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It had been an accident.
Joe’s face flashed through her mind. He had gone so pale right before blood had gurgled into his mouth and he’d died. She shuddered. She didn’t want to think about that. Not now, not … on this day.
She moved from pot to pot and trimmed the plants one by one, then rearranged them on the deck. It was comforting to have a routine of researching who needed shade or water or how long they needed sun each day.
Her thoughts went back to more childhood memories of Trent and Hunter. All the summers playing on the beach with them. When they had grown older, they’d both dated her. They had fought over her. Sometimes, they hadn’t even cared that one of them would go out with her on Friday and then the other would go out with her on Saturday.
It had been so silly, but it had been fun. Most of the time, she and Trent and Hunter all hung out together. She had tried not to show a preference for one over the other. She loved them both. They had talked about their admiration for Trey, and sometimes their hate for Marshall when he was a jerk. Of course, they adored Kensi, who mothered them often. Brooks was kind of in a league of his own, always focused on a goal to the point that he wasn’t around too often. None of that really touched the two of them, because they had each other.
The beach crew had been a staple during her summers. Now, Trey and Ava were back and running the inn and Kensi had come back and married Tim, the town sheriff. That had led to Marshall and Kat moving back six weeks ago and opening a motorcycle shop right down the street from her salon. It was crazy. And perfect.
Well, it had been perfect. Until Trent died.
Her heart wrenched, thinking of Liberty and how badly she would be hurting. She pulled out her phone and texted her.
I love you, Lib.
Liberty would be with the family at the inn. Obviously, she wouldn’t be checking her phone, but … Cheryse wanted her to know that she was thinking about her.
She settled back to taking care of her plants, her mind flipping back to when all of them were silly teenagers. With a rueful chuckle, Cheryse thought of how she’d hidden a note from Liberty to Trent all those years ago. Cheryse had been jealous of the chemistry that Liberty and Trent had together even back then, which was teenager-ish and silly and horrible of her.
Good thing she’d truly been happy for them when they’d married six months ago. They’d made their official home in South Port and their second home in Virginia Beach when Trent had to be there. They shared the house with Hunter. Whenever Trent was gone, Liberty came back to South Port and spent a good deal of time refurbishing the home she’d inherited from her grandmother. It had all been working out.
Until it hadn’t.
That’s how life was; it worked until it didn’t.
Cheryse thought about the only Stone sibling not living here besides Hunter; Brooks. He and his wife Serenity were stationed in Washington, D.C. Cheryse didn’t think Brooks would ever give up the FBI.
Cheryse surged to her feet and cursed herself. She’d been a horrible friend the past few months. She’d been so wrapped up in her own drama with Roger that there hadn’t been a lot of thought for anyone else.
Hunter had carried a small limp as he’d trudged away from them at the funeral. He must be in so much pain after his knee surgery last week. And that was nothing, Trey had told her, compared to the bullet the doctor had dug out of his neck. Apparently, Hunter had been lucky that the bullet hadn’t hit anything major.
She was pretty sure Hunter wouldn’t describe himself as lucky today.
He’d had a nasty breakup last year with Amy. He and Cheryse had texted back and forth about it, but she should have called him. She should have … been there for him more.
Her phone buzzed, and she quickly pulled it out, hoping it was Hunter. Nope. It was her mother. For a second, she only stared at it. She didn’t want to talk to her mother about the funeral, but she felt a duty to do so; her mother loved the Stone family, too.
She picked up the phone and pressed the answer button. “Hello.”
“Cheryse,” her mother said softly.
Just hearing her mother’s voice made her bottom lip quiver. “Mom.”
“Tell me about it.”
Cheryse found herself, in a slightly robotic way, talking her mother through who had been there and how Trent had been buried next to his mother and father. She told her about Pastor Henry’s kind words and about how Hunter had stalked off, not throwing dirt on the grave and denying Trent was really dead. It was hard to talk about, but she knew her mother needed to hear it.
“Oh my gosh, poor Hunter. Oh my gosh.” Cheryse’s mother tsked her tongue. “Their mother would never have wanted them to be alone on this earth. When she came to the salon, she told me how it was hard to have twins, how hard it was to have six children who were so lively and engaged and all of these things. Then immediately she told me how she was grateful the twins had each other. With Kensi and Trey, though they were so different and they had walked such different paths, she knew Kensi would always be a soft spot for Trey. You know that was before we ever thought he would come home to South Port.”
One thing that Cheryse had discovered about all hairdressers was that they had the gift of gab. Their clients became their family. Even now, Cheryse felt that responsibility when she heard something about a client or something that happened to them. “Right.”
Where was Hunter right now?
Her mom kept talking about the different siblings and her own memories of the family. After a while, she said, “Cheryse, are you there?”
Cheryse startled as her mother’s soft voice pulled her back to the present. “Yeah.”
