Page 38 of Shades of You (Calypso Key #4)
Hunter
THE FOLLOWING JUNE
Calypso Key’s annual Sea and Sand Festival was in full swing, a panorama of sounds, scents, and colors across the broad meadow between the Barn and the Big House. The scent of salty ocean air mixed with the savory aroma of grilled seafood, while flame trees dotted the landscape, their fiery blossoms vibrant against the clear blue sky. I hadn’t attended since I was a teenager, so today would be extra special.
For multiple reasons.
The day was picture-perfect for festivities, but the main attraction for us was the sandy area where an age-old rivalry was turning into a friendly match of beach volleyball. The Markhams were on one side of the net and the Coleridges the other. This marked the first time the Coleridges had ever set foot at the festival, let alone played in a game, and the positive energy buzzing between our two families was something I never thought I’d witness.
Brenna stood beside me, her ponytail swishing as she got ready to serve the ball. We were playing the first half of the game with her family, and despite our history, the camaraderie felt as natural as the sand beneath our feet.
“Hey, Hunter, who are you two rooting for?” Evan’s voice rang out across the net, his grin sly.
“Whichever side we’re on!” I shot back, unable to suppress my own smile. In addition to Brenna and me, Ben, Harper, and Eli made up the Coleridge contingent. Ben moved with a sense of newfound purpose, his past troubles shedding with each leap and dive. And his return to Calypso Key was much more encouraging this time. As the ball sailed toward us over the net, Brenna dove, sending it spinning to me. I set it up, and Eli launched into the air to spike it home.
Brenna and I switched sides halfway through the match. Gabe and Aiden stepped out for a breather, and Austin and Braden took our places on the Coleridge side. Evan and I played like two sides of the same coin. He had a knack for setting up the ball just right, and with my height, I loved to spike it into the sand.
Many of the guys around us were shirtless, including Evan. I doubted I’d ever be comfortable exposing my scarred torso in public. But I’d continued to add color to my wardrobe, and today I wore a dark orange T-shirt to go with my black board shorts. With Brenna by my side, every spike and every serve felt like a small victory.
Stella was taking a break from manning the barbecue both, and her competitive edge was evident in every move she made. Wyatt’s laughter was a constant backdrop to our plays as he rushed to tap the ball over the net. The Coleridges won the next point, then Eli performed a high, arching serve. The volleyball soared against the brilliant June sky toward us. I could almost feel the collective breath of the crowd held tight as Evan watched its movement, then set it up perfectly. With a resounding smack, I sent the ball hurtling over the net, securing another point for the Markhams.
“Game point!” Stella called out. We rallied, sweat-slick and sun-glazed, our eyes locked on the Coleridges.
“Come on, Noah, cheer for Uncle Evan and Uncle Hunter!” April’s laughing voice lilted from the sidelines, where she cradled her son close to her chest. She held his arm up in a mock cheer as he stared at the crowd, eyes round with fascination. Gabe stood beside her with his hand resting over her shoulder. Young Noah was the spitting image of his father, pure Markham all the way. Though he was blessed to have inherited his mother’s happy personality, thank God. Despite me being several inches taller, Gabe would always be my big brother. The pair had blossomed in their new role, and Hailey positively doted on her little brother.
My eyes were pulled back to the match as Harper served, and the game climaxed in a long volley that tested the limits of reflex and resolve. We were all gasping for air, muscles burning, when Wyatt made a daring save, setting me up for the final shot. Leaping into the air, I spiked the ball into the sand on the far side.
“And that’s the win!” Evan proclaimed with raised arms, but there was no sting in his triumph, only the warm embrace of shared exultation.
“Next year, we’ll take you down,” Ben said, smiling as he offered his hand to Evan.
“Looking forward to it,” Evan replied, clasping Ben’s hand firmly.
I watched my brother shake hands, but the vision filling my mind was of a sunrise morning several months ago. A ceremony where he pledged his life to Liv on the bluff behind the Big House. When Evan had asked me to be his best man, it was one of the best moments of my life. And I’d stood there just behind him that morning, feeling pride and love so fierce it threatened to crack me open.
My heart was still full as I caught the sun glinting off his wedding ring when he walked off the court. It struck me how much everything had changed, and my gaze panned back to Gabe, April, and their little family. Their wedding was the catalyst that had started all this.
And we weren’t done yet.
Brenna’s hand found mine as we walked away, her fingers weaving through mine like they’d always belonged there. Around us, the festival buzzed with life. Parts of our families peeled off toward the Conch Republic beer garden, while others fell in behind us to take in the rest of the activities.
“Feels like we’ve rewritten history, doesn’t it?” Brenna mused, taking in the people around us.
“Rewritten, or maybe just… continued it in a better direction.”
The blending of our families today was a testament to Brenna’s vision, her unyielding belief that the past didn’t have to dictate the future. It wasn’t always smooth sailing, of course. Careless words occasionally slipped out of a mouth. But now they were forgiven. Then forgotten.
“Either way, I’m glad you’re part of my story,” she said, leaning into me slightly as we navigated through the crowd.
“I plan to stay that way. ”
We passed Garrett and Myles, exchanging good-natured hellos with them. They were with a group of guys they’d become good friends with. I was glad to see them settle into Dove Key and make it their home, and I occasionally hung out with the gang too. But more than anyone, my two friends understood that today was about family for me.
We still made rounds at Calypso Key as members of KeyMark, which now included Ben on a part-time basis. And we provided a physical presence to reassure guests and dissuade anyone else who might not be thinking happy thoughts. But no further security incidents had happened, and I was confident we were providing my family’s business with the perfect amount of security.
Brenna and I entered the long stretch of booths facing each other with a wide, grassy aisle between. Face painters, artisans, carnival games made for a fun, raucous atmosphere.
“Looks like there’s a shooting game up there,” I said, pointing to a booth just ahead. “It’s been a while. Wonder if I can still hit anything?” Of course, that was a white lie and Brenna laughed at me. I went to the range regularly.
We stopped at the tent—a row of toy rifles and a series of targets that beckoned challengers. A small crowd cheered, and the competitive spirit was infectious as our two families gathered behind us.
“Come on, let’s see what you’ve got.” Brenna grinned, and her eyes glinted with challenge.
“All right. You asked for it,” I said with mock seriousness. As I stepped up, the familiar itch resurfaced—an old friend from days when my targets had been much more serious. Nerves swirled in my stomach.
Don’t screw this up, Markham.
But when I lifted the play rifle to my shoulder, my body settled into the stance that still felt second nature. Relaxing, I aimed down the sights and let out a breath. I squeezed the trigger. The rifle made a sharp crack, and for a moment, everything else faded—the cheers, the music, the smell of the ocean—all of it secondary to the bull’s-eye winking back at me from afar. The bull’s-eye that suddenly had a big black hole in the center.
Behind me, the combined family crowd cheered.
I moved on to the next shot, and the rifle felt like an extension of my arm, a muscle memory from years of experience guiding each movement. I took aim, and the trigger gave way beneath my finger, resulting in another hole in another target’s center. Three more followed in quick succession as I adjusted to the toy rifle. Each bullet met its mark, and our assembled family erupted in applause that rippled through the warm June air.
“I’d say you’ve still got it.” Brenna laughed, her eyes alight with an admiration that made my chest puff up.
“What, you doubted me?”
“Never for a second.”
“Choose your prize,” the game attendant announced, gesturing to the array of stuffed animals and trinkets that adorned the booth’s shelves.
I gestured grandly to Brenna, and her gaze swept over the prizes. I tried not to exhale in relief when her attention snagged on one particular item—a whimsical bookworm with oversized glasses perched on its plush face and a tiny book clutched in its soft limbs. The plush figure I’d given to the booth attendant hours ago.
Her eyes sparkled as she jabbed a finger at it. “That one! That little bookworm is just too cute.”
“I’d say that one’s perfect for you,” I agreed, reaching out and claiming the prize from the attendant .
“Here you go,” I said, handing the stuffed animal to her with another flourish. “A worthy addition to your bookshop, milady.”
“Thank you,” Brenna said, her eyes dancing as she hugged the bookworm close. “I love it!”
Holding it out again, Brenna’s fingers danced around the edges of the tiny book clutched in the bookworm’s limbs.
“It looks like the book opens,” I said, nudging her softly.
With a curious tilt of her head, Brenna obliged and unfolded the small cover. The moment froze, a soft breeze playing with her light brown hair as her eyes widened in unguarded astonishment at what lay inside.
“Is this what I think it is?” Her voice trembled, and her eyes glistened as they met mine.
“Only if you think it’s a ring.”
My attempt at nonchalance failed spectacularly. Every muscle in my body wanted to twitch, and I resisted the urge to wipe my hands on my shorts. A collective gasp rose from our families behind us when realization dawned.
Taking a breath that seemed to draw in the whole of the earth’s atmosphere, I plucked out the ring. The sun caught on the diamond and scattered prisms of light across her perfect, gorgeous face. I dropped to one knee on the soft meadow grass, my gaze locked with hers.
“Brenna Coleridge,” I said, my voice steady and sure, “you’ve done something no one else could. You brought together two families who were more used to feuding than friendship. You’ve shown them—shown me—what it means to feel whole again.”
Her hands flew to her mouth, stifling a sob, and I continued, pouring every ounce of my truth into the words. “You are the peace after the storm. You’re the reason I believe in second chances.” The crowd hushed, and a blanket of expectancy draped over us as I reached for her hand and slid the ring on. “I love you more than the depths of the ocean that surrounds us. Will you marry me?”
Tears shimmered in Brenna’s eyes as she stared at the ring, then lifted her gaze to mine. “Of course,” she called out, her voice clear and resolute as a bell’s chime. “Yes, Hunter. One hundred times, yes!”
As cheers erupted around us, the applause cascaded from one end of the meadow to the other. Two families, once divided by old grudges, now stood united, their clapping hands and joyful shouts echoing around us.
“Who would’ve thought?” Brenna said, her voice tinged with amazement as she glanced at our families. “The Coleridges and Markhams cheering for the same cause!”
“History is overrated,” I teased, pulling her close. “We’re writing our own story now. One page at a time.”
And then, as if the moment couldn’t get any more perfect, her arms wound around my neck, pulling me down into a kiss. It spoke of long nights and sunny days, of quiet moments and roaring passions. My heart filled to the brim, like it couldn’t contain the euphoria I was experiencing.
When we finally broke apart, breathless and grinning like fools, the world faded into a blur of colors and cheers.
“Ready for forever?” I asked with a thick, hoarse voice.
“I always have been,” she murmured back with her fingers tracing the line of my jaw.
As the sun watched over the festival, we sealed our vow with another kiss. It was a beginning, a declaration, and a promise made under the watchful eyes of flame trees and the approving roar of our families. The end of the old and the start of something brand new.
It was a shared excitement for the next chapter of our love story, for a Shakespearean tragedy we’d spun to have a happy ending.
Thank you for reading SHADES OF YOU!