Page 21 of Shades of You (Calypso Key #4)

Chapter Twenty-One

Hunter

I’m a bastard.

The morning sun was still gentle as I pounded the pavement, but the relatively cool breeze couldn’t blow away the thought repeating through my head. Or its truth. The rhythmic thud of my running shoes against the concrete sidewalk was a steady drumbeat in the quiet residential district of Dove Key. I’d already put in two hours at the gym—lifting until my muscles screamed—but this run weighed me down more than any dumbbell ever could. No matter how hard I pushed my pace, I couldn’t outrun the fact that Brenna deserved so much more than I could give her.

Guilt gnawed at me with hungry, sharp teeth. Even while I was entering Brenna’s building, I knew it was wrong. And when I saw her startled face, it hit home even more. Until the thrill of what I’d done eclipsed any rational thought. My pulse had raced, a mix of danger and desire coursing through my veins. And when she’d jumped—hell, it scared me too. But damn if it didn’t make me feel alive. Watching her expression morph from startlement to desire had obliterated any regret I’d had.

Until that regret had come back and taken up permanent residence.

Again.

As I rounded the corner onto Pelican Drive, I shook my head. Because that was the thing—I wasn’t the man for her, but I couldn’t stay away. I craved her like she was the oasis at the end of the desert, and I hardly dared to believe her reactions to me were real. I’d spent most of the nights since doing my best to make it up to her, and not just physically. Last night, I even read to her in bed from the tattered paperback on her nightstand, which happened to be Little Women . Not my type of book but lying there reading out loud with her snuggled up against my chest had been one of the most amazing—most right —things I’d ever experienced.

But we were playing with fire by keeping our relationship cloaked in shadows. Every stolen moment was intoxicating. We were supposed to be figuring out how to break the news to our families, except the secrecy added an edge that was too enticing to give up.

The town was stirring now, shutters opening and dogs barking in the distance. With one last look at the horizon where the sky kissed the sea, I turned and headed back. At least in the soft embrace of morning, I could pretend everything was simple. Just me, the open road, and the ghost of Brenna’s kiss lingering on my lips.

And that other thing I had to do today.

I was just a normal guy who had fallen in love with his girl over a decade ago but couldn’t admit that to her. A guy who happened to have scars crisscrossing his body and his soul.

Sweat clung to my skin as I pushed through the glass door of KeyMark Security. I entered the large open office space to find my two friends, now employees, already at work.

“Morning,” Garrett grunted, not looking up from his computer screen. Myles was at the desk beside him, leaning back in his chair and feet propped on the worktop as he scrolled on his phone.

Myles looked up and grinned. “Yeah, this is about right. The boss takes the day off to relax and we do all the hard work.”

I grabbed a cold bottle of water from the small fridge we kept in the room and drank it all in one shot. “It’s all part of my grand plan to make you feel useful, Decker.”

“Don’t taunt him, Myles.” Garrett shot him a dirty look. “Otherwise, he’ll never leave.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said. My eyes darted to my open office door where the picture of Evan and me as kids still sat in the desk drawer. And the trophy lay in a box in the closet. I’d carried that trophy around for so many years, an albatross around my neck. Would today change any of that? Just the thought sent a mixture of uneasiness and dread slithering through me. I needed the distraction of work and pointed to Garrett. “Sorting out the new case?”

Garrett finally glanced up, then updated me on our new case with an ex-wife stalking her husband.

Myles set both feet on the ground. “The guy seemed pretty embarrassed about it at the intake interview, but I think we put him at ease.”

I nodded, having been there with Myles. And that was why I’d brought him. Light-haired and with a surfer-dude persona even as a Marine, easygoing Myles Decker had a way of making people feel comfortable. Unlike me. That particular skill of his had been invaluable when we were Marine Raiders and needed information. Myles could have someone talking before they even knew what had happened. And despite his casual nature, he was utterly ruthless in a fight.

Garrett straightened in his chair. “The guy is convinced she’s been following him for weeks. We need to set up surveillance and get eyes on her before things escalate.”

It wasn’t so different than the situation with Brenna and Knox. Hopefully, it would end as anticlimactically. “Have you set up a schedule for monitoring her movements?” I asked.

“Myles is about to head out for day shift, and I’m covering tonight,” Garrett replied, his fingers already dancing over the keyboard, probably updating the schedule.

“Count me in for tomorrow.” I had a full day planned today but didn’t want the guys thinking I was slacking off too much.

“Noting it now,” Garrett responded as he typed.

“All right, I need a shower.”

“Pretty much the understatement of the century, dude,” Myles said with a laugh.

I grinned and flipped him off, then tossed the empty bottle in the recycling bin and headed for the stairs and my apartment. The pleasant ache of my morning workout pulled at my muscles. But there was also weightlessness, a sense of purpose that came with the job, with being part of something bigger than myself—a brotherhood forged under fire and solidified further in the quiet streets of our small town.

I let the hot water cascade over me, and steam filled the bathroom, enveloping me in a cocoon of warmth and tranquility. My fingers rubbed the shampoo into my hair as my thoughts scattered to the next task on my day’s agenda. The big one. A blend of excitement and nervousness built in my chest.

After stepping out of the shower and drying off, I dressed in black athletic shorts and a matching shirt. The fabric clung lightly to my damp skin as I downed a quick breakfast and tried to prepare mentally. When I descended the stairs, Myles called out to me.

“Hey, Hunter.”

I turned around and both men were looking at me. Myles was dead serious, not a trace of humor on his face. He nodded gravely. “Good luck today.”

I dragged a hand through my hair as Garrett added a solemn nod of his own. These two had known me for over a decade. They knew what today meant. “Thanks, guys.”

Then I stepped out the back door and entered my SUV to head toward Calypso Key.

Home. Yet not home.

The Big House loomed as I pulled into the drive, its stone and timber fa?ade contrasting against the backdrop of clear blue sky. After I cut the engine, my hands rested on the steering wheel while I took a deep breath and tried to steady the churn of emotions in my gut.

I just sat there, staring at the grand entrance. The thought of opening and walking through that front door tightened something inside me. Years away from the family legacy, of making choices that set me apart, clung to me like a second skin.

As I stepped out, my heart hammered with each step toward the house. The home I’d grown up in, dammit. The idea of knocking felt absurd—like I was a stranger about to peddle vacuum cleaners. And yet, barging in unannounced seemed… presumptuous coming from the black sheep of the family. I paused twenty feet away, my feet stopping on their ow n. Maybe the kitchen door would be better. Less formal, more?—

The front door swung open before I could decide, revealing my grandmother, Nona, whose long white hair caught the sunlight like a halo. Her eyes, the same shade of blue as the Gulf on a calm day, twinkled with unspoken understanding. Her gentle smile softened the apprehension coiled inside me, and as I met her warm eyes, the tension eased. A flash of warmth drifted through me at her familiar western wear, a soft plaid shirt paired with well-worn jeans.

“Good morning, Hunter.” Her voice carried the soft lilt of years gone by. She slowly ambled down the cement pathway to me, her firm step belying her eighty-five years. “I saw you standing there from inside. You look like you’re fighting a battle with yourself.”

“Maybe.”

“Let me tell you something,” Nona said, turning around at my side to stare at the imposing manse before us. “When I first married your grandfather and became a Markham, I was petrified. I came from a simple family, and here was this… empire.”

She laughed softly, a sound that held both fondness and a touch of melancholy. “I remember standing right where you are, not knowing if I should knock or just walk in. It was silly, but I felt like everything hung on that decision.”

I listened, leaning into her story and waiting for the wisdom I knew she’d impart. Her struggles weren’t mine, but maybe they shared the same root.

“Then I realized,” she continued, her voice steady and sure, “that this wasn’t just the Markham estate. It was my home . My family. And I belonged there as much as anyone else.” She paused, offering me a knowing glance that reached into the depths of me. “Just as it will always be your home. And you don’t ever need to feel you aren’t good enough to walk in the front door. You’re a Markham through and through, Hunter.”

Her words were simple, yet they cut through the tangled mess whirling inside me. I embraced this tiny yet fierce woman, whose head hardly reached my chest. My throat was tight, and I cleared it roughly. “Thank you.”

Eventually, I relaxed my hold so she could let go, and we faced the grand manor—our family legacy. We walked toward that mammoth wooden door. I reached for the doorknob, turned it with resolve, and pushed the door open.

“Always,” she said quietly, her eyes crinkling at the corners with a smile.

I ushered her in first, the matriarch deserving of every courtesy. And stepping across the threshold, something shifted inside me—a piece clicking into place. The Big House embraced us with its history, and the walls almost whispered with tales of Markhams past.

“I love you, Nona,” I said, wrapping her in another hug.

“And I love you, Grandson.” She patted my back gently before pulling away and giving me a soft push. “Go on, now. Evan’s in the kitchen.” After a nod, she ascended the staircase.

Turning toward the kitchen, the scent of coffee and the subtle tang of cinnamon greeted me as my feet treaded forward inevitably. Evan was there, his broad shoulders relaxed as he filled a reusable water bottle at the sink. He was dressed in a T-shirt and shorts that showed off strong, muscular legs. I breathed a silent sigh at his obvious good health. But it was the cleats he wore, grass-stained and worn, that caught my attention. Memories of us as kids, playing impromptu games on the beach, sent a wave of nostalgia crashing over me .

“Hey.” I wiped a sweaty palm on the back of my thigh surreptitiously.

“Morning,” Evan replied, glancing up. His eyes flicked to my face, then away as if he too was navigating uncertain waters. The two of us hadn’t been in a room without others present since that awful fight fourteen years ago. A lifetime ago.

I leaned against the doorframe, watching him cap the bottle and slide it into his bag. The air between us was thick with words unsaid, but for now, the silence was enough. It had to be.