Page 21 of Distant Shores (Stapled Magnolias #2)

IRELAND

M y duffel fell from my fingertips and landed with a thunk by my feet.

I was alone.

Blessedly alone in a room of my own.

I rotated slowly, and my eyes fell on my salvation.

I didn’t care that he was low to the ground to minimize my risk of falling.

I didn’t care that he was covered by the ugliest pastel quilt known to man.

For this summer, he was mine.

My bed.

I wasn’t sure how long I stared, caught in the indecision of showering or not before collapsing right on top of the bed.

Maybe I could cancel class just this once…

No.

He would have to wait. Once I got under his covers, I wasn’t confident I’d be able to make myself get out again.

I opened every drawer and door in the room as a distraction, but all the empty space gave me a sense of dread right alongside the muted anticipation.

I could fill these spaces.

Then I’d have to empty these spaces.

I scooped up my duffel and slung it into the closet a little more aggressively than I meant to. It hit the wall with a thud.

Oh shit.

I fell to my knees and inspected the wall with my phone flashlight.

My shoulders slumped in shame. There was a small dent. I unzipped the bag and pulled out my partner in crime.

Gil’s tool belt, the one he’d technically given me but would probably always feel like his, weighed down with his well-loved tools and my guilt.

I’d almost not taken it from my locker earlier, but it hadn’t felt right leaving it there.

I opened the bottom drawer of the bedside table and carefully placed the tools inside, then shut them away.

A couple of the drawers had stuck when I opened them, which was something he’d taught me to fix.

And I would.

But not today.

A soft rap on my door drew my attention.

“Ireland?” Adair’s deep voice rang out, and I closed my eyes against the sound of it. “You okay? Delly says it sounded like something might’ve fallen?”

I walked toward his voice and reached for the knob, but then his voice sounded again, and I froze, my hand hovering in the air.

There was a short, hushed conversation between the siblings on the other side of my door, and then Adair cleared his throat. “Anyway, I promise we won’t make a habit of knocking on your door. We’re headed out for now. We’ll, um, catch you later… Ireland.”

He tagged my name on the end as if he were still testing it out.

My hand dropped to my side, and I strained my ears, listening as they left.

Once I was sure they were gone, I eased out to double-check the lock on the front door.

The sudden silence in the house was deafening, but I felt some relief when I saw the lock on the knob and the deadbolt were secured.

At least that suggested they weren’t careless.

Enthusiastic, bright, and a bit rowdy, sure.

All three times I’d encountered Adair, he’d tried to help me in some way.

That wasn’t a fluke—it was a pattern. Something inherent to who he was.

With soft footsteps developed by years of dance, I padded back to my room and closed the door behind me.

I turned the lock on the knob once it closed to make sure it actually locked.

I was going to take advantage of the shower while they were gone so the paranoia of waiting for Adair to walk into the bathroom or acknowledge my existence in any way would be at a minimum.

My cosmetic bag with travel-sized bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and bodywash was stuffed to the side of my duffel. I eased it out with more care than necessary, along with another set of athletic clothes.

I grabbed the towels I needed from the closet, stripped out of my clothes, then eyed the many knobs in the shower before turning one at random.

A stream of water burst from the removable showerhead mounted at the midpoint of the wall—one of three in the overlarge cubicle—and I gasped as it hit the transparent glass on the other side like a bullet.

Jesus .

That had to be a liability.

My thoughts creeped toward inspecting the shower closer, looking for an issue with the connections like Gil?—

No.

I couldn’t go there right now. I needed to just get in, even if the pressure was intense enough to take out an eye. Once the water temperature was just on the correct side of scalding, I stepped inside, gasping again as the stream battered me.

The water was working out a particularly bad spot in the middle of my back as I thought of that short ride to the Locc in Adair’s Jeep.

The inside was clean, but not empty. There was a water canteen covered with an assortment of stickers, including one with an EMS symbol, in the cup holder.

A neat line of small rubber ducks in neon colors lined the dashboard, and I’d even seen a small box filled with more ducks on the floorboard in the back when I’d opened the back door to get out some of his things.

I didn’t have a strong impression of what exactly made a “Jeep” guy, but even so, Adair didn’t quite fit it, with his baggy clothes, unruly hair, and easy smile.

By the time I’d done an “everything” shower, I stepped out exhausted but more clearheaded than I’d been in weeks.

That death shower hadn’t healed all. I was just as wrung out, just as brittle, but at least I no longer smelled and was slightly less sore, which would be nice for class.

The room was filled with steam, and I stepped up to the vanity, staring at the fogged-over mirror. Reaching forward, I pressed my hand to it for several seconds, breathing in the thick air deeply.

I pulled my hand away and took a long look at what was left behind .

Proof that I’d been here. That this was real.

I’d made it.

After braiding back both sides of my hair as much as possible given its length, I changed into my fresh set of dance clothes—a cropped With a Flourish Dance School T-shirt and dark leggings. I wrapped my shower supplies in my towel so I could take them back to the bedroom in one trip.

For reasons I didn’t have the energy to examine, I didn’t want Adair seeing my things laid out when they got back.

Would he use this shower, or would he use his sister’s?

I guessed I’d find out.

I put the towel on top of the bedside table and left it there to deal with later, then eyed the bed longingly for three whole seconds before wrenching myself away.

“Same combo as last week. Spank, spank, stomp, stomp, shuffle into a cramp roll, repeat.”

I got a few nods from my more attentive students, but it was the giggles that caught my attention as I restarted “Fly Me to the Moon” by Frank Sinatra on the stereo.

Miss Trish and her two gal pals stumbled into one another as they worked through the combo on their own along to the music, and I eyed them suspiciously.

They’d been to happy hour before class, I guaranteed it.

It was Cinco de Mayo weekend, and I was regretting not canceling this class for even more reasons now.

Mrs. Hammond was with her husband in the back. Her hands were on the barre, and he was behind her, holding her hips steady as she worked through the sequence.

Displays of pure, unyielding love like what was going on between them were common at Live Oak, but I couldn’t handle them anymore.

I couldn’t look anymore.

I didn’t want the “before” picture burning into my memory when I knew that there would be an “after.”

That distance wasn’t necessarily safe, but it was more survivable when things inevitably took tragic turns.

Just as I considered cutting class short before Miss Trish inevitably took a tumble and we had to call emergency services, my phone blared from my bag.

I froze mid-combination, my tap shoe scuffing across the floor.

Only two numbers were set to bypass the “Do Not Disturb” mode on my phone.

The ringing stopped, then started again.

I snatched my phone from the top of the speaker and ran out the door, straight to Jillie’s desk, tap shoes scraping on the floor as I went.

Then I remembered she already went home and wanted to scream. Luckily, her replacement asked no questions when I explained that I had to go and agreed to make sure the Zinnia House residents in my class got to where they needed to be.

I changed shoes as quickly as possible, put the lanyard with my keycard around my neck, and then hurried out the back doors of the Locc.

I called Wilbur back as I crossed the courtyard on my board, heading straight for Zinnia House. Seeing that it was him calling and not the Zinnia House number made everything worse.

The call connected after just one ring .

“Ireland, hey.”

I nearly stumbled off my board at the sound of the deep, calm voice that was definitely not Wilbur Smith’s slow, measured drawl. “Adair?”

“Yeah, listen, Mr. Beck is having a bit of a hard time, and Pops gave me his phone and said I should call you.”

My heart dropped to my stomach. “Where are you?” I asked as I pushed my card against the sensor by the doors to Zinnia House.

“In the cafeteria,” he answered, but whatever he said next was drowned out by yelling.

“ No, you don’t understand!”

That was Dad.

“I’ll be right there,” I said, my voice surprisingly level, before I ended the call and stepped into the lobby. I scooped up my board, put it under my arm, and shoved my phone into the little pocket on the side of my dance pants.

The nurse at reception tried to greet me, but I breezed past her in something between a walk and a run until I made it to the cafeteria.

I heard him before I saw him.

“I need to go now !” Dad yelled.

I whipped my head toward the sound and slowed my steps, taking in the scene.

It was important that I thought before acting when Dad was in a fit. Sometimes my instincts only made it worse.

Nurse Kelly was there, trying to talk to Dad, but wasn’t having much luck.

I was not surprised. He was by far my least favorite of the care staff, but thankfully he wasn’t part of our team. He must be the other nurse on duty on this floor today .

Wilbur and Adair stood together a few feet away from Dad, and I didn’t see Adeline anywhere, which was a relief.

The fewer involved in this, the better.