Page 5 of Sea La Vie (The Outer Banks #1)

“I’m actually staying at our old place,” I say. “Do you remember it? Right on the edge of town?” I consider the possible consequences of leaving my keys in the car, and Lainey notices my hesitation.

“Your fancy car will be fine.” She flicks her gaze up and takes a deep breath, as if summoning the last bit of energy she can for me. “And yeah, I remember. I walk by it every day. I’m surprised it hasn’t fallen into the ocean by now.”

“That bad, huh?” I ask.

“It’s been empty, give or take a few fishermen, for the past decade. It definitely needs some help.”

“Great,” I mutter.

“Your grandpa still comes out every now and then to check on it,” she says. “I see the nursing home’s van pass by, and I just know he’s sweet-talked someone into bringing him out.”

“I know,” I say defensively. “Just because I haven’t had the time to come back doesn’t mean I don’t keep up with my grandpa.”

She stares at me for a beat, then turns to head back to her truck.

I sigh, and reluctantly put one foot into the car. Then, I whirl around. “Dave? The doctor and pastor? Why were you planning on taking me to his place?”

Lainey laughs, the sound like windchimes after a heavy storm. “There are two rentals in town. Dave’s and yours.”

Reluctantly, I slide behind the wheel and ease back onto the road.

Lainey’s headlights shine behind me, and true to her word, she follows me until I reach the only stoplight in town.

It’s situated at the far end of Water Street, which separates the bay from a row of shops, all neatly kept but seemingly unchanged since I was last here.

The barber shop still boasts a spinning barber pole, the red and blue faded from the sun. There’s a diner with “Shukin’ Huck’s” spread across the door and I can’t help but wonder if that’s Lainey’s brother.

Situated between a thrift store and bait shop, there’s a general store where rockers with chipped paint sit out front.

To the left of that, there’s a modest courthouse.

On the corner is a flower shop situated right next to Memos And Mugs, the coziest looking coffee shop/bookstore duo I’ve ever seen.

Across from that is Dr. Conard’s Family Dentistry, and finally, a hardware store.

The clock on my dash reads just past eight, but only a few people mill along the street, including a group of teenage boys on bicycles, fishing poles sticking out of their baskets.

This town truly is the definition of sleepy.

Gravel crunches as Lainey and I both pull up in front of Sid’s. She cranks down her window and I hear her say, “Keys on the seat, City Boy!” Before the squeak of her window starts again as she rolls it back up.

Reluctantly, I throw my keys on the seat and send a silent prayer up that my pride and joy doesn’t get stolen tonight. I bought it off the showroom floor after accepting the accounting position I have now.

The rusty hinges on Lainey’s truck squeak as I open the door, and she pats the space on the bench seat next to her. I didn’t know trucks this old still existed. The fluffy brown and white “attack” dog leaps onto my lap and peppers my face in sloppy, wet kisses.

“Get down, Midge,” Lainey scolds. “And act a little more like a guard dog, will you?” She turns down an old country song playing through the static then assesses me with her soft green eyes.

Uncomfortable, I peer at her out of the side of my eye. A smirk is resting lazily on her face and finally, I snap wiping at my nose furiously. “What? What are you looking at? Is there something on my face?”

Lainey chuckles. “I’m wondering how you grew up but still look like the same old Tate, you know?

” She has an accent that is southern but not “in your face” southern, if you know what I mean.

She leaves the “g” off a word here, sneaks in a long “i” there.

It’s cute. Or, it would be if she wasn’t annoying the living daylight out of me right now.

“I don’t look anything like I did as a kid,” I scoff. “No braces, a clean hair cut, biceps?” I can’t help myself by throwing that last part in there and giving her a little flex. I search her face for any kind of reaction and find…none.

“Do you have any bags you want to grab?” Lainey asks.

“Nope,” I respond. When I don’t elaborate, she throws the truck into gear and pulls back out onto the sandy road.

“You look the same too,” I finally say.

“Oh yeah?” she glances at me out of the side of her eye.

“Yeah. Still barefoot, looking like you haven’t touched a hairbrush in a year.”

She cocks an eyebrow and reaches a hand to her hair that’s actually got an effortlessly perfect look to it, but doesn’t say anything.

The silence should be uncomfortable given I’m riding in a near perfect stranger’s truck that came straight from the seventies, but it’s not.

I want to know more about Lainey, and I find myself trying to think of anything to get her to talk as we draw closer and closer to the old cottage.

“What are you doing back in town?” she finally asks.

I consider her question. “I came back to see about selling our old place,” I answer, deciding that’s an easier version of the day’s events. I’d rather not rehash my dumpster fire of a planned proposal so soon.

She pulls down our sandy drive, and I’m momentarily speechless. Our once pristine beach cottage looks rundown. The once-navy shutters are faded to a dull blue and hanging off their hinges. The white exterior has yellowed, and the screen door boasts a huge hole.

She puts the truck into park and taps her steering wheel. “Well, here we are,” she says.

“Here we are,” I repeat, drumming my fingers along my thigh.

“Are you going to get out of my truck?” she asks, pointedly.

My hand flies to the handle and my cheeks stain crimson. “Yeah, definitely. I was just…trying to figure out where the key was,” I lie, hopping out of her truck, the door protesting along its hinges with a squeak.

“Well, go on then,” she says, leaning her head out the window and throwing her hand in a shoo-ing motion. My feet are rooted to the ground and panic seeps into every corner of my body. I’ve seen the videos. I know what happens when you walk into dark, desolate houses by yourself.

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” she says and turns the truck's ignition off and gets out to stand next to me. “Come on. Nothing is going to happen to you.”

“I’m fine,” I tell her. Did I say all that out loud? “You can leave.”

“You’re shaking, Tate.” I look down at my hand, and sure enough, it’s a dead giveaway for the dread I feel inside. She reaches behind one of the faded shutters and produces a key.

“How did you know that was there?” I ask.

“I don’t know if you remember or not, but we used to be pretty great friends,” she says, sarcasm dripping off every word. She sticks the key in the lock and pushes against the door. It doesn’t budge.

“Lainey,” I start. “Can we talk about—”

“The door must be swollen from the humidity,” she interrupts me. “What are you afraid of anyway? We’re in Widow’s Wharf.” She nudges the door with her shoulder and it still doesn’t give.

“Say that again and listen to yourself really closely. Widow’s. Wharf. The perfect place for plenty of ghosts,” I say.

“Oh, please.” She rolls her eyes and kicks the bottom corner of the door.

It finally swings open and a musty smell hits me in the face.

I follow her through, and my hand grapples along the wall until I find the light switch.

Warm light fills the little living room, and I’m comforted and disgusted by the fact that it looks exactly like it did the day we left.

The pale green carpet covering the floor, the wood panels covering the walls, even the same gray couches that my sister Cara and I used as beds sit along the far wall. There’s even the ancient TV right in front of the couch, propped up on a stand that’s seen better days.

I walk down the hallway and into the kitchen where I flip on another light.

Although outdated, the oak cabinets look to be in decent shape, with the exception of one cupboard door sitting on the ground beside the sink with a hole in it.

I turn on the faucet and the pipes groan to life, producing rusty, red water that smells of sulfur.

My lip curls in disgust, and when I glance at Lainey, hers do the same.

She follows me wordlessly into the only bedroom, and we both gape up at the huge hole in the ceiling.

Pieces of plaster are laying on the bed, and the smell of more mold curls my nose.

“This must be the leak Mom warned me about,” I mutter.

“How long has it been since renters even stayed in this place?”

“I haven’t seen anyone here in a while,” Lainey says.

She walks into the attached bathroom and immediately runs right back out. “There’s something living in your bathtub,” she whispers and nods to the bathroom door.

I nod to the opposite door…to safety.

Lainey rolls her eyes and moves to go back in but I stop her. “No, no. I’ve got this,” I tell her and puff out my chest. Lainey snorts and I pretend like it doesn’t hurt my pride as I tiptoe to the door frame and peer in. “Hello?”

When I don’t hear anything, I shuffle over to the edge of the tub and peel back the curtain. Sure enough, a raccoon is clinging to the spigot, teeth bared. When it starts hissing, I yank the curtain shut.

“Actually, would you take me to Dave’s after all?” I ask, running out and slamming the door shut behind me.

Lainey giggles, then looks down. I grabbed her hand, holding it in a vice grip. I immediately let go and wipe my palm on the side of my pants.

“Sorry,” I stammer. “I just thought…that you uh, might want to hold my hand. In case you were scared or anything.” I clear my throat and look up at the boob light fixture that is suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

I also make a mental note that it needs to be changed, because boob lights are hideous.

“In case I was scared, huh?” The faintest smile appears on Lainey’s lips.

“Mhm.” I gulp then tear my eyes away from the light and stare at the door instead. “You’re welcome.”

As we pull up beside a little fishing shack, Lainey shifts the truck into park. “I’ll walk you in. Lucille can be a little…”

I stop dead in my tracks, one foot dangling out the door. “Lucille?” I ask.

“Mhm,” Lainey says. “She and Dave married a couple years ago, after his wife died. Weird, huh?”

“She beat me with a broom when I was a kid for throwing gum on the sidewalk. Do you think she’ll remember?”

Lainey shrugs and walks to the front door.

While the fishing shack is definitely old, someone’s put a lot of work into restoring it.

The outside boasts a new coat of navy blue paint, white shutters hang from the windows, and flowers spill out of window boxes and into meticulously kept flower beds.

I have a feeling the whole town looks like this in the daylight—old but well maintained.

Lainey rings a bell on the board-and-batten front desk, and a woman no bigger than my very first paycheck bustles from a back room. “Lainey!” She says. “It’s so good to see you.” She leans forward and steps on her tiptoes to give Lainey a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey, Lucille,” she says. She hitches a thumb my way and says, “This here is my…fri—, uh, Tate. He got a little lost, and his car is getting worked on, so he needs a place to stay.”

My heart twists as Lainey can’t get the word “friend” out.

Before I have too much time to dwell on that, Lucille looks me up and down, her sweet charm turning to immediate suspicion.

“I’ve heard about folks like you,” she mutters and crosses her arms. Clearly, she doesn’t remember me.

Whether that’s a good thing or not is to be determined.

“Folks…like me?” I ask.

She snorts and squints her eyes through her impressively thick glasses. If looks could kill, I’d be dead on the floor right now.

“You think you can charm a sweet innocent girl like Lainey, weasel your way into this rental, stab us in the middle of the night, dispose of our bodies in the bay, and steal all our money don’t you?”

I’m quickly realizing why this rental isn’t exactly busy. Lainey giggles and lays an arm on Lucille’s shoulder. “Lucille,” she says gently. “Have you been watching Dateline again when Dave leaves, like he told you not to?”

Lucille looks back to Lainey and a blush creeps up her neck and onto her cheeks. Busted. She turns to me and squints again. “You can stay but if I catch you smoking, I’m charging you triple and you lose your deposit.”

“Deal,” I say, but not before noticing the ashtray beside a well worn paper agenda. Hypocrite . I hand over my credit card and Lucille writes each number down and checks it twice before handing it back.

“Better not be stolen,” she warns, then tucks the pen into her gray bun.

“It’s not, Scout’s honor,” I promise.

Lainey shoves her hands into her pockets and rocks back and forth on her still bare feet.

“Well, I think you’re all set. I’m sure you saw the diner on the way in and the general store in case you need a toothbrush or anything.

” She glances at a clock on the wall. “Actually, it's too late for the toothbrush. They closed at seven. The diner should still be open though.” She walks to the door and I follow her, afraid to let her leave so easily.

“Wait,” I say. “I think I left my cigs in your truck.” I glance over my shoulder at Lucille, who’s staring daggers at me before following Lainey to her truck.

“You smoke now?” Lainey eyes me quizzically, one eyebrow raised.

“No,” I chuckle. “I just couldn’t help myself.”

I shove my hands into my pockets and before I can stop myself, I ask, “Do you think I’ll see you again?”

Lainey shrugs one shoulder and opens her truck door.

“Probably,” she says. “It is a pretty small town.” The engine roars to life, and she pulls back onto the sandy road leaving me standing in the dark, save for the light above Lucille’s door flickering around the beating moths.

I pull out my phone to call Jordan, quickly notice there’s no cell service, and return it to my pocket.

Probably better I didn’t talk to him anyway.

I feel like I’ve lived a whole life in the past twenty four hours.

And to my chagrin, all I can think about is that left dimple that finally poked through Lainey’s tough exterior, that beautiful head of messy hair, and how much I missed her.