serenity
26 YEARS OLD
Push the limits and live for the minutes. Aunt Fran said that to me on more than one occasion during my summer visit eight years ago. Despite how things went down after I left, I held on to that mantra. I lived by it. Or, well, I tried to at least. Being on this boat, heading back to the island, is definitely pushing my limits now. I swallow the heavy lump in my throat, wondering what to expect when I get to Sunshine Coast, British Columbia. I haven’t been to her cottage in the little town of Egmont in over eight years. It was the first and last time I visited her cabin.
I was eighteen, and it was both the best and the worst summer of my life. In those two months, I went from becoming her best friend to despising her as much as my mother does—or did.
That was the summer the King brothers came into my life. I still have yet to piece back together my heart that once had been bursting with love but ended up shattered into a million pieces. I fell in love and lost my virginity, only to turn around and experience the worst betrayal. It was a time when I felt so alive and free; in fact, it was the last and only time I remember being genuinely happy. It’s funny how all the reasons for my joy were the exact causes of my misery. That the place I thought of as paradise is now the place I am having so much anxiety over returning to.
The feel of the wind whipping my hair and the sound of the waves crashing into the shore aren’t enough to soothe my frazzled nerves. Regret and dread consume me, unsure of what I’ll find or who I’ll find when I get off this boat.
But I have to do this. Regardless of how much it’s going to hurt, tear at my already fragile heart, and reopen those wounds, I’ll never find peace if I don’t return to Egmont. For years, the memories have haunted me, especially at night when I stare at the painting of what was once my favorite location and the girl I used to be. I could simply remove the painting, sell it, give it away, bury it, burn it—anything else but have it remain—but I can’t. Every time I touch the canvas’s raised and uneven paint strokes, I can close my eyes and smell the woods and his sweat, feel his calloused fingers, and…
The sound of voices brings me out of my depressing and anxiety-riddled thoughts. I shouldn’t torture myself with painful memories or silly crushes, and as soon as I get back home, I will get rid of that painting. It all ends. It all has to end.
I still fall asleep thinking what if…
Lord knows I’ve been driving myself crazy with what-ifs since I first received news I had to return.
What if I run into…
What if I can’t survive being back at the cabin?
What if I fall apart?
The island that holds so many memories from such a short time span comes into view as the ferry boat’s horn blares. I notice that there are more tourists and a few more businesses along the port, and it saddens me a little that the secret of this hidden gem must’ve gotten out. Though, it hasn’t become overly commercialized and still holds onto its quaint charm.
As I step onto the deck, I scan the crowd. There’s not a familiar face anywhere. Not that I was expecting to find one. The King family might not even be living here anymore. Adam King. I wonder what became of him. And if he knows about Fran. Does he know I’m here? I’m being silly again. How would he know I’m here?
I drag my rolling suitcase behind me as I walk along the paved parking lot in search of a lift to my aunt’s cabin.
“Sugar! Sugar!” a deep voice calls out.
My heart stops. That voice. It has to be my imagination, so I keep walking without a backward glance.
“Sug—Serenity Tremblay!”
It couldn’t be. His voice is too deep. It has been eight years, though. Duh. Of course his voice would probably be lower, more manly.
My feet stop and my lips pull in between my teeth as I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on controlling my breathing. This is what I came here to do: not just to face the past but heal from it, though I didn’t expect it to be the second I arrived. Right off the boat and out of the gate, so to speak. Sheesh. I wasn’t expecting to rip the Band-Aid off this soon, but then again, I’m here, so it might as well begin now. The sooner I get all of this over with, the sooner I can move forward. Arrive. Conquer. Get the hell out of here. My plan is simple and solid.
Heavy footfalls quickly come to a stop behind me. “Serenity? Fran’s Sugar?” The gruff voice demands my attention, daring me to turn around and face him.
My treacherous heart has the nerve to think, at one time, I was also somebody else’s Sugar.
I force my eyes open and spin around. “Hello?” I gasp and can’t stop the smile forming on my face. “Ashley? Ashley King?”
He’s gotten taller and more muscular it seems since he was the twenty-six-year-old who had pulled me out of the lake and breathed life back into my body. He still has that stern look in place. The King boys made a huge impact on my life that summer. Ashley saved me from drowning, and his brother… Well, he was Adam. I was always so nervous around Ashley, and it wasn’t just because of our eight-year age difference. He seemed too serious and standoffish. I’ve respected him since he first started supporting himself and his two younger siblings, Adam and Zuri, when he was fourteen. I only met his parents once. Actually, I only saw them once the entire time I was here. Adam told me their parents were always drunk or would disappear a few days at a time. I’m the same age now as he was when we met that summer, and I cannot imagine doing everything he did, taking on all the responsibility of raising his siblings due to his absent parents. It was clear that Ashley kept the family afloat, and never once did I hear him complain.
“Yeah.” His brown eyes study me. “You’re all grown up.” His dark eyebrows pull together. “Shit. I’m sorry. Of course you’ve grown up. It’s been, what, eight years?”
I blush under his gaze. “It has. I’m definitely not eighteen anymore.”
“No. You’re most certainly not.” His brown eyes become heated, but he blinks the feral look away and reaches for the handle of my suitcase. “Let me give you a ride to the cabin.”
I scan the area, weighing my options, until what should’ve been my first thought finally registers. I narrow my eyes and tilt my head. “How’d you know I was coming?”
He takes my luggage and nods for me to follow him. “Everyone knew Fran left the cabin to you. I wasn’t sure if you’d ever come back here, but I have a buddy who works on the ferry. He told me you were on board.”