Page 35 of Shades of You (Calypso Key #4)

Chapter Thirty-Five

Brenna

I forced myself to walk away from the stands, and my heart squeezed tight as the cheers for the Stingrays’ victory faded behind me. The sun kissed the horizon, casting long shadows across the baseball diamond where Hunter and his brother shared a moment that might have healed years of damage.

After the thrilling game ended, I’d watched them embrace from the stands as I sat next to April. I felt like an intruder. Theirs was a private celebration, one that made my chest ache. Because even though Hunter and Evan appeared to have completely reconciled, the Markhams and Coleridges were still estranged.

And that was my fault.

Hunter had done everything possible to make up with Evan, and mended bridges in a way that brought tears to my eyes. And yet here I stood, too scared to even start that journey between him and my own family.

So when April went to join them, I left too. As I slipped into my car, I couldn’t shake the image of Hunter’s face. The vulnerability in his eyes when he looked at Evan had made me long to comfort him, to tell him how incredibly proud I was.

But what about us?

How did he feel about me?

Even though I loved him, I’d never said the words out loud. And neither had he. My mind turned once again to his lost love. The one he never wanted to talk about. Was she part of why he had such a hard time moving out of the past? My hands tightened on the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white as uncertainty filled me. Maybe he still mourned her. Maybe I was just a stand-in for what he once had.

Sighing, I rolled down the window to clear my head. The sea breeze whipping through was bracing as I drove away from Big Pine Key. And I knew where I had to go.

I headed west on Main Street, which led directly to Siesta Sunset.

When I got there, Harper was ready to close up shop. The two of us headed toward the beach and Tidal Hops. The comforting hum of lively conversation and the soft clinking of glasses greeted me as I nudged open the door. The brewpub’s beachy charm, a blend of laid-back comfort and pale turquoise walls, somewhat soothed my restless spirit. A smattering of tables spilled out from the indoor space to an inviting canopy-covered outdoor area with the sand as a floor. My brother Braden’s great passion was a casual, welcoming place. Harper and I sat outside, enjoying the warm air now that the sunset was just a faint line on the horizon.

“Well?” She laid both hands on the wooden tabletop, pressing them into the surface. “Don’t keep me in suspense. Who won the championship?”

I forced a cheerfulness I didn’t quite feel. “The Stingrays. Yay!”

“Good for them!” Harper’s eyes lit up as she leaned forward. “How did Hunter play?”

“Good. Well, more than good. He hit the game-winning home run.”

Harper cocked her head, her forehead growing lined. “So why are you here instead of celebrating with him? Haven’t the two of you made up? You went to the game, after all.”

But before I could elaborate, Braden appeared at our table, wiping his hands with a cloth. Two years younger, my brother was the epitome of beachy charm, with tousled Coleridge-colored light hair that caught the overhead light like spun gold. His casual attire accentuated a toned physique earned from years of rolling kegs and tending bar. But it wasn’t just his good looks that drew people in. His infectious energy and genuine warmth made everyone feel at ease in his presence. “Hey there, ladies. What can I get you tonight?”

“How about shrimp baskets and some beer?” I asked.

He nodded. “You got it. Is this private girl talk, or can I join you?”

Harper remained quiet, so I smiled at my brother. “Nothing private at all. Please do.” Since I was here to talk about mending feuds, I needed him here. After placing our order, he returned to the table with three frosted pint glasses and a pitcher of his signature IPA.

Harper gave him a quick rundown of the Stingrays game. “And she was just about to inform me why she’s here instead of celebrating with the victors. So spill, sis. ”

I had a hard time finding the words. “Because… I felt like an outsider. I wanted him to have this time with his family. And I got a little insecure about how much Hunter cares about me.”

Braden’s blue eyes clouded, and his face grew tight. “What do you mean? Did he blow you off?”

I lifted my palm out before my little brother could fully rev up that protective streak. “Not at all. The moment wasn’t about us. I didn’t want to butt in.”

Their expectant gazes encouraged me to continue.

“Hunter and Evan reconciled, right there on the field after the game.” The words tumbled out, laden with the significance of the moment I had observed.

Braden’s eyebrows shot up, and Harper’s mouth formed a perfect O.

“Wow,” Harper breathed out and took a quick sip. “You mentioned they were trying to mend things. But they were estranged for a long time. Now all’s well between them?”

“What I saw was very different,” I confirmed, nodding solemnly. “The entire family was on the field.”

“Huh,” Braden murmured, leaning back in his chair. “Never thought I’d see the day. Guess we’ll have to find a new source of gossip now.”

I swatted his arm, ignoring his grin. A weird mix of pride and sadness enveloped me. Pride for Hunter’s courage and sadness that confronting my own fears seemed an insurmountable task. Sadness that I couldn’t share this momentous occasion with him.

“Good for them,” Harper said finally, a note of admiration threading through her voice. “It takes a lot to bury the hatchet after so long.”

“Isn’t that the truth.” I sighed, staring down at the polished wood of the table, tracing the grains with my finger.

“Are you okay, Brenna?” Braden asked. He cleared a space in the middle of the table as a big basket of fried shrimp and French fries arrived.

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied, offering a smile that didn’t feel very genuine.

Harper studied me, her intuition always attuned to my moods. Then again, she knew there was more to my story with Hunter than Braden did. “No, you’re not,” she said, her eyes locking onto mine. “You’ve got that look.”

“What look?” I reached for a handful of crispy fries but dropped them on my plate, my appetite suddenly waning.

“The Hunter’s invaded my thoughts and now I’m spiraling look. You can’t fool me, Bren.”

I exhaled slowly. “It’s just… watching him make peace with Evan today. I felt like I was seeing the old Hunter again. No, that’s not quite right. Maybe a brand-new Hunter—the good man who’s always been beneath all the trauma, you know? And I just couldn’t handle what was happening. So I got up and left without saying anything to him.”

“Why?” Braden’s question was gentle, but it sliced through the haze of my uncertainty.

“Because I felt so apart from everything, and I don’t know where things stand.” I glanced away, watching the ebb and flow of the patrons around us. “We got into a fight and haven’t really talked since. Which is my fault—he reached out to ask me to attend the game.”

“Have you thought about talking to him? Like, actually sitting down and laying it all out on the table?” Harper asked .

“Every day,” I admitted. “But fear’s a powerful thing. It keeps telling me I might not like what I hear.”

“Or,” Harper countered, pointing a French fry at me, “you might find out he cares about you more deeply than you realize. Especially now that he’s got his family problems settled. Is that worth the risk?”

“Probably,” I murmured.

“Look, I’m no expert on love, but if there’s one thing I understand, it’s taking risks.” Her gaze turned pointed, unwavering. “You keep talking about how Hunter is willing to fight to turn his life around. Maybe it’s your turn to fight for what you want. For who you want.”

“And that brings us back to square one,” I said as I pushed some shrimp around on my plate. “It’s not just about me and Hunter, is it? It’s about all of us. Coleridges and Markhams.”

“So you keep telling us,” Braden said, and Harper elbowed him. I shot her a smile at the support, much more obvious today, as if hearing that Hunter and Evan had made up reassured her about him.

Trying to gather my thoughts, I ate a crispy fried shrimp. “Seeing Evan forgive him today… it helped me find my own courage. This feud has served nothing but to keep people apart. If Evan can put aside years of resentment, of a shattered life, surely my own family can sit down with Hunter—without casting judgment or bringing up the past.”

“I’ve had my doubts about you being involved with him,” Harper said as she swirled a finger over the rim of her pint glass. “And I’ve had plenty of resentment toward the Markhams. The hostility between Evan and Hunter only solidified it for me. So the two of them reconciling today… I didn’t think it would ever happen. I’m big enough to admit when I’m wrong about someone. ”

“Does that mean…” I trailed off, hesitant to get my hopes up.

Harper’s smile rose. “Yes, Brenna. I’ll meet Hunter, provided he’s willing to fight for what you two have. Everyone deserves a chance. So I’ll stand by your side to help convince the rest of our family.”

“Thank you.” I reached across to give her a quick hug. “That means the world to me.”

I turned to Braden. “Okay, Mr. Protective. Ben has already agreed to give Hunter a chance. What do you say? You willing to bury the Coleridge-Markham hatchet?”

He shrugged as he stared at me steadily. “All I want is for you to be happy, okay? So yeah, I’ll give the guy a shot. But fair warning—I don’t care that he’s the size of a gorilla. If he mistreats you, I’m gonna have some choice words for him.”

I laughed out loud, my mood lightening by the moment. “You don’t need to worry about that. He might be ferocious on the outside, but Hunter is a gentle giant.”

Harper raised her beer glass. “Then let’s drink to ending feuds.”

I climbed the stairs to my second-story apartment, its familiar creaks greeting me like an old friend. Inside, the silence was complete, and in its stillness, my determination solidified. As I paced across the worn wooden floorboards, the weight of what I was about to do settled on my shoulders—not heavy but undeniably present. I rehearsed lines in my head, scenarios playing out like dog-eared pages of one of the romance novels our club read each month. But Hunter was not a character I could rewrite to suit the narrative.

I stopped at my bookshelf to run my fingers along the spines of countless stories that had seen me through sleepless nights. Each one held a piece of me, echoes of dreams and desires etched between the lines. My eye fell on a worn paperback of The Old Man and the Sea that I’d borrowed from Hunter. No one else had ever understood what books meant to me. How they were more than pages between thick paper or leather. They were doorways to different worlds.

Spinning on my heel, I marched to my purse and withdrew my phone. My thumb hovered over the call button on Hunter’s contact, a prayer whispered under my breath for courage. I exhaled a breath of nerves. “Okay, here we go…”