sure if I want to even open that Pandora’s box, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it. But the money never hurts, and with the summer tourist season about to start, maybe you’ll luck out and find yourself a hot single dad. Crazier things have happened.”

Laughing, I push us out of the spare bedroom I’m borrowing and back into the living room. “My mom already won the jackpot with that one. I don’t think it happening twice is all that probable.”

“I think you should talk to her about it, anyway. When you’re ready.”

Reaching into the cupboard, I pull out a glass and start filling it with tap water. “I’ve been here for like half an hour and I feel like you’re already trying to get rid of me.”

Hopping onto the counter, Ashvi swings her long legs from side to side. “I’m not. I just know my best friend and how she gets bored in five seconds flat if she doesn’t have a schedule or a job to keep her busy.”

Swallowing the last gulp of water, I set the glass in the sink and turn to face my friend. “I hate that you know me so well.”

“Duh, that’s what best friends are for. And to tell you that you can’t stay hidden away for long.”

I flinch at her insinuation of hiding away from my problems.

“And by hiding, I mean that your mom just texted me, and we’re to be at their house tonight for dinner.”

Ashvi holds out her phone so I can view the series of messages from my mother to my best friend.

“Who ratted me out?” I ask under my breath.

Ashvi chuckles as she hops down from the counter and slides her phone back into the side pocket of her athletic pants.

“No one, silly. But seeing a rental car in the area in non-peak season and in a non-tourist area is going to alert the neighborhood watch. You know how Mr. Werthers is.”

Mr. Werthers is a retired Naval airman who lost his wife thirty years ago. He takes it upon himself to supervise the ins and outs of all the people who reside in Coral Bell Cove. He also has a knack for spreading gossip in a way that could rival any middle schooler.

“Dang it. Did she at least say what we’re having?”

Whatever is on the family table for the night is always a hint as to how many people I can expect to see seated around the custom farmhouse table.

Beef stroganoff or pad Thai, I knew that it would just be Ashvi and me.

If any steak or potato is involved, then one of my brothers will be present.

Fish? And my sister Hadley would be making an appearance.

But Italian is the call for the entire Wright family.

“Homemade lasagna.”

Guess I’m getting an all-out welcome back.

As we pull up to the sprawling ranch-style home my parents bought when I was six, a strange mix of comfort and unease settles in my chest. The gravel crunches beneath the tires, familiar and jarring all at once.

The wraparound porch comes into view, weathered now by sun and seasons but no less welcoming.

I take a moment to really look at the farm, at the way the early light kisses the tops of the hay bales, how the fence posts lean just a little from years of stubborn horses and busier days.

The barn door is cracked open, and I know without looking that my dad has probably been working since sunrise, covered in dust and the kind of joy only this land can give him.

It’s his pride and joy, aside from us—his kids.

He’s never said it outright, but I’ve always felt it.

Even when I disappointed him, even when I chased dreams beyond the fence line, he never made me feel like I didn’t belong here.

I swallow hard.

Coming home was always supposed to be a soft place to land, but today, it feels like walking barefoot over gravel.

Too many memories in the soil. Too many people who’ll ask too many questions I’m not ready to answer.

But even through the dread curling at the edges of my stomach, I know this place, this home, is filled with nothing but love.

My mom will pretend not to cry when she sees me. She’ll bake something absurdly sweet and fuss over how pale I look. My little sister will ask if I’m staying for good, and my brothers will act like they’re too cool to care—until they throw an arm around me when no one’s watching.

And I’ll let them. I’ll let them love me. Because for all the ways I lost myself in the past few years, this family has always been my compass. Loud, nosy, relentless, and mine.

It’s not perfect. I’m not perfect. But I’m home. And maybe that’s exactly what I need.

Reaching out, I grip Ashvi’s hand where it rests on the gearshift as she parks the car.

“Thank you for being here.”

Growing up with my clan, she knows how overwhelming they can be, especially when one of us has gone off the deep end. And running away to Scotland for two weeks after my dress fitting definitely falls into that category.

Ashvi doesn’t say anything in reply. She simply squeezes my hand and lets me know she’s here for me. And also to stir up her own brand of mischief if the need presents itself.