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“Don’t get me wrong,” Milo said. “I love that girl. She’s the best. But I don’t do well when girls cry. I always say the wrong thing then they hate me.”
From what Shane could tell, Milo seemed like a pretty nice guy. Friendly, charismatic… all the qualities that made up a good person. He couldn’t imagine anyone hating the guy.
“Thanks for giving me a lift. I know I wasn’t originally on your ticket.”
“I was just busting on Liv. It was no problem.”
Milo was the type of guy Shane could be friends with, but he didn’t know how long he was staying, and friendship was the exact type of entanglement he avoided. Shane had had plenty of friends; unfortunately spending the majority of his youth in and out of children’s hospital, many of his friends had succumbed to their illness.
He always assumed he’d be next, especially after the phone would ring, and Mom would console the grieving parent on the other end. But for whatever reason, he’d survived. Life was fragile, though, and he knew at any minute the cancer that had lived inside of him could rear its ugly head and finally take him out. The doctors had said he beat it. It’d been more than five years, but he could never let go of what a doctor had said to Mom when she had been hopeful.
You’re never fully cancer free. It was bullshit. Shane had met plenty of people who went into remission and had yet to have another bout, but those words still haunted him.
He tried not to think about it. Making friends, attachments put the thoughts to the forefront of his mind. Which was why he avoided making friends in the first place. No friends meant neither side had to deal with the emotional pitfalls of loss.
“Thanks again,” Shane said. He got out of the car and went to the trunk to grab his bag. He hiked it on his shoulder, shut the trunk, and gave the car a good tap.
Milo pulled away with a wave, and Shane stood at the wrought iron gate in front of him. When he had told the woman that was his grandmother—still a hard concept for him to grasp—that he’d be late, she’d given him the gate code. He punched that into the keypad, and the large gate opened.
He made his way up the driveway. It was dark, and he couldn’t see the property around him, but he could smell the salt in the air, hear the water in the distance, and sense that the land around him was massive.
To think all the times Mom had struggled to pay the bills, yet he had family who lived in a place like this. The thing Shane couldn’t figure out was that Mom knew they existed, so why didn’t she ask them for help?
He knew the answer before he even finished the thought. Mom had been a proud person, asking for money from anyone made her feel inferior. She didn’t see it as someone helping her out; she saw it as her own inadequacy. She’d been stubborn that way. As a child Shane didn’t understand it, but as an adult, he respected it.
Shane continued up the driveway, moving past the trees that blocked the estate. Bayview Estate wasn’t as opulent as he expected. It was large, yet cozy. Weathered brown shingles, similar to those on Olivia’s house, covered the house, but instead of the rustic look of Olivia’s house, these shingles made the estate look like old money. White trim accented the windows on the house and the large turret that sat in the middle of the structure.
The fact that he wasn’t met with an excessive display of wealth was a bit of a relief. In his head, he was starting to believe his family were a bunch of rich assholes, which would explain why his dad had taken off all those years ago, but now he hoped that they were just everyday people who happened to have a ton of money.
He confidently approached the front door, and before he could chicken out, he knocked. He only waited a moment before the door flung open.
A woman who looked like Goldie Hawn, both in face and stature, stood in the doorway. Her mouth dropped into an O, and she gasped.
He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other as she continued to stare. “Hi, I’m Shane.”
Tears filled her blue eyes, and her hands landed on her tightly pulled skin. “Look at you. Just like your father. My baby boy.” Her overly plump lip quivered, and she pulled him into an embrace. He didn’t resist, finding her hold rather comforting.
Her scent was strong but pleasant—definitely expensive. She cried against his shoulder, and he patted her back. “It’s okay, Grandma. No need to cry.”
She sniffled and pulled back; the tears halted in her eyes. “I am nobody’s grandma.”
“I…” Shane stuttered.
“Call me Mimi.”
“Six grandkids, and she still can’t accept that she’s old.” A middle-aged man walked into the room; his light brown hair streaked with gray was brushed to the side and off his face. Shane imagined his own eyes would look like this man’s if they had been all green and not a mix of green and brown.
“Do I look like a grandmother?” She planted her hand on her popped hip and tilted her head.
“Not any I’ve met,” Shane said.
Mimi let out a loud laugh. “A charmer, just like your father.” Shane hadn’t been trying to charm her; he was just being honest.
The man walked into the room and draped his arm over Mimi’s shoulders, kissing her cheek. Mimi smiled. “This is your world, and you’re nice enough to let us live in it.” The man’s arms dropped from Mimi, and he held a hand to Shane. “I’m your Uncle Grady.”
Uncle Grady had a strong grip, which told Shane a lot about his character. He was a professional, obviously. Hewasthe town mayor. Shane recognized him from a picture he found on a Google search.
“How are you feeling? You look good. Strong, healthy.”
