ONE
Ethan Hayes turned into the driveway of his second home, aching to lose himself in his first love.
The warehouse complex housing Ethan’s brewing setup ran behind a row of shops on the edge of Wildwood’s touristy Main Street. While the other units were closed and dark now at almost 9:00 p.m., Ethan’s space glowed in the headlights of his buddy’s idling Ford F-250, where Caleb waited to pick up an order of beer for his market on Main Street.
Ethan pulled his work truck next to Caleb’s, calling, “Sorry I’m late” through the open passenger window before sliding out of the driver’s seat.
The perfect California Indian summer evening wrapped him in the soft chirp of crickets and the rich scent of dry live oak, and he tried to let his long workday of complaints and complications fall away as he wandered toward the door of his unit, searching for the key on his ring.
“Expected you to be a couple kegs into new brews by now,” Caleb said, his voice distracted.
“I wish.” Ethan found the key and worked the lock. “Had an inspection that couldn’t wait.”
“Let me guess. Another friend of the mayor?”
Ethan didn’t have the energy to bitch about his fucked-up family tonight, so he hoisted the metal rolling door toward the ceiling and let the clattering thunder cut off that conversation. Then he flipped on the lights, flooding the workbenches and shelving units with halogen.
When he glanced over his shoulder, he found Caleb still leaning against the bed of his truck, hands in the front pockets of his jeans. His T-shirt flew the colors of his local alma mater, Sonoma State University, and he was still staring into the distance instead of loading the beer stacked by the door.
“Your order’s right there.” Ethan cut a glance toward whatever held Caleb’s attention, but he couldn’t see past the other units. “What are you looking at?”
“The action over at the Hart place.”
A tingle of surprise burned straight up Ethan’s breastbone. “What?”
He took three steps into the parking lot and turned toward the adjacent property, a rambling five acres that anchored the south end of Main Street and housed the dive bar that had changed the trajectory of Ethan’s life. A property he hadn’t seen movement on in three years, and one he hadn’t expected to see movement on again until he ordered it.
But a vehicle was parked at the end of the long drive, its headlights illuminating the building once considered Wildwood’s roughest, rowdiest bar. Closed since the death of the owner, Joe Hart, the building had deteriorated from ravaged to ruin and been forgotten by everyone but those whose lives had been broken by the events there—the Hayeses, the Harts, the McClellans, and the Ryans. In large part because of a decision Ethan had made, one that had seemed so trivial at the time.
If he’d only known that decision would change the entire path of his life.
Hands on hips, he peered across the darkness to make out what was happening half a football field away. “What the hell?”
Caleb chuckled and glanced at Ethan for the first time, his grin easy and relaxed in a way Ethan wished his could be. “Good to know the elite Wildwood Planning Department is on top of everything that happens around here.”
“Shut—”
Ethan’s “up” evaporated on his lips as someone wandered into the scattered light. A woman. A sleek, well-dressed woman holding a cell phone to her ear.
The sight was so odd, so wrong, so completely unexpected that Ethan threw his arms out to the sides. “What the—”
“Hell,” Caleb finished for him, finally pushing off the truck and turning toward the warehouse. “I was going to ask you, but I can see you’ve been about as efficient at your day job as you’ve been at brewing lately.”
“Dude.” Ethan cut a knock-it-off look at his friend.
“Didn’t you post the demolition notice yesterday?”
“Yeah.”
“I saw Phoebe in the store earlier,” Caleb said, referencing Joe’s sister, who’d stepped in to help with Joe’s daughters a few years after their mother had run out on the family. “But she didn’t say anything about the property. And whoever that is can’t be one of the sisters. Shannon would have heard if any of the Hart girls were in town.”
Finley’s Market was situated in the center of downtown Wildwood. Caleb’s parents had gifted the store to Shannon and Caleb as a wedding present, then retired to travel. The all-in-one grocery, gas station, car wash, and deli had been the hub of Wildwood forever.
But mention of the Hart daughters immediately directed Ethan’s thoughts to the oldest sister of the family and memories of her deep-auburn hair worn in sleek, thick curls down the middle of her back.
Delaney Hart.
The timeworn tug of unfulfilled desire felt bittersweet tonight, and the sting of longing reminded him that not all his memories of the bar were negative.