Page 1 of Right Side of Paradise

No Place Like Home

There was something about the unforgiving summer sun that would always sit right with me. After hours of breathing in recycled cabin air followed up by the chill of airport A/C, the sun shining on my skin felt like a heated caress the moment I stepped outside those doors.

In about two point five seconds, the North Carolina humidity would have my defined twist out puffed up like the clouds dotting the sky, but I’d enjoy being cute while it lasted. Phone out, I used my sunglasses as a makeshift headband to push back my sun-dyed strands and smiled into the camera.

I was already excited to look back on the picture in September and compare how much deeper my mahogany complexion was.

For the next ninety days, I planned to be outside, doing what hot girls did. And while it was a long-shot, I planned to find somebody fine to hump by the end of this summer. Me and the birth control implant in my arm weren’t looking for love, but I wanted to have a good time, dammit.

And a summer fling between two adults never hurt nobody.

Still smiling, I stepped onto the airport shuttle, secured my bag at the front and sat down before swiping over to my messaging app. One tap of my thumb and the family group chat was open.

Me:

Getting on the ferry in thirty. Anyone around to pick me up from the harbor in about an hour?

As expected, my grandmother responded first with a voice note.

“If your mother hadn’t taken my keys, you know I’d be there to pick you up in a heartbeat, sweet pea. But that’s neither here nor there.”

The huff at the end of her message was all drama and had me grinning even more when my mother simply reacted to her voice note with the rolling eyes emoji.

Mama:

I don’t get back to the island til Sunday. Call your brother. You know he probably has this chat muted

Before I could respond and tell her Rico hadn’t technically been my brother in over five years, another voice note from my grandmother rolled in.

“Pick me up a pack of Newport Shorts before you get on that boat. Your mama got everybody on this damn island scared to sell ‘em to me. Thanks, sweet pea.”

Mama:

You’re still in the group chat, mom

Another voice note chimed through right away and I was glad I’d connected my headphones before walking out of the airport.

“ I don’t give a damn. ”

For somebody who could barely see two feet in front of her, my grandma sure had plenty of time to sit there glued to her phone. She was probably on her porch, eyes squinted and nose smushed against the screen while she sent off her retorts.

“Don’t forget my cigarettes, sweet pea.”

Mama:

Do NOT buy her cigarettes

With a snort, I shook my head as the shuttle took off, exiting the airport drive to head toward Wrightsville.

The shuttle ride through Wilmington was uneventful and the closer we got to the water, the more giddiness swarmed my senses.

Christmas was the last time home had seen me and I couldn’t wait to reacquaint myself with everything I adored about the place I was from.

Onyx Cove was a sliver of an island off the coast of North Carolina. All I needed was an hour and a good set of flip flops and I could walk the length of it without breaking a sweat.

But we packed a lot into a small space, and the lack of cars congesting the streets made it seem bigger than it was.

The one-car per household limit had a lot to do with it.

That and the ordinances against building more homes than we could occupy year-round.

Short-term rental platforms were dead on arrival in Onyx Cove.

But if you wanted to visit overnight, there were two boutique bed and breakfast spots on opposite ends of the island. That was it.

If there was one word I had to use to describe my hometown, it was calm.

Calm streets.

Calm life.

Calm waters.

There were no strangers on an island as tiny and compact as the OC, and I hadn’t appreciated that until I moved away for college a decade ago.

Waiting until the shuttle idled, I went to the front and grabbed my duffle bag before walking down the steps.

Since I’d already bought my ferry ticket online, I bypassed the ticket window and headed onboard with ten minutes to spare.

A few minutes later, I abandoned the inside of the boat and went to stand on deck under the afternoon sun.

Being back on the water already made my breathing easier and my heart calmer.

Sweat slicked my skin in no time, and the scent of my sunscreen saturated the air around me. I didn’t even care. The smell was comforting at this point, and it meant I was home .

Half an hour after getting on the ferry, I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and hiked my duffel bag over my shoulder before following the slow trickle of people getting off.

It didn’t hit me until my feet were on solid ground that I’d forgotten to check in with Rico about that ride.

I could walk.

But the added weight of my bags would make it a whole ordeal.

Out of all the homes in our family, Rico’s was only a twenty-minute walk from the harbor.

So, after a call to my ex-stepbrother went unanswered, I blew out a resigned breath and set out for his house.

Maybe he wasn’t home, and I could kick off my trip at his place.

I loved my grandmother to death, but her beach bungalow left a lot to be desired. Mainly because she acted like she was allergic to air conditioning. And it should be a sin to have plastic-wrapped furniture when you lived at the beach.

Whatever.

If Rico wasn’t home, I’d just crash at his place until my mom got back in town in two days. I still had his key code saved somewhere in my phone?—

“I know my eyes are playing tricks on me,” a boisterous voice boomed. Loud enough for me to hear it through my headphones and snap my head in that direction. “Harlow Westbrook, is that you?”

A fond smile touched my lips as I came to a stop under a palm tree. “Hey, Mr. Tiny.”

Titan Alexander was far from tiny. With his broad frame, huge, calloused hands and rumbling voice, he was a mountain in human form. But my six-year-old tongue had tripped over his name so much that he got a new nickname out of it.

And now everybody in town was too attached to the nickname for him to change it.

“Girl, it’s been an eternity since I seen you.”

My shades slipped down my nose as his Cadillac rolled to a stop. He’d had the same car since I was a baby, and I was confident there was still less than fifty-thousand miles on it.

“Get in, let me get your bags.”

He popped his trunk open and was already out of the car, plucking the strap off my shoulder before I could object.

The car dipped when he got back in and cranked the A/C up.

“Where I’m taking you, little one?” he asked, the southern twang sticking to his words like honey.

Little one . Like I wasn’t knocking on thirty. A grin broke across my face as a warm feeling hummed in my chest.

“You can take me to Rico’s.”

His head bobbed. “It’s nice that y’all are still close after your folks split. That’s what family is.”

Walking the earth this long had taught me sometimes family was trifling.

I just so happened to get lucky. When my mother married Brock Donovan when I was seven years old, I got a brother in the deal.

Once he noticed how shy and anxious I was, Rico Donovan had turned into my very best friend and so had his two friends, Soul and Christian.

I wasn’t the overanxious little girl they took under their wing anymore, but those three would forever own the softest, biggest piece of my heart.

With the A/C blasting in my face, I enjoyed the smooth, albeit short, ride to Rico’s house.

“How’s that mean ol’ grandmother of yours?” The man beside me tried to ask casually. But he wasn’t fooling me. His crush on my grandmother was about as subtle as this big ass car.

And Edith Westbrook wasn’t thinking about him. “She’s doing ok. You know how she is,” I trailed.

He mumbled something under his breath, palming the steering wheel.

After that, he fell quiet, and I went back to listening to my podcast while my eyes traced the familiar sights passing us by.

Palm trees lined the narrow streets of Onyx Cove, backdropped by the kaleidoscope of colorful shops set off from the road.

Growing up, we used to call this stretch of road “Rainbow Row” because there was a storefront corresponding to every color of the rainbow.

The first time a tourist asked me about a restaurant on Herring Rd, I stared at them until they kissed their teeth and walked away.

They thought I was a gatekeeping local, whole time I didn’t know what they were talking about.

In no time, Mr. Tiny pulled in behind Rico’s neon green Jeep.

The white beach house was narrow up and down, and while it looked modest from the front, the house spread out over three stories and opened up to the beach in the backyard.

Rico spent three years building his oasis and told me I would always have a place to stay when I came home.

So, when Mr. Tiny helped me get my bags over his white pebble front yard and up the front steps, I hugged him and opened the notes app on my phone to find the key code for the front door.

As soon as the lock disengaged after typing in the last number, I turned to wave at my unintended chauffeur as he backed out of the driveway.

I nudged my suitcase over the threshold with my knee before kicking the door closed behind me. A long exhale deflated my chest when I pressed my back against it to take in the view in front of me.

Sunlight drenched the whole first floor.

Rico was a textile designer, and it showed in the vibrant patterns he had visible throughout his house.

From the front door, I saw straight through the house and to the beach in the backyard. The sand, the sky, and the lazy waves called to me like an estranged lover. They would be seeing a lot of me this summer.

Quirking my lips, I kicked off my sandals, left my bags where they were and went on the hunt for Rico.

When I found his office on the first floor empty, I took the tiled stairs two at a time to get to the third level. The primary suite was the only thing up here, so I headed to his slightly ajar double doors.

One hand was on the knob while the other tapped the side of my headphones to silence the podcast in my ears. Parting my lips, I prepared to greet my stepbrother, but my steps stuttered at the new soundtrack filling my ears.

Skin hitting skin.

Wet kisses.

And the all too familiar creak of a bed frame being pushed to its limit.

“Mm…fuck.” The moan was muffled and wanton.

“Oh…my god.” I hissed, mortified and flustered. There had to be a world record for how fast sweat dotted my forehead and dampened my palms.

I couldn’t see anything beyond the blob of tangled sheets, but I could hear plenty. And what I could hear had my heart in my throat and nerves fighting in the pit of my stomach.

Slamming my eyes shut, I blindly backed out of his room, muttering a string of curses the whole time.

I didn’t have shoes on, but I still managed to trip over my own feet.

I made so much racket the creaking sound stopped, and I popped open my eyes. Just to discover the tangle of sheets had stopped moving and Rico had peeked his head out to see what the fuss was about.

And I just stood there, looking back at him like a deer caught in headlights.

I didn’t expect the slow smile to spread on his lips or the throaty greeting he tossed my way. “Shit. Hey, sis.”

Fuck.

Everything beyond that moment was a blur. I fumbled with the door handle until I got my slippery palm to shut it. My soles barely hit the stairs on my way back down and I didn’t stop until I was in the kitchen, pulling a bottle of rum out of the freezer.

I needed a fucking shot.

Or three.

I knocked back one without wincing and glanced out of the open windows at the water kissing the shore outside.

“Jesus, Harlow. Five minutes back in town and you’re already in some shit.”

The ocean breeze cooled my skin as I poured another shot to soothe my rattled nerves.

It was fine .

We were grown .

Sex was natural .

Honestly, good for Rico for squeezing in some midday stress relief.

I just shouldn’t have barged in there like that?—

Fuck, I knew it was bad when even my thoughts were rambling.

Instead of pouring myself another bad decision, I capped the bottle and returned it to the freezer.

Eyeing the colorful backsplash, I shook my head with a dry laugh.

Well, at least now I know why he wasn’t picking up the phone.