Page 57 of Distant Shores (Stapled Magnolias #2)

ADAIR

Ireland touched the back of her hair, which was still sticking up every which way. “Yep.” She glanced my way, then back to Delly. “That’s what I was going for.”

My cheeks hurt from holding back a smile, and I went to grip the back of my neck, then froze.

Lordy. I should go wash up too . Without a word, I casually wheeled into the nearest bathroom.

I might also just need a minute, too, because… yeah.

Blowing out a breath, I raised my gaze to the mirror, surprised that I still looked like me even though I’d just made my girlfriend come. In public.

I smiled at my reflection, shaking my head as I washed up, then took a few extra moments to get my body to simmer down before going back out.

Following the chatter, I stopped at the doorway of Apartment 3A, and I could’ve kissed Cole on the mouth at what I saw .

Ireland was beaming as Cole took Beck’s portrait.

I guessed with the natural light from the windows, Cole only needed one extra off-camera light, so his setup was minimal.

Beck was posed with a paintbrush and easel, his carton of crayons peeking out from the breast pocket of one of his signature linen shirts.

He asked Ireland a question over his shoulder, and Cole clicked away, catching the moment she stood behind him and looked at his painting, and they shared a…

Hmm.

Ireland’s lips quirked as he cocked an eyebrow at her, gesturing with his paintbrush. Not quite a smile, but it was so them.

Pops came out of his room, using a cane as he walked toward me.

I’d forgotten about that.

He put a shaky arm around me, and I hugged him back, inhaling the smell of cedar and home.

“Hey, Bud.”

“Hey, Pops.”

After a closer, unsubtle—judging by the unimpressed look he gave me—assessment of him, my gaze went right back to the photo shoot.

To Ireland.

Beck was lounging on the couch now, and Pops went to join him.

Delly tugged on the metal basket on the front of my scooter and pulled me forward. “Sit there,” she commanded, pointing to the stool Beck had vacated. “And I’ll be right back.”

I did as she asked, getting close enough to the stool to swivel off it and sit down. Cole wheeled it to the side with a shitty smirk, but Delly cut off whatever dumb joke was percolating in his brain by thrusting a windbreaker toward me.

Even with my colorblindness, I could tell it was very neon.

Maybe most people would’ve balked at wearing it, but I just… I did not care. After weeks of being mostly useless, I wanted to help.

So, I shrugged it on and even let Delly fuss with my hair.

The minute she stepped away, I held out my hand to Ireland, frowning at the crinkling sound the windbreaker made.

Her eyes raked over me, and I held my breath as she finally fixed her gaze on my hand for a long, suspended moment.

And then she took it.

Angels sang, rights were wronged, and life made sense again as I slotted her against my body.

Delly rushed forward to position us, directing Ireland to perch on my lap. I met my sister’s eyes as she got us into position, and she gave me a pleased, knowing smile.

“Okay,” Cole said, crouching down with his camera. “Let’s crank through these bad boys. You about done, Apple Jack?”

Delly glared at him but then adjusted a few more things and stepped back. “Done.”

Ireland and I looked at each other, and she laughed silently at the cheesy couples’ pose she’d put us in, my hand on Ireland’s hip, her thumb hooked in the waistband of her shorts.

“Okay,” Cole directed, pointing to his left. “Both of you look toward Mr. Beck’s door. No— no smiling. Not yet. Look aloof. Mysterious, even.”

It was an effort, but I managed it. Inhaling deeply, I wrinkled my nose at that same chemically alcohol smell I noticed earlier in the salon but had been too distracted to think much about.

Cole clicked away, and I sniffed again, trying to place it.

“What does your hair smell like?”

She glanced back at me, her lips twitching. “A gallon of hair spray.”

“I can barely smell your lavender.”

“I guess we’ll need to fix that later,” she whispered.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Evil woman.”

She shrugged, and for the second time today, I gasped into an unexpected kiss.

It was over in a flash, but during that time, the room fell silent. Ireland ignored it, glancing at my lips with a satisfied smile before turning back to her position.

Which was maybe good because when I looked away from her, I found everyone’s eyes on us.

Pops had his arm around Delly, who was sitting between him and Beck on the couch. They were all smiling at me.

At us.

Beck’s attention fell away from us first, and he went back to painting away at the canvas in his lap.

Cole grinned as he scrolled through the images on the camera’s display. “Yeah… I think we’re good. Some real keepers in here.”

Ireland put her hand over mine that was still on her hip. “Want to get one with Pops and Delly before we move onto the rest of the floor?”

And if I weren’t already pathetic for her, that would’ve done it.

Slipping off my lap, she relayed the idea to Delly and Cole, who switched gears quickly. Ireland took the windbreaker off me with a little wink, and I just smiled back stupidly.

My good mood stayed with me through the shots as I laughed with Pops and Delly so much that my cheeks hurt, but my usefulness ran out once we were done.

Ari came in and said Director Links didn’t want the residents to feel crowded in their apartments, so the rest of the Zinnia House photoshoots were done with just Cole and two helpers—either Delly and Ireland or Ari and Liem—so everyone but Cole could take breaks.

It was for the best. Cole and idle hands didn’t mix.

Pops was leaning against his cane, looking over the new photos Cole and I had hung for him in the hallway.

Cole had brought some from Georgia for me, and now some photos from the cabin were intermingled with Beck’s.

There was a photo of Ireland as a kid in a tutu beside one of Delly in braces, holding up a fish she caught in the creek.

Above those was a colorful frame housing a newspaper cutout about one of Beck’s art exhibits beside a faded photo of Pops and Grams smiling in their Sunday best.

I stopped beside Pops to see which one he was looking at.

He was smiling at the photo of him and Grams on their wedding day in a tiny chapel in the mountains, Pops with the same mustache, just darker, and Grams smiling serenely beside him.

He glanced my way, then gestured toward the door in a silent invitation.

I found Ireland’s gaze and cocked my head toward the door. She tilted her chin up and bent her head toward the window with an expression that I took to mean “See you at home.”

I nodded and trailed my eyes over her one more time .

I’d be asking Cole to send the photos of her in this outfit to me the moment we were all back at the house.

With Pops using his cane and me on my scooter, we moseyed at a snail’s pace to the Zinnia House exit and then to the courtyard between it and the Locc.

Pops sighed in relief when we sat on the bench in front of the trickling fountain. The shade from the massive live oak tree made it cool enough to tolerate being outside, and for a long time, we just sat in each other’s quiet company.

When I stretched my arms across the back of the bench, Pops glanced over at me, blinking slowly as if he’d just remembered I was here.

“When I met your Grams,” he said, his words quiet and measured, “I saw the mountains.” His mustache moved as he smiled tightly, the tremors in his clasped hands resting on his lap faint.

“I’d lived by them all my life, but for the first time, I really saw them.

That endless blue horizon…. It meant something different to me then.

I saw our future there. And those mountains saw all of it.

Saw me on top of its peaks and struggling in its valleys. ”

He looked at me, his gaze clear and intent.

“When she agreed to marry me, and then I lost my mother. When we built the cabin with all those rooms, then found out we couldn’t have children.

And then, there was the highest peak of all…

.” He swallowed thickly. “When a tough kid and a sick baby stumbled through the woods and changed us from just Nell and Wilbur to Grams and Pops.”

I tried to catch his eye, but he looked toward the cascading water, his brows furrowed.

My heart constricted painfully. “Pops….”

“Do you see the mountains with her? With Beck’s girl?”

The fountain bubbled, an air pocket releasing, so the stream of water splashed harder, sending droplets flying out of the reservoir. I leaned forward, bracing my arms on my thighs, and watched each one, thinking even though I knew the answer.

Ireland’s cautious smile when I bandaged her knee.

The grief in her eyes when we met again, and those days she hid herself away.

When she finally stopped hiding, and her smile came easier.

My surgery, the notes, the easy friendship she and Delly formed.

Pops and Beck, forever intertwining our lives. And what that meant.

I saw it all with her. The pains we’d already shared, and the ones that would come.

“I see them.”

“Are you gonna marry that girl, Addy?”

I glanced down at my walking boot, wondering what he would think if I told him she was the reason I finally got my ankle fixed.

The next time I got on my knees for her, I was going to do it without worrying about my ankle giving out.

“Yeah, Pops. That’s the plan.”

If she felt the same. Even a fraction of the same.

He was silent for several long seconds before he smiled.

“Good, Addy. That’s real good.”