Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
It was quickly becoming clear I hadn’t meant anything to him at all.
Cursing, I spun around and dug my phone from my pocket, angrily hitting speed dial for my uncle Brian. Of all of them, that Uncle Brian had voted against me hurt the worst. He was the one I was closest to, the one I’d thought was on my side. He’d been the one to let me work at his bar to earn extra money so I could try to save enough to pay for renovations. I’d truly believed he’d have at least given me a chance to prove myself—to pitch my ideas to the others and try to win them over to my side.
I barely even waited for him to say hello before going at him. “Were you not even going to discuss this with me before accepting? ‘Your next shift is at six, and oh by the way, son, we’re selling the inn out from under you.’”
There was a pause, and then he let out a long sigh. “Look, Sawyer, I’m sorry. We knew what your position was and that it wasn’t going to change.” He sounded genuinely upset, but I didn’t care.
“You should have at least given me the chance to present my ideas!” I spat angrily. “I put together a business plan. I have tables with projections on potential future earnings. I have sketches for new concepts and—”
“I know,” he said gently, cutting me off. “But in the end it wasn’t enough. Not to convince Greg or Mark. Especially with Mark’s troubles at work.”
“But what about you?” I’d always known he’d be the swing vote. I just hadn’t really expected him to vote against me.
“I’m sorry, Sawyer.”
I closed my eyes, letting my chin fall to my chest. Suddenly I was exhausted. Exhausted and defeated.
I thought about my parents’ funeral when I’d sat at the gravesite staring off into space, and Uncle Brian had sat beside me, squeezing my hand the entire time. He’d gone out of his way since then to make sure I knew I wasn’t alone in the world. All three of them had been there for me then and in all the years since. All three of them had only ever wanted what was best for me.
I knew that in my heart, and I knew this situation was no different. They loved me.
That’s why this felt like such a betrayal.
“Look, you know this isn’t personal,” Uncle Brian said. “It just came down to the numbers and what made most financial sense.”
“I know.” My voice came out small and cracked.
“Think of what this money will mean for us,” he continued earnestly. “And for you. This opens any door you want.”
“You’re right,” I said. It was true—I would soon be a millionaire. I should be thrilled. But I wasn’t, which made me feel ungrateful.
“Hey, I’ve got a charter going out today—you want to come help? Maybe fresh air and the open sea will get your mind off things?”
I smiled briefly. Even now, when he’d yanked my dreams out from underneath me, Uncle Brian still worried about me. He always would, I knew that.
“Nah,” I said. “I appreciate it, but I’ve got some things to take care of around here.”
“Well, you know where to find me if you need me. Love ya, kiddo.”
“Thanks.” I ended the call, every part of me feeling defeated. I glanced back toward James’s room. The door still hung open, but there was still no sight of the man.
This was all his fault.
I hated him in that moment.
I wanted to go confront him—to rail against him and take out my anger and pain and sorrow. But I was terrified that if I went back into that room I’d just end up falling into his arms and crying, desperate for him to hold me and comfort me and promise it was going to be okay.
I couldn’t take that chance.
I needed out. I needed away from him and the inn and the mess that my life had turned into overnight. I turned toward the beach and started running. Faster and faster, my bare feet pounding against the sand, until I couldn’t think and I couldn’t breathe and I certainly couldn’t feel. I ran and ran until my lungs burned and my legs began to cramp. When I finally took notice of my surroundings, I recognized the Cambray lighthouse two towns east of McBride with its red bands of paint and glossy black shutters.
Still panting, sweat coursing down my back, I made my way out to the end of the rocky jetty and took a seat on a boulder with a natural curve washed out of it in the shape of a seat. The little dip had a scattering of white sand and minuscule broken seashells in it that I had to brush away so I could sit down. The sand sifted down between the giant boulders to the seaweed-encrusted darkness below. The briny scent of the water soothed me, and the rhythmic sound of the waves slowed my breathing better than any meditation app ever could.