Page 32 of Shades of You (Calypso Key #4)

Chapter Thirty-Two

Hunter

Crouched low, the hem of my pants brushed against the grass as I punched the catcher’s mitt on my left hand. The Big House stood sentinel in the background, its windows reflecting the light as the sun looked down upon us. And sixty feet, six inches away from me, Evan wound up for another pitch.

The argument with Brenna hung over me like a thunderhead. After I’d stomped out of the bookshop, I called Myles and had him take over the security system installation I’d scheduled. Instead, I sat in my car and watched the bookshop to make sure Knox didn’t return. I was pretty confident the guy was gone for good—Knox was impulsive, not a planner. And he’d been clear-headed and utterly defeated when he’d left.

But I had to be sure.

No matter where things stood between Brenna and myself, I wasn’t going to let her come to harm. I was done failing. And being too late to make a difference. In the past few days, neither of us had reached out as we let our tumultuous relationship simmer. Which was why I was here throwing a baseball instead of trying to figure out if she and I were off for good. Because even if I’d screwed things up with her, there was still hope of fixing things with my brother.

I caught the ball with a satisfying smack, and the sting vibrated through my hand. But it couldn’t distract me. She’d completely floored me with that talk about my lost love. Where had that come from?

And how could I tell her that she was my lost love?

Especially now?

Because shit had gotten very complicated during that argument. And Brenna wasn’t the only one who was upset. So was I.

I’d woken up determined to hash it out with her one way or the other. After a brutal weight-lifting session, I’d been lying on my couch and stewing as I stroked Pedro, but coming to zero conclusions. When Evan had texted and asked if I could work with him, I couldn’t say no.

We had wrapped up hitting practice, where his coaching had sharpened my line drives substantially. Now he was working on his throwing. His next pitch was well off the plate, and I shifted and snatched my glove out to catch it before tossing it back to him.

“Sorry,” he called out. “That one got away from me. Good catch.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

Again, I focused on Evan, but I couldn’t shake Brenna’s angry, frustrated words echoing in my ears. The unresolved tension between us was an invisible barrier I wanted and needed to tear down. But Evan needed me too.

As he took a brief pause, tossing the ball up and down in his hand, my eyes darted to my gear bag nestled against the vibrant bougainvillea hedge. The contents hidden inside, and the risk I was taking at last, made nerves knot in my stomach. Brenna’s words had rung of truth when she’d told me I had to deal with the whole Evan thing. He and I had come a long way, but he didn’t know the whole story about that dive.

Would it make a difference? I had no idea, but what was in my bag might tell me.

I’d become the bad boy who couldn’t escape his past, but with Brenna, I wanted to be something more. She was the bridge I needed to get there. But she was right—I couldn’t even get to that bridge without Evan.

“Another round?” I called out.

“Let’s do it,” Evan replied, nodding with the brim of his cap dipping low across his forehead.

The next pitch came hurtling toward me. I hardly needed to move my mitt to catch it, and the sting in my palm was a sharp reminder to stay present despite where my thoughts kept drifting. After removing my glove, I shook out my hand.

“You might need to ice that,” Evan said, his voice tinged with amusement.

“Or maybe you could just ease up on those fastballs.” I forced a smile as I settled back into position. His laughter was a brief, welcome distraction from the turmoil broiling inside me.

“You getting soft on me?” He wound up for another pitch.

“You’re the one who likes to point out that we’re playing in a rec league.” I almost missed an easy catch and sprawled onto the ground.

“Focus, man! ”

“Sorry. Maybe the pressure’s getting to me.” I straightened and crouched again.

Evan barked a laugh. “Yeah. I could see how catching would be way more stressful than combat.”

I smiled behind my mask, but there was little humor in it as he threw a massive twelve-to-six curve toward me. I managed to catch that one.

He peaked a brow. “Or maybe something else is eating you?”

“I’ve got some shit going on.”

“Take five?” Evan suggested, pulling off his cap and running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair.

“Sounds good.”

We settled onto the cool grass near our equipment, and I took a long drink of water. My bag called to me once again.

Evan stretched out his right leg and rubbed his knee absently. “You keep looking at your gear. Are you having an equipment problem?”

And there it was.

The opening I’d been waiting for. Now I had to seize it.

Taking a deep breath of courage, I shook my head. “It’s not that. I’ve got something else in my bag. Something I’ve been holding onto for a long time.” I picked at the blades of grass, trying to put the words together. I felt unsteady, like a boat rocked by waves, but it was time to face the storm head-on. “There’s something I’ve never told you about that day we dove the Benson wreck.”

Evan’s gaze snapped to mine, his brow creasing with concern. “What?”

“The reason we were there. Why I wanted to dive that deep room on that particular day. It was supposed to be a celebration.” Now my words tumbled out, leaden with the weight of years of guilt. “You were headed to the Major Leagues, and I… I wanted to do something special for you. Something memorable.”

His eyes widened at my admission, and for a moment, I couldn’t speak. The silence hung between us like the dense air before a storm. My heart racing, I reached for my gear bag and plunged my hand inside. I grasped the MVP trophy, that tragic symbol of what should have been Evan’s greatest triumph.

As soon as he’d texted me this morning, I dug it out of that old box and stuffed it into my bag before I could second-guess myself. Now, it felt cold and accusatory in my grasp when I removed it and held it out to him. His face was perplexed as he took the trophy and turned it around in his hands to study it.

And slowly, haltingly, I told him the story of what I’d hoped would happen that day. And how it had gone horribly, irreparably wrong.

When I was done, I met his eyes, tapping my finger on the grass to emphasize my words. “Not a single day has gone by since. Not. A single. One. That I don’t think about what happened.” My voice was deep and thick, raw honesty scraping at my insides.

Dropping his eyes, he brushed his thumb over the inscription at the base of the trophy. Words that had gone unspoken for over a decade.

MVP Evan Markham. To the first of many awards. I’m proud to call you brother. Love, Hunter.

“Fourteen years,” he murmured.

“I’m sorry, Evan. I wish it had been me. It should have been me.” At last, my voice cracked with the admission—the truth—I’d believed for so long. I had to swallow hard. The apology hung in the air, a lifeline thrown into the churning sea of our past .

He glanced up at me, and the storm of emotion was clear in his eyes—the pain, the confusion. Then he breathed a sigh that sounded like it weighed a thousand pounds. “That’s not true. It shouldn’t have been either of us.”

His words were soothing, but I shook my head. I wasn’t ready to be soothed. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. Not when I can’t forgive myself.”

Without thinking, I did something I hadn’t done in years. Until Brenna. I straightened and lifted my shirt up, exposing all the scars. The bullet holes. Evan’s eyes flew open even wider.

“I spent years chasing… I don’t know what. Oblivion? I didn’t care whether I lived or died. Every time I completed a mission, I hoped it would be enough. Enough to somehow make up for what I’d done. But it didn’t. Most of the time, it just brought more failure.”

Evan opened and closed his mouth a few times, then cleared his throat as he wrenched his eyes to meet mine. “I lived at the bottom of a deep, black pit of self-pity for a long time, Hunter. Seeing you again at the wedding provided the catalyst to see how lost I was. Liv was the one who extended a hand to help me out of that hole. None of us really knew what you did while you were in the Marines. But I’m finally able to see I’m not the only one who’s… suffered. This past year has made it clear that I need to come to terms with that day on the Benson . And with you.”

He turned the trophy around in his hands, then stared into the distance. “And I need to take responsibility for my own part in this. I let myself drown in fury, hatred, and despair for way too long. But after the first few years, I settled into this weird kind of stasis. I made a new life and as long as no one mentioned you, I did okay. All those years, and you never tried to come home. For Christmas, birthdays…”

“I wasn’t around for most holidays,” I said as he returned his attention to me, and our gazes held. “I spent most of my time overseas on deployments. But I understand what you meant about getting along fine as long as you weren’t reminded of… what we’d lost. I pretty much did the same thing. Until Gabe called and asked me to come to his wedding.”

Evan barked a laugh. “Yeah. There was no more hiding after that, huh? God, I almost blew it with Liv that night. But in retrospect, it made me understand that it was high time to face the demons and finally try to vanquish them.”

The breeze toyed with the edges of my hair as Evan struggled with the weight of the moment. His fingers traced the gleaming surface of the trophy, studying it carefully—the symbol of triumph that had been obliterated by our shared tragedy.

“I forgive you,” he said finally. His voice was low, but it carried the strength of a tempest. “We both need for me to do that. Being around you again has made me realize how close we used to be, and I miss that. Forgiveness is the first step, right? And now I hope you can forgive yourself.”

Something inside me shifted at those words, like a lock clicking into place after years of being jammed. Relief flooded my veins to mingle with an ache that had burrowed deep in my bones. “Evan…” My voice was rough, emotion thickening each syllable. “That’s more than I ever thought I’d get.”

“Life’s too short to hold onto anger, Hunter.” He studied the trophy again before raising his eyes to mine. “Thanks for the trophy and for what you were trying to say with it. We’ve both been living in the shadow of that day for too long.”

“Thank you.” My words were simple, but they held the weight of years of guilt and regret, now finally starting to lose their grip. I wanted to reach out, to bridge the physical space between us. But I stayed put, respecting the process that forgiveness required. Evan was the older brother and the one who had suffered most of the consequences of that day. I would wait for him to cross that final divide.

“You’re welcome. Forgive and forget. Isn’t that the old saying? Yeah, I’m ready to forgive you. But I don’t know how to forget about it.”

“I don’t know that either of us can,” I said with a shrug. “But we’ve made a start, haven’t we?”

“We have, and I feel better having gotten all that shit out. Let’s just take it one step at a time, okay?” Evan offered a tentative smile, and I mirrored it back at him.

“Of course.”

As we sat there on the cool grass, the past no longer felt like an anchor dragging us down to dark depths. For the first time in fourteen years, I glimpsed the surface and saw the possibility of breaking through to breathe freely once again. I plucked a blade of grass, twirling it between my fingers as I tried to shake off the weight of our conversation.

Evan stared at me, evaluating, and pointed the trophy at me. “Is this why you were so preoccupied while we practiced?”

“Partly.” The fact was, I needed to talk to someone. And Evan had just reached out in a way I never thought I’d live to see. “Brenna and I got into it a few days ago. It might be time to add something else to the list of my screwups.”

Evan’s brow smoothed as a faint smile came over his face. He set the trophy down in the grass. “Screwing up with women is something I can definitely relate to. What happened?”

As I recounted Knox showing up, then our strained, tense words afterward, I realized something that had been gnawing at me. Something I hadn’t acknowledged yet. “I was upset that she felt the same way as her siblings—the resentment toward us. She doesn’t resent me personally, but us as a family? That came through loud and clear.”

Evan sat up, brushing off his hands. His expression was serious, but his eyes held a glimmer of empathy. “You two don’t have an easy road ahead.”

“Understatement of the century,” I muttered, my gaze drifting toward the Big House.

“Look.” Evan’s tone was earnest as he leaned closer. “Our families have been butting heads since before the Titanic sank. One high-stakes poker game spiraled into well over a century of bitterness. And their own holdings have been steadily chipped away until only Siesta Sunset is left.” He paused, searching my face. “If I were in their shoes, I’d probably feel the same.”

“I don’t know what to do. What to say. Am I supposed to apologize for being a Markham or something?”

Evan grinned. “Never apologize for that. I watched Brenna carefully when we went for that sail. I liked her, and she might be right. Maybe it’s finally time to move beyond this ill will.” He cocked his head. “You’ve got the guts to challenge the status quo. And I think she does too. Relationships have been built on less than that.” He grinned like he’d just said a private joke.

“I’ll call her and see if I can string together a coherent thought,” I said glumly.

Evan burst out laughing. “You’re the poet of the family, so that shouldn’t be too hard, right? ”

I shot him a rueful look. “Turns out words aren’t as easy to find when they’re not written on the page in front of you. But I’ll give it a shot.”

As I flicked a speck of dirt from my catcher’s mitt, the leather felt well-worn and familiar against my palm. I took a deep breath, clearly seeing the parallels between the man sitting beside me and the woman who now lived in every corner of my heart.

Mending the ripped canvases, the one with Evan and the one with Brenna, were intertwined. Inexorably. Until I sorted both out, I couldn’t move forward. My gaze drifted to the small gold object lying in the grass. Today had been a big step toward that, though Evan and I were both still unsure around each other. But I finally believed more steps would come.

He picked up the trophy and saluted me with it. “Thanks again for giving me this. And for telling me the story behind it. People have been trying to tell me for years that there were two victims that day.” He shook his head. “I could never see that—I was too consumed by anger. But now I get it. I’m glad to have you back home, Hunter.”

A deep, hard lump formed in my throat. The urge rose in me again—to embrace him. And again, I held back, instead giving him a nod. “I’m glad to be back too. What do you say we get back to it?”

Evan stood, stretching his legs and offering me a helping hand up. His grin was infectious, and despite the weight of the world, it urged me to smile too.

“Guess we’d better start focusing on that championship,” he said. “It’s this Saturday.”

“Right.”

The championship. Another battle to win. And if we claimed victory there, then maybe I could face Brenna with the same determination.