dean
She was better. I was making sure she had something to eat, and then I was leaving. Staying here would lead to me doing things I’d regret. Twice, when her fever had gotten high and she’d begun tossing and turning in her sleep, she’d asked about Cam. That was the only thing that kept me grounded.
However, where the fuck Cam was, I didn’t know. Why hadn’t he called? Why hadn’t he shown up? Not my fucking business.
I would admit, I cared too much where Brielle was concerned. It was more than lust, and I knew that. This was a first for me. Wanting something that wasn’t good for me. Typically, the only wanting I did was for a hot fuck. With her, I enjoyed her company—when she wasn’t being a smart-ass. Oh, who was I kidding? I liked that about her. She had no problem with putting me in my place.
Staying here and seeing how she had made this small apartment so comfortable and homey got to me. That was fucking stupid, and I knew it, but it did give me warm feelings I needed to get over. Her colorful paintings, pictures of her family—or at least, her younger brother—vanilla-scented candles, and mismatched china patterns should not make me feel anything.
The more distance I put between us, the better. She had Cam—wherever the fuck he was—and I had my life. One very different from this apartment. From her world.
I finished placing the last blueberry pancake on the plate and put one pat of butter on top before walking over to the table and setting it down. She could eat this and carry on with her life again. I would make my exit and flush this woman from my system.
I heard the hair dryer and decided to step out now rather than talking to her again. I wasn’t sure I trusted myself to leave if I had to look at her one more time. I’d want to ask her things. Find out about her younger brother. Where the rest of her family was. Where she had grown up. If yellow was her favorite color—it was in almost everything she surrounded herself with.
I placed a fork and napkin beside her plate, walked over to the sofa, and grabbed my duffel bag. Then, I headed for the door. Best that I go and stop this now. It wasn’t leading anywhere. The less I knew about Brielle McGinnis, the better.
After a shower and breakfast, I took a COVID test to make sure I was in the clear before I headed for Rosemary Beach. I was supposed to have dinner with Rush and his family last night, but I’d called and explained my absence. Today, I would go spend time with my grandkids at their pool. Getting out of the apartment building had seemed like a top priority. Not that Brielle would come up to the penthouse and ask me why I’d disappeared, but what if she did? I wasn’t sure I could make the right decisions. Not yet anyway.
Rosemary Beach was the same. It never seemed to change. I drove down Highway 30A until I came to the driveway leading up to Rush and Blaire’s home.
When I had bought this place for Rush when he was a kid so he’d have a decent place to live, I’d not imagined him growing up and raising a family in it. He turned out so much better than I could have hoped for. There was a time when I saw his life going in a very different direction. I worried about him. I thought my lifestyle and the way he’d been raised in it had ruined him for a normal life.
Blaire had walked into his world and changed all of that. My boy fell in love. Sure, they had faced some hard times, obstacles that seemed too big to overcome, but in the end, love had won.
Rush had the life I would never have. A wife who loved him, living in a house with his kids, and raising them together. Here in Rosemary Beach, they had a community of friends that were like family.
I parked my Harley just behind Blaire’s Tesla and pulled off my helmet just as the front door opened, and Nate, my grandson, came barreling out of it, headed straight for me. The kid was his dad’s replica. He even had his eyes.
“DEAN!” Nate called out as he ran my way. “Give me a ride!”
I chuckled as he came to a sliding halt in front of me.
“The girls call me G-man, you know. I should get something more than Dean if your other grandfather gets called Grandpop.”
“But you’re Dean,” he said with a wiggle of his eyebrows, “the Finlay.”
I laughed and grabbed him, pulling him in for a hug. “Well, Dean the Finlay is terrified of your mama, and there is no way I am giving you a ride on my bike. You know she doesn’t want you on it.”
Nate sighed loudly. “Dammit.”
“Language, boy. You want your mama skinning us both?”
Nate shot an amused grin up at me. “Mama don’t skin no one.”
“You upset her, and your daddy will though.”
Nate shrugged. “Not really. He acts tough, but he’s not really scary.”
I squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t let him know that.”
Nate nodded. “Yeah, I won’t.”
The door opened again, and three-year-old Phoenix stepped out in a pink polka dot swimsuit that had sparkles on it, her red hair wild with curls.
She waved at me. “G-man!” she called out to me.
“There’s one of my favorite princesses!” I said as I made my way to the front door.