Page 5 of Searching for Sunshine (Crestbrook Cove #1)

WYATT

“ A re you meeting us for dinner tonight?” Trent asks after we finish our last tour of the day.

The rides today went pretty well, but I got soaked earlier when I was cleaning the boat and I’m more than ready for the day to be over.

“Yeah, I guess so. I’ve got to go to the store, so the bar is probably my only choice if I want something other than chips or eggs.

But I need to run by the apartment first and change.

I’ll just walk over to The Sand Bar when I get done,” I tell him as we check the lines and rinse down the boats one more time before heading inside.

“That’s fine. I’ll tell Everett you’re coming, and we’ll see you then. Do you need anything else before I head out?” my brother asks, grabbing his wallet and keys from the desk drawer inside.

“Nope, I’ll just close out the computers and make sure everything’s ready for tomorrow. See you in a bit,” I tell him, leaning over the desk to grab the laptop we use to keep track of bookings.

He leaves me to it, and I spend a few minutes writing out the schedule and splitting the few charters we have booked between Trent and I.

Business is much slower than it used to be, and I try to ignore the surge of anxiety I feel from looking at the empty calendar for the next few weeks despite the fact that the summers have always been our busiest season.

Deciding that stressing over it isn’t going to change anything, I shut down the computer and make sure everything is turned off before walking out to my truck. After spending a few minutes digging for the towel I keep in the backseat, I throw it across the seat and head to my apartment.

It doesn’t take me long to grab a quick shower and change into dry clothes, and soon I’m relocking my apartment door and heading toward The Sand Bar.

The weather in May is my favorite—warm enough to enjoy the outdoors, but the heat isn’t quite unbearable yet.

My apartment is less than a half mile from my brother’s bar and I walk for a few minutes in silence, trying to come up with some ideas to help generate some business at work.

I’m lost in thought when I register a whining noise to my left on the quiet street.

I pause, looking around to see if I can figure out what I keep hearing, but nothing looks out of the ordinary.

After a moment, I realize the noise is coming from a car in front of the small law firm in town. I walk over, not sure what I’m expecting to find, but it certainly isn’t Stella Hale crying in the front seat.

Mrs. Betty and my grandmother, Meredith, were best friends for years, and each summer when Stella came to stay in town, we were thrown together constantly.

My grandmother stepped in to raise me and my brothers when my mom developed breast cancer and died just before my ninth birthday.

Since it was rare for my granny to have friends with children our age, I always looked forward to spending the day at the Hideaway with Stella.

We were great friends back then, but I haven’t seen Stella in over ten years, and I blink back the shock of seeing her after all this time. After a moment, I register the way she’s crying and immediately panic that she’s hurt.

“Stella? Are you okay? What’s going on?” I ask yanking her door open, alarmed by the amount of tears I see pouring down her face.

I don’t know why I always had such a soft spot for Stella, but I have for as long as I can remember.

The first time we met, she was near tears because a few of the hotel guest’s children had been mean to her and wouldn’t let her play with them.

After that moment, I always felt fiercely protective of her when she visited over the summer.

It’s weird that I’m finding her in such a similar state, but I feel that same urge to help her rise up inside me at the sight of her tears.

She looks up, and a look of terror passes over her face before she realizes who I am. “Wy- Wy- Wyatt?” she stutters, rushing to wipe the tears from her eyes.

“Yeah, Stella, please tell me why you’re so upset. And what are you doing in Crestbrook Cove? Did I miss that you’re living here now?” I ask, vaguely aware I’m asking too many questions, but I’m so caught off guard I can’t help myself.

“I—I—I came to meet with Mr. M—M—Marshall an-and he said that I—I need to t—take over the H-Hideaway and get mar—married,” she says between sobs. Her body shakes with the tears and she’s crying so hard she has to gasp for breath between each one.

“Stella, wait. I need you to calm down. Take a few deep breaths for me, okay?” I say, trying to keep my voice steady as she continues to cry.

“I just don—don’t know where I-I went wrong,” she cries and her breaths quicken again as she continues to get worked up.

I kneel on the ground so I’m at eye level with her and grab her hands. “Stella, look at me. We can figure out whatever it is that’s going on, but for right now I just need you to breathe.”

Her smaller hands shake in mine as she takes a few small breaths before muttering, “I feel—like I’m gonna—have a-a panic attack. Meds—in th-the back seat.”

I jump up and open the back door looking for the meds she was talking about before grabbing the small prescription bottle and holding it out for her to take.

“I—I’m sorry,” she pants, taking one of the small pills before leaning her head back against the headrest and closing her eyes. She continues to cry and take deep breaths as I kneel back on the ground and lean against her open door.

“You’re going to be okay, Stella,” I tell her, making sure to keep my voice gentle. “Just breathe and then you can try to tell me exactly what’s going on.”

We sit like that for a while in silence.

I’m vaguely aware of my phone vibrating repeatedly in my pocket, and I pull it out to make sure everything’s okay while I wait for her medicine to kick in.

I roll my eyes when I see that I have more than twenty missed texts and calls from my brothers, and I scowl as I turn my phone off until I have time to talk to them.

“Sorry, my damn family won’t leave me alone,” I murmur, tucking my phone back into my pocket.

Finally, she finally calms down enough to talk. “God, Wyatt. I’m so sorry. You must think I’m a complete disaster. You haven’t seen me in years and then you walk by me having a complete meltdown in my car. And I’m sure you have somewhere to be.”

She laughs weakly before reaching out to tousle my hair.

“God, some things never change. Wyatt Robinson—always here to save the day. But no, really, thank you. It’s been a long time since I felt the start of a panic attack that bad, and I really appreciate you talking me through it.

But unless you have an idea to help me find a husband in the next five days, I don’t think there’s anything you can do. ”

I lift my eyebrows, trying to figure out what she means. “Husband? I’m sorry, Stella, but I’m completely lost. What’s happened that made you so upset?”

“Well, I drove down today because Mr. Marshall called me last week and said he had something urgent to discuss with me in person about my grandmother’s will.

I thought it was going to be something minor like those books she loved to read or the creepy dolls she kept around to scare the extra bratty preteen guests back when we were growing up. ”

“Oh my god, how did I forget about those? Remember when she and my grandmother set one up in my room after my brothers and I told her we didn’t want to come to her weekly lunches?

I woke up and found it looking at me through the window in the middle of a thunderstorm, and every time the lightning flashed I was convinced there was someone looking in the window.

It's been fifteen years and I still have nightmares about that thing.”

Stella laughs at that before nodding. “Yeah, she did something similar to me when I refused to stop texting at the dinner table while I was in high school. It’s definitely one of those memories that sticks with you.”

“Right, but anyway, so you met with Bernard?” I ask, and she lifts her eyebrows at me in question.

“Who the hell is Bernard?” she asks and I fight the urge to laugh at her bewildered expression.

“Bernard Marshall—he’s the lawyer you said you met with. Sorry, in a town this small you’ve gotta remember that everyone is pretty much on a first name basis. He moved here a few years after you stopped visiting.”

“Oh, gotcha. But yeah, I met with him and he started going over the stipulations of the will. And apparently, Memaw left me the High Tide Hideaway.”

“Wait, Stella, that’s awesome. So you are moving back? I know you always loved that place when we were growing up.”

She winces at my words and sighs. “I wish it were that simple. My grandmother left some pretty specific requirements, and as much as I want to make it work, I don’t know how.”

“I’m sure you can figure it out. What exactly are the requirements?”

“Well, I’ve gotta move here immediately and live on the property for at least a year.

Which, now that I’ve calmed down, isn’t that big of a deal.

I lost my teaching job last week, so it’s kinda coming at a pretty good time,” she rambles before continuing, “but she also added a stipulation that I have to be married in order to take over. And apparently, they had a hard time getting a hold of me so the deadline is the end of this week.”

I wince, finally understanding why she’s so upset. “Stella, that’s wild. I’m sure you can find a way to fight it.”

“Maybe you’re right. But if I don’t get married by the end of the week, the Hideaway will be sold to a developer and they’ll tear it down.

So I’m out of time. And plus, Memaw left me a note explaining her reasoning, and a part of me will always feel like I’m going against her last wishes if I don’t do it her way, you know?

But really, none of that matters, because I’m definitely not married.

I’m going to have to let the place she and my pops worked their whole lives to build turn into rubble because I can’t find a husband,” she says, tears welling in her eyes.

I’m not usually an impulsive person, but as I watch her cry, my protective instincts rise and I don’t take the time to think. Before my mind can catch up, I decide to just go with it.

“Why don’t you just marry me?”