Page 9 of Broken Hearts (Hibiscus Hearts #1)

I wish I had an answer to Nate’s question. It’s the same question I’ve been asking myself since I arrived on the island. It’s been playing out in my head over and over, bothering me in a way that brings tears to my eyes every time I think about it.

Was he embarrassed by me? Couldn’t bring himself to admit that I wanted nothing to do with him after a while? It’s my biggest regret in life now. I should have never stopped communicating with him. I can say all that now since he’s passed away, and it probably sounds disingenuous and shitty. That’s probably what his friends all think of me—some horrible person who has now decided to make amends.

I can sense the loneliness filling the open space, and a knot tightens in my stomach. I have to admit to Nate the reason my father, Mitch Harris, and I stopped speaking. Mitch to him is the perfect person, a father figure, a small business owner who puts the needs of this little Hawaiian village above his own, a giver.

But to me, Mitch was a man who never put me first. Even as I think it through, I know it’s not true. He tried, giving an effort most long-distance parents wouldn’t dare try.

I want to be able to tell Nate something true and pure, but I don’t have anything that will ease either of our suffering. I’m still angry that Mitch passed away without warning, without a chance for me to repair all that I broke. I had years, and now I have none.

The loneliness that blankets us is now competing with an overwhelming silence. You could hear a pin drop, the only sound is the soothing waves that have now become the backdrop for everything sad and broken in my world.

Nate breaks the silence, motioning to the stack of papers on the table inside with a lift of his chin. “Did you make a decision?”

It takes me a second to catch up, the conversation diverting from its original state, and that’s when I realize he’s asking me about selling The Pipe Dream.

“He isn’t a friend of my dad’s, is he?”

I counter, not answering his direct question.

Nate shakes his head, his full lips pursed, and he lets out a long, slow breath. “He’s been coming around here for a couple of years. Been trying to get Mitch to sell the land. It’s worth millions.”

Nate pauses, swallowing hard like he regrets telling me that part. “But you already know that,”

he adds in quickly.

“Yeah, I saw that in the proposal,”

I say, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Working at The Pipe Dream is Nate’s livelihood, and selling the land will take that from him. And as much as I’d love to think I could somehow run it from New York, I know that isn’t true.

This decision is something I have to make for myself, not basing it on what is best for the people who work here. I have a life in New York. I have to get back there for school.

“Why didn’t my dad want to sell it?”

I ask, and as the words leave my mouth, it sounds like the stupidest question I’ve ever asked. I know the answer, but I guess I want to hear what Nate has to say.

“The Pipe Dream meant everything to Mitch,”

Nate says, a harshness to his words that almost feels like a slap in the face. “But you wouldn’t…”

He cuts himself short, dragging a hand through his disheveled brown hair.

And he’s back to being a dick.

I knew it wouldn’t last. He was probably sent here by Alana to make amends, but he just can’t see me as anything other than a threat to his future.

Honestly, I am a threat to his future. I’m the one who will ultimately make the decision whether to sell The Pipe Dream or not.

That’s when my mom’s damn words come back to haunt me. Why does she always have to be so diplomatic? I’m too fucking young to make decisions like this. Up until last year, I still lived with my mother, and not that things are any better now. She pays my apartment rent.

I’m a damn mess.

I look at Nate, our eyes locking, and he holds my stare for a few seconds before I look away. I can’t tell him that I’m thinking about selling The Pipe Dream. I can’t bring myself to break his heart, even if he is a dick. He wants me to be everything he thinks I am. He wants me to sell it so he can forever hold a grudge, so he can hate me, and blame me, and hold Mitch above all else.

I look toward the ocean, the wind sending a breeze through the open doors behind us and into the house, and I watch the hibiscus flowers dance. Standing, I step over to the railing, taking in the view, and trying to clear my head.

“I haven’t made a decision,”

I now say, a peace offering of sorts, but I don’t look back at Nate. “When did my dad renovate?”

It’s a one-eighty again, the subject change allowing us to skate around what we both really want to say.

“Just last year,”

Nate replies, walking over to stand next to me. “You were here before?”

He’s a man of very few words, but we are complete strangers. Just because Alana welcomed me with open arms, acting like I was family, doesn’t mean Nate needs to respond in turn.

“The last time I was here, I was twelve. The apartment didn’t look like this. It was…”

I trail off, smiling a little when I think about how outdated it was. It was something out of a fifties Hawaiian movie. I felt like Elvis should have been singing “Blue Hawaii”, something I’m only familiar with because of my mom’s job. And Lilo and Stitch, if I’m being honest.

“Yeah, it was pretty quintessential Hawaiian before,”

Nate tells me, and when I look over at him, he’s smiling too. “I kinda liked it.”

“Me too.”

We fall silent again, a strange connection linking us, and I feel it move through me. Maybe this is what my mom was talking about. Connect with my dad’s friends and I’ll connect with him.

I do miss the familiarity of his old house, but the renovations are gorgeous. The idea of tearing this down and building a high-rise hotel stings a little.

The wood in this house has to be at least seventy years old, and that makes me wonder what The Pipe Dream was before it became The Pipe Dream. It’s been here longer than The Pipe Dream has been open.

“I miss the gold-flecked counters,”

Nate admits, a sweetness in his words, the memory catching him and making him more relatable.

“I miss the bowling alley carpet,”

I reply, letting out a small laugh. That’s exactly what it looked like to me back then. It was old and matted, a terrible mix of mustard yellow and burnt orange.

“You know he wanted to keep that when he did the renovations?”

Nate says, letting out a laugh to match mine. “Alana had to convince him that it just wouldn’t go with the aesthetic.”

I look over at him, furrowing my brow, and Nate lets out a hearty chuckle. “That was her word, not mine.”

“What was The Pipe Dream before my dad bought it?”

I ask, trying to engage with Nate, trying to appease my mom and do what she told me to. “Was it always a surf shop?”

“No, it was this old couple who made banana bread. It was a little bakery, but the couple got old, and the place went up for sale.”

“And that’s when my dad bought it?”

I ask, genuinely curious. When I talked to my dad, we never talked about his life or his business. It was always about me. I was a kid, and he would ask the questions and I would answer.

“Actually no. It sold to a developer, and it was to be the first luxury hotel on this side of the island,”

Nate says, wandering back to the chairs, he sits down. Following him, I do the same, and he keeps talking. “This was back like thirty or forty years ago or something, and from what Mitch told me, there was a ton of backlash. There still would be,”

Nate adds, and I don’t take it as a jab at me, even if that’s how he intends it.

“I get that,”

I reply, again trying to be more like my mother, diplomatic and not taking it too personally. “What happened then?”

“It was during a time when the economy was shitty, and tourism was low because it cost a lot to travel here, and the developers went into foreclosure before they could ever get started.”

“And that’s how my dad got the building?”

“That’s it. Simple story. The bank who took over the loan was a local bank, and they didn’t dare sell it to another developer, especially after what happened with the locals when that did happen. Mitch had saved a bunch of money from surf lessons and helping Tanner with boards that he was able to pay cash.”

Nate shrugs, but the story isn’t really that simple. It was built on hard work and a love for the area.

I hold that thought close, knowing my dad wouldn’t ever want all his hard work to disappear overnight, which is what will happen if I sell The Pipe Dream. The conditions aren’t the same as they were back then. Tourism is booming here, the economy following suit.

“Have you ever considered buying The Pipe Dream?”

I ask, knowing nothing about Nate’s financials, but his dedication to The Pipe Dream shows.

“Nah, I could never afford it. I live here rent-free because…”

And again, he stops without finishing his thought. I have no idea what he was about to say, but for once, it wasn’t a jab at me.

I tilt my head to the side, waiting for him to continue, but he doesn’t.

“You want to get dressed and come with me?”

Nate now says, and I swear we’re going to give each other whiplash with these conversation changes.

“Where?”

“I need to open The Pipe Dream. You can see some more of what we do. Might help you make your decision,”

Nate says, the animosity now gone.

“I know you work hard,”

I instantly say, not wanting Nate to think I’ve shown up here thinking he and Alana are useless and expendable.

“Yeah, I know, but I think it might help you to see that it isn’t just a surf shop. Your dad put a lot into it, a lot that people don’t even know about because he was…well, he was Mitch.”

Nate chuckles, and he doesn’t have to elaborate. Even if I didn’t have a close relationship with my father, this description fits him to a tee. It’s exactly how my mother would have described him too.

“It’s a lot of money,”

I counter, not really trying to defend myself, but trying to appeal to something Nate doesn’t have a lot of. Maybe he can understand that part. It’s hard to turn down money.

“Of course it is. I’ve been through it with Mitch for years, but you gotta…”

He stops again, and it feels like this is who we are now. Always dancing around the truth, afraid to piss the other one off. “Just come with me. Please.”

He’s really quite handsome with his muscled and tanned skin. He has these perfect features that make him look like a model for a surf magazine. His eyes seem to draw me in with their deep shade of brown flecked with gold, and I take in the way he watches me.

The way he says please finds its way into my bones, rooting itself in me, making me feel a need to follow him, to get to know my dad through him.

“Okay, give me a few minutes,”

I say, smiling at him, and when he returns the smile, my knees go weak, sending a flutter through my stomach. “Um,”

I squeak out, making it far too obvious that he’s caught me off guard with his kindness. “Um, so yeah, I will be…”

“I’ll meet you downstairs,”

Nate cuts in, saving me from the embarrassment of trying to gather my thoughts now that I can see Nate as more than just a dick who hates me.

As soon as he walks out the door, I cover my face with my hands, my cheeks growing hot, and I begin to laugh. My mom’s words playing out in my head.

Don’t fall for him and end up pregnant.

She’s way too good at this shit, but there’s not a chance I’m going to end up pregnant or fall for Nate. It’s hard not to be attracted to him, but it’s just that. He’s good-looking, serious eye candy, but he’s also a native, and I’m not leaving New York.

Again, I’m laughing, my thoughts a ridiculous mess. Only minutes ago, I was wondering how the hell I could get out of here and forget this ever happened, and now I’m telling myself not to fall for Nate.

I blame my mom.