The Inn on Harmony Island (Sweet Tea and a Southern Gentleman #1)
Anne-Marie Meyer
PROLOGUE
Shelby
I’d never noticed the way rain looked as it fell into puddles. The tiny splashes each drop made caused smaller drops to spray around it. The ripples would go for only a moment until another drop would fall, and the effect would happen all over again.
A low murmur of amens drew my focus away from the puddles. I wrapped my black shawl tighter around my shoulders as I turned to the pastor who was standing behind my grandmother’s coffin. He was speaking, but in all honesty, I couldn’t hear what he was saying. My stomach was a bundle of nerves since I drove the rental car into my small hometown, and I couldn’t sort out anyone’s words.
I’d left this place 10 years ago, never to return. That was, until Gran up and passed away. I couldn’t very well not go to her funeral. So, I packed my carry-on and flew down from New York to face the past that I’d tried so hard to forget.
And here I was, staring my history straight in the face.
I sighed as I ducked my head down. Miles’s body tightened next to me when our arms brushed. I glanced over at him to see his jaw muscles flex, but his gaze never wavered from the pastor’s face.
Was it strange that my ex-stepbrother was more broken up about my grandmother’s passing than me?
I pursed my lips and turned my attention to my lap.
Yes, that was strange. And sad. And pathetic.
Even though I wanted to console my ego and convince myself that it was okay that Miles had cried more times than I had during the funeral planning. That the funeral director handed him the box of tissues and never offered them to me. Nothing I could say to myself would fix the cold, hard heart my past had left me with.
I wanted to cry. I really did. But it was as if my tears were dried up. There was nothing left. I’d cried so much in the past that it was as if my body was completely incapable of producing tears. I was broken, and this was proof that I was never going to be fixed.
My body turned numb as I watched the cemetery owner lower the coffin into the ground. Even though it was raining, the early spring heat surrounded us. Mr. Jorgenson, the town’s mayor, wiped his forehead with his handkerchief before stuffing it back into his suit coat. Most of the other guests were leaving, sprinting to their cars with their hands or purses over their heads. The women were slowed by their heels digging into the soft ground.
I glanced down at the dark oak coffin in the ground, wondering for a moment if Gran would have been disappointed with what we’d chosen. Even though it had been years since we’d spoken, I still wanted to please her. To settle her into her final resting place in comfort.
Movement next to me drew my attention over. Miles was standing a few yards off, shaking hands with the pastor who then nodded and turned to hurry through the rain to his car.
We were now officially alone.
Miles hesitated; his gaze focused on something in front of him. But then, as if he could feel my gaze, he turned.
I knew I should look away. Facing Miles—facing Harmony Island—was the last thing I wanted to do. But I couldn’t drop my gaze. The familiarity in his stormy blue eyes as they peered into my soul paralyzed me. Miles had been my protector when we were kids, but then our parents divorced and something in him changed in high school. Our relationship was never the same. Especially now, when he seemed closer to my grandmother than I could ever be. That stung as bad as the wasps from the nest we knocked down as kids.
I shivered and focused on the hole in front of me. I was done thinking about Miles. I was finished thinking about our past. But as soon as I saw Miles approach me from the corner of my eye, I sucked in my breath.
I cursed myself. Why had I allowed our gazes to meet? I’d spent most of my three days here giving short answers and keeping to myself in the only motel in town. The other lodging options, Harmony Island Inn and the Apple Blossom B&B, were places I swore I would never go.
Too many bad memories roamed the halls.
“You okay?” Miles’s voice was low and rumbly. I wasn’t sure if it was because of our history or the situation we were in.
I nodded, tightening my grip on my upper arms. “I’m just glad it’s over. I’m ready to get out of here.” Miles remained quiet. I peeked over at him, worried that I’d said the wrong thing. “I mean—”
“I know what you mean.” Miles slipped off his suit coat, folded it in half, and rested it on the chair behind him. Then he yanked at his tie and loosened the top two buttons of his white shirt. After ruffling his gelled hair, he began to unbutton his cuffs and roll up his sleeves. “She never wanted you to stay away, but she understood why you left.”
His words were like poison to my soul. It was easier to believe that my grandmother hated me than to think she’d spent her life waiting for me to return. When I was in New York, I could pretend that we had a mutual understanding. Our family was toxic. A broken mix of flawed people that fate stupidly threw together. My grandmother, my mother, and me.
We were the opposite of the three musketeers. We were a mixture of oil, water, and alcohol. Three pieces of a puzzle that would never fit together. Now, they were both gone. My senior year of high school, Mom ran away with her yoga instructor and died in a car crash.
With Gran in the ground, I was the only one alive.