“Hey, you little hedonist. Back to your exercise,” Quinn called, but then he recognized the person she’d discovered. Caden sat alone, a volleyball in the sand beside him.

  “This your dog?” he asked as Quinn reached them.

  “My mother’s.”

  He ducked a lick from Molly. “She’s friendly.”

  “She doesn’t like other dogs, but she loves humans. And she’s not above begging,” he joked and gestured at the volleyball. “You waiting for some friends?”

  Caden looked at the ball as if he’d only just remembered he had it with him. “Not really. Not until later.”

  Something was off. Caden didn’t seem to be the same happy boy who’d come into the restaurant. “You okay?”

  “As okay as anyone would be, I guess,” he replied.

  Quinn hesitated. He didn’t want to invade Caden’s privacy, but he could tell something was wrong. “That didn’t sound too convincing. You want to talk about it?”

  “Naw.”

  “You sure?” Quinn sat down beside him. “This isn’t about your father, is it?”

  “It probably wouldn’t have happened if my father was still around but...not really.”

  Quinn remembered Autumn telling him that her daughter had taken Nick’s disappearance much harder than her son and figured that maybe Caden was having a delayed reaction. “Sometimes we don’t have any control over the stuff that knocks us down. We just have to figure out how to deal with it and do our best to get back up.”

  Caden flipped his bangs out of his eyes and looked over. “Your mom’s fighting cancer, right?”

  “She is.”

  “I’m sorry about that.” He squinted against the glint of the sun as he stared out to sea. “Do you think she’s going to make it?”

  Everyone in town was being so careful to insist his mother would win the battle that Quinn sort of appreciated someone who was willing to confront the reality of the situation. “I want to believe she will. She beat it last time. But now it’s back.”

  “I hope she can beat it again.”

  “So do I. I don’t want her to die, but if she’s going to die, I’d rather she die quickly and not have to suffer.”

  “I get that.” He gave Molly, who kept nudging his hand and sidling up next to him, another scratch. “It might be that you’ve had too much warning—had to watch it coming for a long time—and I had none.”

  “You’re right,” Quinn said, surprised by the maturity of that insight. “Neither is easy.”

  Caden picked up his ball and began to spin it in his hands as Molly finally wandered off to smell a piece of seaweed. “I get so mad at him sometimes, you know?”

  “Mad at him?”

  “For leaving. At least you know your mother has no choice. Why’d my father have to get involved in whatever he got involved in? Why’d he have to go to Ukraine? We were doing fine! We were happy!”

  “What do you think the answer is?”

  “My mom said he was trying to serve our country. She said that’s an honorable thing to do, and I should be proud of him. But what did he really accomplish?”

  “Maybe that’s something you’ll learn later. Or maybe it’s something you’ll never learn. Either way, I get why you’re mad. His sacrifice turned out to be your sacrifice, and you didn’t get a choice in the matter.”

  “Yes,” Caden said, looking relieved to at least be understood. “That’s it.”

  “But dying while trying to do something courageous is just as admirable as getting it done, Caden. Maybe more so. He made the ultimate sacrifice, even though he had so much to live for—his work and, more important, his wife, his daughter and his son.”

  “I guess I’m letting him down by being a big baby, huh?”

  “Not at all. You have the right to grieve. And anger is part of that. But he wouldn’t want you to let what happened to him destroy your life, you know?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So you need to remember how much he loved you. Hang on to that always—and keep your chin up.”

  When he started blinking quickly, Quinn decided they’d dealt with enough emotion and stood. “Want to serve me a few? It might be good practice for you.”

  “You play?” Caden asked in surprise.

  “I grew up here,” Quinn said. “Course I play.”

  Molly ran around while they took the closest court until it got too crowded on the beach to allow her that much freedom, at which point Quinn tied her up so they could play a little longer. Caden was better than he’d expected, and the longer they practiced digs and dives and other hard returns, the happier Autumn’s son seemed to get. He was working through his anger and pain physically, and Quinn knew how good that felt, so he kept going as long as he could.

  It was almost noon by the time he told Caden he had to get over to the restaurant.

  “Thanks,” Caden said. “I really appreciate you hanging out with me this morning.”

  “No problem. Come in and have another crab sandwich later. You’ve got to be getting hungry. You can bring Taylor again, too, if you want.”

  “No way,” he said with a grimace. “I’m not even talking to her.”

  “Why not?”

  He seemed uncertain for a second, then he said, “Can I trust you?”

  Quinn didn’t know how to answer that question. He didn’t want Caden to tell him something he’d feel obligated to relay to Autumn. “You know how adults are,” he said. “Depending on the secret, you probably shouldn’t tell me.”

  “I don’t think this is one of those kinds of secrets. My mom’s going to find out about it eventually, regardless.”

  Intrigued, Quinn couldn’t help saying, “Okay, then. What is it?”

  “Taylor’s pregnant,” he replied.

  Quinn felt his jaw drop. “What did you say?”

  “Yeah, man. Can you believe it?”

  A snippet of conversation from last night went through Quinn’s mind: Even if they did go all the way, at least she didn’t get pregnant. “No, I can’t.”

  21

  Autumn couldn’t get much out of Taylor. She sat on her daughter’s bed and tried talking to her, but Taylor insisted her latest argument with Caden wasn’t a big deal—even though Autumn could tell it was much worse than usual.

  “What does this have to do with Oliver Hancock?” she asked, trying a different tack.

  She could feel her daughter stiffen under the covers. “Nothing. Why do you ask about him?”

  “Caden said to tell you that Oliver was his friend.”

  “I know that.”

  “He’s a year younger than you, anyway.”

  “I know that, too. But so what? I’m friends with all kinds of kids—seniors, juniors, even sophomores. What does age have to do with anything? Besides, just because Caden doesn’t like Oliver doesn’t mean I have to hate him, too.”

  “Your brother was pretty hurt when Oliver asked Miranda to the prom,” Autumn pointed out. “Caden had made it clear he was going to ask her.”

  “So? Maybe Oliver had planned on asking her even before that. Regardless, it was just a stupid dance. No big deal. Miranda isn’t a nice girl, anyway. She’s catty and selfish—no one he should be interested in.”

  Autumn wasn’t happy with her daughter’s response, and she made sure it showed in her face. “That may be true from your vantage point, but he should be allowed to decide for himself, shouldn’t he?”

  “Then he can decide. I’m just saying he took someone else to the dance so he didn’t miss out on anything. And if he can decide for himself about Miranda, I can decide for myself about Oliver.”

  Autumn sighed. Taylor was stubbornly missing the point, but she figured it might help to back off and give her daughter some time to think things over. Pushing Taylor never seemed to work. She’d only dig in deeper. She was like her father that way, Autumn thought. “Okay. I’m going to chalk this one up to the usual teenage squabbles. But I hope you understand that this is more about Oliver’s betrayal of Caden’s friendship than whether or not he got to go to the dance or Miranda is the girl of Caden’s dreams.”

  “Mom, it’s over, okay? Do we have to keep going on and on about it?” She broke into tears. “I’m a terrible sister and a terrible daughter! Is that what you want to hear?”

  “I didn’t say you were a terrible sister or daughter. I think you could be kinder to Caden, though, and I think he could be kinder to you. That’s all.”

  She buried her head beneath the pillow, but confused by this sudden display of emotion, Autumn kept talking. “Taylor? Will you at least try?”

  “Okay.” Her capitulation was muffled by the pillow, but figuring she’d gotten all she was going to get, Autumn stood and gave her daughter’s arm a comforting squeeze. “I’m sorry your day started off so badly. Do you want to get up and have breakfast with me?”

  “Where’s Caden?” she asked, her head still under the pillow.

  “He went to the beach.”

  Autumn assumed that meant she would come to breakfast, since Caden wouldn’t be around. But Taylor didn’t move. “No, I just want to go back to sleep.”

  “Okay. You do that. Maybe when you wake up, you’ll be in a better mood,” she joked. “How are you feeling about Sierra, by the way?”

  Taylor threw the pillow onto the floor and lifted her head. “Why do you ask?”

  Autumn hadn’t expected her simple question to elicit such a defensive response. “Because after she was here for dinner on Sunday, you were worried about your friendship, remember? I’m just curious if everything is okay between you.”

  “Oh.” Her hair was flying around from static electricity. She smoothed it down as her expression softened. “I’m feeling fine about her.”

  “Good. What about the rest of your new friends?” Hoping to see a smile before she left the room, she said, “Is there any boy in particular you might be interested in?”

  “No!” she snapped. “And why would it have to be a boy?”

  Autumn blinked in surprise. “You had a boyfriend for over a year and a half in Tampa. I thought—”

  “Well, I don’t know, okay?” she broke in. “It could be that I’m more into girls. Does that disappoint you, too?”

  Suddenly, all the things that Taylor had said and done recently made more sense—the fact that she was hanging out with Sierra almost exclusively, the fact that she’d mentioned Sierra was “different” to sort of test the waters, the fact that Caden was so upset. Maybe she’d told her brother she had romantic feelings for Sierra, or he’d guessed, and he hadn’t taken the news well.

  I want to tell you. Believe me, I’m dying to tell you. But I can’t be that big an asshole, even if she deserves it.

  If Autumn’s guess was correct, that would certainly explain Caden’s statement before he charged out of the gate toward the beach. Maybe the fight had erupted because Taylor was texting with Oliver, and it had gone from there to Taylor claiming she wasn’t interested in Caden’s friend because she was interested in Sierra. “Are you confused about your sexuality?” she asked.

  Fresh tears welled up. “Yes! I’ve never met anyone like Sierra. I like her more than a friend. But she’s...she’s not a guy.”

  Autumn sank back onto the bed. “No, she’s not.”

  “So...that’s bad, right? That’s something to be sad about.”

  Autumn didn’t want to say anything that would make what her daughter was going through any worse. Taylor had to be free to be herself in order to be happy. That was the one thing Autumn felt she had to remember as she dealt with this. “It’s definitely the harder path.”

  “Why does it have to be harder?” Taylor asked. “It’s so unfair! Why do people have to care about something that’s none of their business?”

  “It goes back to what people have been taught for generations and generations, I suppose. And different has never been an easy thing to be. I see the world moving toward greater acceptance—at least in the bigger cities. I’m sure you do, too. But it’s going to be a while before the stigma of same-sex relationships disappears for good.” If it ever did. Racism remained regardless of greater education. Although advances had definitely been made when it came to racial discrimination, persecution was still a problem, especially in some areas, and acceptance of sexual preference lagged behind that.

  “You don’t want me to be gay,” she guessed.

  Autumn could tell Taylor was watching her closely. She did feel a strange sense of loss—for the sudden disappearance of the traditional life Autumn had expected for her daughter, which included a husband and kids, she supposed. “I want you to be happy. Period.”

  “Which means...”

  “You can’t try to be something you’re not. And I’ll accept you no matter who you love.”

  “Do you really mean that?” she asked, her tone relieved and beseeching at the same time.

  Autumn pulled her in for a hug. “One hundred percent.”

  * * *

  Taylor sat in bed long after her mother left the house. She felt a lot better. She hadn’t told Autumn the whole truth, but she’d told her some of it, and sharing even part of her secret somehow made it easier to breathe.

  She was still sad about Caden, though. And she was a little surprised that, as angry as he’d been, he hadn’t ratted her out. That made her feel even worse about what she’d done to him.

  Grabbing her phone, she texted Sierra.

  Caden found out Oliver is the father of my baby.

  You told him? Sierra texted back.

  No, Oliver messaged him. What an idiot!

  Except you never answered him. What did you expect him to do?

  I know, but I can’t talk to him—not without telling him about the baby.

  Maybe if you ask him not to tell anyone until you get back, he’d keep his mouth shut.

  I’m afraid to take that risk.

  Taylor’s phone rang. “How’d Caden take the news?” Sierra asked without saying hello.

  “He’s pissed—just like I knew he would be.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Taylor slumped against the headboard. “I am, too. I feel so bad. I wish I’d never done what I did—but especially with Oliver.”

  “Have you told Caden that?”

  “I’ve tried.”

  “How hard?”

  That was a good question. Not very hard. She’d been too panicked over the pregnancy. “Maybe I need to try again.”

  “I would. From what I’ve seen, he’s a pretty cool brother. And you’re going to need him and your mother more than ever before once the baby comes.”

  That was an ominous statement; it was also true. Even if Sierra moved to Tampa, she wouldn’t be able to get there until after she graduated, and the baby would be born by then. “I’ll talk to him.”

  “When?”

  “Later. He’s at the beach right now. I don’t want to make a big scene in front of his friends.”

  “Better to avoid that,” Sierra agreed.

  Taylor frowned at her swollen eyes in the mirror over the dresser. “What are you doing today?”

  “Job applications.”

  “This late in the summer? All the jobs are taken.”

  “I’ve got to find something. My dad and I had another blowout last night, and he told me that it was time for me to start helping with the bills.”

  “But you’ve got school in...what? Only six weeks?” She knew Sierra had had a job at the Tastee Burger until the owner’s daughter got a divorce and moved home in March. They’d talked about it. She also knew Sierra had put in a few applications since then, but with so many college kids returning for the summer, she didn’t get any callbacks.

  “I was planning to try again once everyone left to go back to school, but my father says I’m costing him a fortune, and he doesn’t want to wait that long.”

  Douchebag, Taylor thought. But she didn’t say that. “So where will you apply?”

  “I’ll try the ice cream store again and hit up the tourist shops.”

  “And if that doesn’t work?”

  “I’ll go online, see if there’s a nanny position available. I’ll find something.”

  “Are you upset?” she asked, feeling a little guilty for how good she had it. Her father had gone missing, but they’d never had to stress about how to cover their basic needs.

  “Not really. This had to happen eventually, right? Besides, it’ll be good to have my own money. I don’t like asking him when I need something.”

  “Isn’t that sort of his job? To take care of you until you graduate? I mean, he is your father.”

  “Yeah, well, I once had a mother, too. Just having the title doesn’t mean you do the job.”

  Taylor winced at that response. Not only had she had the benefit of what money could buy, she’d also had good parents. The best. “My grandma is putting a coffee shop in her bookstore. If it takes off, she might be able to hire some part-time help. I’ll talk to her about you. The only problem is...the contractor won’t even start until fall. My grandma didn’t want the place torn apart during tourist season. That’s when she makes most of her money.”

  “That would be cool,” Sierra said. “I’d love working at the bookstore. Thanks for putting in a good word for me.”

  “Sure thing. What are you doing later?”

  “Cleaning and getting groceries. There’s nothing to eat in this house.”

  Sierra already did so much for her father. Taylor wondered how he was going to get by without her, once she moved to Tampa. Maybe then he’d realize how much easier life was when she was around. “Wait for me. I’ll go with you.”