Page 8 of Distant Shores (Stapled Magnolias #2)

IRELAND

L ongboarding had always been both bliss and escape, especially with the wind blowing my hair back and German bands blasting in my eardrums loud enough to drown out my thoughts.

It just wasn’t working today.

“Let’s cut to the chase, Miss Sewell. Mr. Sewell’s current program is good, but not great. We’ve determined that he would benefit from a change in his living situation. In short, we believe a roommate would benefit Mr. Sewell greatly.”

Director Links, along with Dad’s entire care team, agreed.

A roommate.

Dad living with a stranger.

Change, danger … and more decisions that were solely on my shoulders.

Like the one I’d been running from when I grabbed my board and pushed off onto the road right outside Zinnia House.

I’d sold Dad’s beloved Vespa.

With my feet planted on my board and sweat that had nothing to do with the sun rolling down my neck, I flew down the gated streets of Live Oak, and since the music wasn’t helping me zone out, I locked in instead, working through the tangled web of emotions that only ever seemed to get messier.

The sad truth of it was that I only felt the ghost of guilt about selling the Vespa. It was only when the holographic words “Even Broken Crayons Color” became unreadable scraps as I scraped off the faded vinyl bumper sticker that I’d felt the twinge of regret.

But generally, I felt almost nothing. Not even relief at having enough money to continue paying for his care.

Desperation had just about hollowed me out.

The only times I felt normal were the quiet moments spent with Gil, but those had been infrequent.

I had no house-sits on the horizon, and I was getting paranoid enough about being kicked out of Zinnia House for couch crashing that I’d taken to staying up half the night in the dark of the dance studio or dozing in the Cadillac.

Apartment hunting had been a nightmare.

Even the least-expensive ones that were within longboarding distance of Live Oak were way out of budget. I’d considered keeping the Vespa for that reason alone, but Live Oak offered a discount if I paid for three months at a time, and I’d been just under the amount I needed for April to June.

Most nights I stayed up late reading every article and forum I could find on Alzheimer’s disease, so I at least had a new arsenal of techniques to try with Dad, and most of them have been effective.

And when Dad lay down for his daily nap, I was usually exhausted enough to fall asleep on the couch the minute my head hit the throw pillow.

Balancing my foot off the board, I pushed harder and harder until the wind whipped my hair wildly, the Gulf Coast air soothing as much of my stress as it could.

A big ask.

Gil’s wife, Arizona, was expecting me in just a few minutes, so this would be my last circuit around campus.

Keeping my balance centered as the houses and palm trees blurred on either side of me, I took my foot off the board again, thigh flexing as I prepared to drag my foot on the asphalt and slow down before the next turn.

But then I just… didn’t.

This felt too good to stop.

I put my foot back on the board and bent my knees, my blood pumping hot and fast as I continued to gain speed. Camellia Lane loomed ahead, and I pressed my weight into my toes and braced to make the turn onto it.

I laughed as I turned sharply, wildly, without busting my ass, but it choked off and turned into a gasp when I saw something— someone— directly in my path.

I was going to plow right into him.

Leaning my weight back onto my heels, I curved hard to the left, my heart falling from my throat to the pit of my stomach as I overcorrected.

I had just enough sense and time to dig my heels harder into the board so I could cut a path closer to the grassy median near the sidewalk.

The second I could see the individual blades of grass, I faced the inevitable and bailed.

Throwing myself forward, I flew through the air and sent a silent prayer to the wispy clouds above that everyone had cleaned up after their dogs this morning. Then I landed with a grunt and skidded across the grass on my hands and knees.

A harsh exhale escaped me, like a Mack truck releasing its brakes, as I came to a stop under the shade of a waving palm tree .

My head hung forward as adrenaline surged through me in a perfect, beautiful way. Instead of breathing, I soaked it in, smiling as my hair hung down, curtaining my face and hiding it from the world.

I’d forgotten how it was to feel like this. Alive. Failing in a way that only had the consequences of scrapes and bruises.

I pulled my headphones out of my ears and sat back on my heels, wiping my grassy hands on my jeans. My longboard was a ways down, stopped by a curb. A grunt and a muttered curse reminded me that I wasn’t alone, and my gaze snapped to my right, zeroing in on the guy I’d almost plowed into.

He’d apparently fallen when I had, despite my efforts to save him from it, and was doing his damnedest to get back up.

“Hold on!” he yelled, looking my way with wide, panicked eyes.

He got his uninjured foot under him—one of his ankles was wrapped in purple medical bandage—and by sheer determination got back to his feet.

Or… foot. He cursed under his breath as he took a hobbling step in my direction.

“ Lordy. Don’t move. You could have more injuries than you realize. ”

A disbelieving laugh escaped my lips. He was trying to come over and help me , which was ridiculous given his condition.

He let out a frustrated noise as he muttered to himself, squinting as he searched the road around him for something.

That’s when I saw his crutch, closer to me than him and definitely out of his reach. I was on my feet in a flash and across the road before I’d made the conscious decision to move, my heart still hammering as I scooped up his crutch .

The stranger’s wavy, dark-brown hair fell into his face, masking his features as he tried to take another step toward me. I hurried to him and jammed the crutch under his armpit. He grabbed the handle instinctively, bracing himself before he pushed his hair back and off his face.

A stubbled square jaw. Hazel eyes. Full lips pulled tight into a grimace.

With the help of the crutch, he drew himself up to his full height, and damn if he wasn’t imposing.

His baggy clothes—a faded blue flannel on top of a T-shirt—couldn’t quite hide his broad chest, and nothing could diminish his height.

I tipped my head back as I took him in. He was taller than my five foot five by nearly a foot.

“Lordy, ma’am, I am so sorry,” he said, his voice deep and somehow sweet too. His eyes met mine, but they seemed a little unfocused, like he wasn’t really seeing me. “I have my kit in my car. Please let me look you over.”

The clouds shifted, and the sun blazed onto us, sending a stream of light into his eyes.

He huffed in annoyance and ran a hand down his face, making his stubble rasp, then tugged his oversized shirt away from his body.

Before I could theorize on why he was dressed like that, my phone beeped from my back pocket, where it’d ridden out my crash without issue.

“Ma’am?” He took a short step closer to me, his big hand trying—and failing—to block out the sun.

“I didn’t see how or where you fell, but it seemed— ugh .

” He huffed again and used his crutch to hobble this way and that, away from the stream of sunlight, but it just kept coming at him no matter where he went.

“No worries,” I said, my voice a little rough as I tried to hold back my laugh. I definitely wasn’t going to distress this guy any further by mentioning my scraped knees. “ Especially since, you know… I’m the one who made you fall first. Sorry about that.”

I was just about to flee the scene and hurry to my longboard, but then he laughed.

The sound was so unexpectedly rich and husky, so free , his lips pulling into a huge smile, showing his teeth.

My gaze snagged on the sharp tip of one of his canines, and the sun at my back turned from warming to too hot, beads of sweat forming on my neck.

Adrenaline.

That’s what it was.

It was the adrenaline leaving my body.

My lips parted to say… something? I wasn’t sure what, but it was interrupted by a second warning beep from my phone.

I shrugged apologetically and mumbled something that hopefully also sounded apologetic and left the stranger with the deep laugh and baggy clothes behind and power walked to my board.

I literally did not have the time for more.

After righting my board with my foot, I kicked off down the street.

The urge to look back over my shoulder before I made the next turn prickled against the cooling sweat at my neck, but I ignored it.

There really wasn’t any time.

“ Ireland .” Arizona Thames sighed my name as she hugged me. “Thank you so much for meeting me.”

“Mrs. Thames,” I greeted, patting the older woman on the back.

“Just Ari will do, dear.”

She’d asked me to meet her in a green space at the heart of Live Oak that I’d never given a second thought to, but apparently Arizona—Ari— had given it quite a lot of thought.

“Accessible greenhouses,” she said, flicking her hand over the space. “Imagine it with me, dear. Low tables, wide aisles. I got the idea from my brother.”

“Oh?” I asked, still not quite sure what I was doing here.

She took off her cat-eye glasses and let them hang down her chest from their beaded necklace, her floral shawl blowing in the breeze as she turned toward me.