Chapter four
Bryan
The Marina Bar is buzzing, filled with the usual mix of locals, tourists, and fishermen unwinding after a long day. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the marina stretches out, boats bobbing lazily under the fading orange sky. Inside, the scent of grilled seafood, salt air, and beer lingers.
I sit at our usual corner booth, nursing a root beer, my fingers tapping against the glass. Buddy sprawls at my feet, his tail giving a slow, rhythmic thump.
I should be focused on business. But my mind is still stuck on the will. Three months. With her.
I rub a hand down my face, scowling. What was Grandma Gracie thinking? The door swings open, and Nate and Liam stride in, bringing their usual energy with them.
Spotting me immediately, they head over. Squatting beside Buddy, they give him a few rubs which he lazily enjoys before gobbling up the treats they each brought with them.
Nate claps my shoulder as he slides into the booth. “You look like you just got hit by a truck.”
I grunt. “You should see the truck.”
Liam smirks, slipping in next to him. “That bad?”
I shake my head, exhaling slowly. “You wouldn’t believe the junk I was told today.”
Nate leans back, stretching an arm over the booth. “Alright, now I’m interested.”
Liam signals to the waitress for drinks. “Let me guess, another fishy account?”
I huff out a humorless laugh. “Try living arrangement.”
Nate frowns. “What?”
Liam tilts his head. “You don’t have a roommate.”
I drag a hand down my face. “Yeah. About that.”
Their brows lift, and I can already tell they’re bracing for something ridiculous. I lean forward, deadpan. “I went to see Henshaw today.”
Nate straightens, interest sparking. “Oh, right, you mentioned that earlier. What’d he want?”
I roll my shoulders. “To tell me that I own half of Gracie’s house.”
"Whoa. I mean, what about Emma?"
I tense hearing her name. I recall the distraught look on her face when Henshaw told her the terms. Did I repulse her so much that the idea of staying under the same roof with me was abhorrent to her? I shouldn't care about what she thinks of me but somehow is all I can think of.
"She owns the other half,"
Liam shrugs. “Okay… and I still don't see where the living arrangement comes in. You can decide to sell your half to her.”
“And I can’t do anything with it unless I live there with her for three months.”
Silence. Then Nate laughs. Loud.
Liam blinks. “Wait. What?”
Nate leans forward, grinning. “Are you kidding? Gracie is something else.”
Liam’s mouth quirks. “She really wants you to live with Emma?”
They wait, eyes locked on me. I sigh. The booth falls completely silent. Then…
Liam bursts out laughing as well, while Nate just stares at me, stunned.
Liam shakes his head, chuckling. “That woman is playing chess from the afterlife.”
Nate finally exhales, incredulous. “She seriously tied you two together like that?”
I nod, tight-lipped. They exchange one of those looks, the kind that makes my blood pressure spike.
Nate, still grinning, leans back. “Alright, alright. Joke’s over. Obviously, you’re not going do it.”
Liam nods. “Yeah. You’ll forfeit, right?”
I take a slow sip of my drink. “No.”
Their smiles fade instantly. Nate blinks. “Wait. You’re actually doing it?”
Liam tilts his head, studying me. “You’d rather live with Emma for three months than just… let the house go?”
I grit my teeth. “Leaving it to her is too easy.”
Nate whistles low. “Wow! You’re really holding onto that grudge, huh?”
I scoff, rolling my shoulders. “You act like she didn’t completely disappear on me without a word.”
Liam’s expression is unreadable. “That was thirteen years ago.”
“And?”
Liam sighs, shaking his head. Nate smirks. “So, what’s the plan, then? Make her life miserable?”
I shrug, not confirming or denying. But the truth is, I haven’t even figured that out yet. Liam narrows his eyes. “You don’t even need the house, Bryan.”
I lift a brow. “So?”
Nate leans forward. “So… why? Why not just walk away?”
I hesitate. Because part of me knows the real answer. It’s not about the house. It’s about her.
I hate that she thinks she can come back like nothing happened. That she looked at me today with those big, guilty eyes, and I still felt something. I hate that some stupid, irrational part of me wants her to regret leaving.
I set my drink down with a thud. “Because I won’t give her the satisfaction. Besides, if either of us doesn't agree, then the house goes to charity. Not that I care if Emma loses the house, I care about Gracie. She was too good to me, and I won't let her house go like that.”
Liam and Nate exchange another look. One that makes me want to punch something.
Nate smirks. “Okay. Sure. That’s the reason.”
I glare. “Drop it.”
Liam chuckles. “If you say so.”
I shake my head, changing the subject. “What’s going on with Boise?”
Nate grins, letting me off the hook. “Thirty million split three ways. Town homes, retail, dog park. I’ve got a site locked, ten mil down.”
Liam nods. “My tech’s in, another ten mil.”
I roll my shoulders, dragging myself back to work mode. “I’m good for ten.”
Nate grins. “Kingston Marina’s portfolio grows again, your picks, my builds, his gadgets.”
We clink glasses, but I’m still not fully present. Because as much as I tell myself it’s just a house…
Emma’s face from today still lingers. Her fragrance, lavender and fresh air, won’t leave my head. And that ticks me off more than anything.
Liam leans back, watching me too closely. “That cliff house… If you restore it, it’ll sell for two mil, easy.”
Nate nods. “Could be worth the investment.”
I pretend to consider it casually. Because, yeah leveraging it makes sense. But we all know that’s not why I’m really staying.
Liam smirks, it’s like he is reading my mind. “Sleep on it. Might not hate it as much as you think.”
Am I that predictable with my thoughts? Or they just assume she is rattling me? I grit my teeth. “Shut up.”
Nate laughs. I push up from the booth, tossing cash onto the table. “I’ll see you at the office.”
Nate winks. “See you at your new home.”
I growl at him as I stride out, Buddy trotting at my side. The cool night air does nothing to clear my head.
Tomorrow, I move in. Not for her. Not for the past. Just to win. Buddy nudges my leg, as if he doesn’t believe me either.
I exhale sharply, muttering, “Three months living together is nothing. I'll just pretend like she doesn't exist, easy.”
And for the first time in years, I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince.
***
It’s morning as I pull into the gravel driveway, killing the engine with more force than necessary.
The house looms ahead weathered, worn, and stubbornly standing against the ocean wind. Just like its last owner.
I exhale sharply, gripping the steering wheel. Three months. That’s all. Three months, and I’ll be out of here.
I push the door open, stepping out as salty air whips against my face. Buddy jumps down from the passenger seat, tail wagging, already eager to explore.
Lucky him. He doesn’t have to deal with all of this emotion.
I grab my duffel from the backseat and sling it over my shoulder. The house groans in the breeze, the porch sagging slightly under my weight as I climb the steps. I shove the key into the lock, twisting… Only for the door to yank open from the inside.
Emma.
Frozen mid-step, her hand still gripping the handle, eyes wide with disbelief. My grip on the duffel tightens.
Her hair is pulled up, a loose strand falling against her cheek. I notice, hate that I do. She’s in worn jeans and a faded tee, nothing special, but somehow it still makes my gut twist in ways I don’t want to acknowledge.
Her gaze sharpens, snapping out of her shock. “Hi,”
I scoff, shifting my bag higher. “Hello.”
For a moment we stand frozen, I stare at her unable to stop my heart from racing faster. She is beautiful, in every sense of the word. Well, expect for her heart. She is selfish, a woman who made me believe in the fairy tale of love but has none to give.
I'm still dwelling on this when Buddy rushes towards her. He starts jumping trying to get her attention. I raise my eyes at this. Buddy isn't usually this friendly with strangers. I watch as she squats and rubs him making him even happier.
She chuckles as Buddy licks her face. The sound going straight to my heart. She is beautiful. Absolutely stunning.
"Can I come in now?"
She huffs out a sharp breath, rising to her feet before stepping back to let me in. The second I cross the threshold; the house smells like her.
Lavender and something warm, familiar. Don't even go there.
Emma turns away, stalking toward a pile of boxes. I let my gaze sweep over the space, dusty furniture, creaky floors, Gracie’s old clock ticking against the silence.
It shouldn’t feel like home. But the memories are buried deep in the walls, clawing their way out. Emma suddenly whirls back, arms crossed.
“We should talk about how this is going to work,” she says, her voice steady. “I think we should split the space.”
I arch a brow. That’s it? No argument? No drawn-out battle? I don’t know what I was expecting, but not this. “Split the space,” I echo, watching her closely.
She nods. “Upstairs is mine, you take downstairs and the back bedroom upstairs. And we split our times in the kitchen. That way, we stay out of each other’s way.”
My eyes narrow. There’s no hesitation in her tone, no flicker of doubt, like she’s completely unaffected by the idea of living under the same roof again.
My jaw tightens. “What if I don’t agree?” I ask.
Emma doesn’t flinch. She just crosses her arms over her chest and lifts her chin.
“Then we make each other miserable for three months,” she says plainly. “But I don’t see the point. I just want to get by.”
That shouldn’t affect me. But something about the way she says it, the quiet strain behind her words, the flicker of exhaustion in her eyes hits me in a place I don’t want to acknowledge.
I drag a hand down my face. Three months. That’s all this is.
“Fine,” I say, exhaling sharply. Emma nods and tells me that I can take one of the bedrooms upstairs as well.
Buddy trots past me, immediately sniffing at the couch, completely unaware of the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.
I take a step toward the living room, looking around at the dust-covered furniture, the old wooden banister leading upstairs.
And suddenly, memories rushes in. Sixteen, racing Emma up the stairs, her laugh echoing through the halls. Her grandma calling after us from the kitchen, lemonade in hand, scolding us for tracking sand inside.
I grit my teeth. The house feels too alive with memories. And I hate that she’s in them.
I turn going to one of the rooms, ready to get this over with. I must confess the house is in a bad state. It would take weeks if not months to bring it back to life.
When I circle back to the dining room, I find Emma hunched over a box, her shoulders stiff. Something in my chest curls.
She looks small, fingers hovering over a leather-bound book. I recognize it immediately. A photo album.
She flips it open, and I see it. Me. Her. Grandma. We’re grinning around a bonfire, the summer before she left.
I exhale sharply, and she hears it. Her head jerks up. Our eyes lock. And in that moment, the air shifts and I see it in her eyes, grief. Raw, aching, just like mine.
She looks away fast, but the damage is done. I felt it too. For the first time since she left, we’re not two strangers standing on opposite sides of a war. We’re just… Bryan and Emma. Both of us missing the same person.
I storm upstairs, hating how that moment cracked something in me. Because it can’t happen. Not again. I toss my bag onto the bed, pacing, forcing the emotions back down where they belong.
I hate that she still gets to me. I hate that I notice the way she tucks her hair behind her ear, the way her voice wavers over Grandma’s name.
And I really, really hate that I want to reach for her just now. Not happening. I rub a hand over my face and reach for my phone, just as a voice drifts up from downstairs.
Emma.
I freeze, listening. “I just need time to settle in my new place. I told you I’d always reach out.”
There’s a pause. Then softer, “You don’t have to worry, I can't forget about you.”
My chest tightens. The rational side of me says it’s nothing. But my gut? It twists.
I grab my keys and fire off a text to Nate. “Marina. Now.” Because I need air. I need distraction. And I need to stop my wayward thoughts about Emma Greene.