Page 5 of Seven Summers Ago
I tug the brim of my hat down to shield my eyes from the sun ricocheting against the powder blue while I study it. This paint color wouldn’t be my first choice. But it’s what Dottie wanted. And I made her a promise.
The color, along with being back at the cottage, has me daydreaming about past lives. Mine and Dottie’s and how they were intertwined. My gut pinches at the memories.
I shouldn’t be surprised she chose Rosie’s favorite color. It’s a popular shade for our small coastal town. It will make resale easier.
“I’m not a house painter.” I shrug. “But I guess it will do.”
“Well, I’m not one either. But thanks for letting me help out lately. I really need the extra cash.” Milo gives me a grim smile and starts loading my tools into the back of my Chevy truck.
I’m not sure “helping out” is the correct term when he’s been working full time for me for three years. But I let him live in hisdream world. “How’s the new album coming along?” I ask my little brother as I fasten the ladder in place.
“It’s almost done. Getting some good hype already. Sounds like people are excited for it.”
I hand him a corner of the drop cloth and take the other. “That’s great. I’m proud of you.”
“Yeah,” he mutters, blowing the curls out of his face. “Save it till after we release.”
I roll my eyes. Milo is worried about nothing. That kid was born with talent others pay big bucks for and spend years trying to replicate. He was made for the spotlight. Definitely not for this small town.
“It’s gonna go viral. Pretty soon you’re gonna be the one helping me out and loaning me money,” I tease, folding the drop cloth and tossing it into the truck.
“Right. Like you’ll need money. You’re not only the best contractor in town, you’re the only one. I’d say you’re set.” He climbs into the passenger side.
Simple living is the only reason. While some locals clung to their homes and land as big investors from LA started buying everything up, I sold mine and bought a smaller place across town where it’s cheaper and less populated.
I glance up at the cottage one more time. The muscles across my shoulders tense as the memories pile on top of each other. Rosie and I spent a lot of our relationship inside those walls. It’s where we fell in love.
But that was a lifetime ago.
I duck my head and slide in behind the steering wheel. It takes me a second or two to get my bearings before I start the engine.
“You okay?” Milo asks.
“Fine,” I mumble.
“You thinking about Dottie?”
I was. But more, I was thinking about Rosie. I’m a glutton for punishment. Because going down memory lane is a bad idea. “Yeah,” I half lie.
“I know you spent a lot of time over here. With her…and Rosie.” He almost whispers her name. Like it’s a bad word and he’s afraid to piss me off.
“I did. She’ll be missed.” I say it matter-of-factly and give him a pointed look before backing out of the driveway, so he knows I’m done with this conversation.
“Beck—”
“Hey,” I interrupt, “what do you say we call it quits for the day and go to Tacos by the Beach for an early dinner and a beer?”
Milo checks the time on his phone. “Dinner? This is even early for your geriatric ass,” he teases.
I’m only three years older than he is. But most days, he doesn’t let me forget it. As if I could; I’m the responsible one out of the two of us. The one who had to grow up too fast. Who had to take care of him when our parents were getting smashed or were too hungover to function.
Our childhood turned me into a bitter person for too many years. It consumed me. Until our parents finally cleaned themselves up and got sober a few years ago. Mom moved across the country and started a new family. Dad moved to the island and bought a bar with an apartment above it. Wonder where I get the glutton-for-punishment trait.
“I mean, I was gonna say my treat, but I can drop you off at home instead,” I mutter.
Milo lived with me up until I bought my place, then he and his band buddies pooled their money together to rent a small condo only feet from the beach. When they aren’t practicing, they’re surfing.
“No, no, I’d love dinner and a beer.”
