Page 19 of Shades of You

“Like a rock, surprisingly.” I couldn’t help but add a light-hearted tone to mask my inner disarray.

“Good to hear,” Hunter replied, his voice low and even.

I glanced at the two strangers, who gave me polite nods as I leaned against the wall. Seeing Hunter among allies, a cascade of relief washed over me. There was safety in numbers, or so I wanted to believe. Despite the security of Hunter’s apartment, it was his physical presence that truly made me feel safe. As if the danger that lurked beyond these walls couldn’t possibly touch us whilehe was here. It was a ridiculous notion, but in that moment, I clung to it.

“Guys, this is Brenna Coleridge,” Hunter introduced with a casual wave in my direction. Then, turning to me, “Brenna, Myles Decker and Garrett Howard.”

Myles, with sandy hair cut high and tight, offered me a warm smile. His tan spoke of hours in the sun, and his stretched-out legs crossed at the ankles suggested an easygoing nature. But my impression changed when he rose from his chair, the movement effortless in a way that suggested coiled strength ready to be loosed. He extended a hand, which I shook, finding his grip firm yet unassuming.

“Nice to meet you, Brenna. Heard a lot about Bookshop in Paradise,” Myles said, his voice tinged with a coastal drawl.

“Only good things, I hope,” I replied with a smile, immediately at ease with him.

“Of course, though Hunter’s the real bookworm.”

Garrett was a different story. His posture was rigid, like a soldier standing at attention, and his gaze held a focus that seemed to weigh and measure me in a glance. Dark stubble lined his jaw, and his piercing blue eyes flickered to Hunter before resting back on me. As if he was looking for something unsaid, an undercurrent beneath the surface. I expected a crushing grip when we shook but found my hand unsmashed.

“Myles is just coming off shift at Calypso Key, so he’s heading home to sleep,” Hunter explained. “I asked him to stop by so I could fill him in on the developments. Garrett will be keeping an eye out for you while I look for Knox.”

“What?” The word slipped out before I could censor it, my hesitancy clear.

Garrett smiled, and his face transformed. The stern,intimidating Marine vanished, and I relaxed a little. “Trust me, you won’t even notice I’m there.”

“Uh, thank you,” I managed, mustering a polite smile. “I appreciate it, though I’m still not sure all this is necessary.”

Hunter eyed me, not giving an inch. “If it becomes necessary, you’ll be very glad to have Garrett there.”

I couldn’t argue with that. I turned to give Garrett a smile but found him contemplating Hunter—a long, evaluating look like he was trying to put pieces of a puzzle together. As the men continued their discussion, I drifted toward the window. Outside, small-town beach life stirred awake, the sky a canvas of pastel hues, all of it a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within me.

When I climbed back upstairs, Hunter’s bookshelf caught my eye, a solid mahogany case that stretched seven feet high, filled with an array of titles. My fingers trailed over the spines, pausing on a worn, well-used collection of Hemingway titles. I couldn’t help but smile—at least some things never changed. In these small details, I glimpsed the boy I once knew, before he became this enigma shrouded in danger and allure.

He had all of Hemingway’s works, fromThe Old Man and the SeatoThe Sun Also Rises, my favorite. Each book seemed to echo a part of Hunter’s soul, the adventure, the stoicism, the unspoken wounds. In my mind’s eye, I could see him sprawled on the couch and lost in those pages. He was the storm itself, and yet here I was, standing in the eye of it and finding peace.

After selecting a James Patterson thriller, I spent several hours lost in thrills, yet finding comfort in the soft bundle of fur on my lap. After a quick lunch, I was filled with restless energy. And with my store closed, I sought the familiar confines of home. My car was still parked behindthe bookstore, and after letting Garrett know I was leaving, I trotted down to it and got in. Reaching Main Street, I turned west and made my way toward Siesta Sunset Resort. The Florida sun was generous today, giving the town a golden hue as I crossed the short distance to the family business. The resort was like a snapshot from a bygone era—cozy and homey, with two blocks of rooms painted in soft seafoam green with crisp white trim. Each room had its own little porch or deck, complete with a sitting area. I parked behind a rectangular structure made from cinderblocks painted a gentle blue.

The familiar sights filled me with a mix of nostalgia and sadness. It was a place that held so many memories of my childhood, of running around with my brothers and helping my parents with odd jobs. But now, it stood as a reminder of the struggles my family faced and the remnants of my parents’ shattered marriage.

As I approached the reception area, I could see Harper inside, her brow furrowed as she stared at the computer screen. Her bouncy brown curls looked like she’d run a hand through them. She’d taken over manager duties from Dad when he left and had shouldered the burden without complaint.

But the lobby wasn’t my destination today, and with a guilty pang, I bypassed the building. I let my feet guide me through the resort. Siesta Sunset exuded a casual coastal vibe, with its two-story room blocks arranged around the central amenities and pool. At the heart of the resort stood the main restaurant, Driftwood Grill, and the resort pool with palm trees whispering in the breeze. Near the beach, I passed Tidal Hops, the brewpub that was my brother Braden’s pride and joy. The pub’s white picket fence and turquoise signboard welcomed guests to dine in the shade or inside in the cool air.

I strolled farther, drawn by the rhythmic lapping of waves against the shore. A crescent of beach unfolded before me. Powdery salt-and-pepper sand gave way to gentle azure waters. A weathered yet solid wooden pier stood on this little haven, anchored by a simple structure made of sun-bleached wood at the far end. Adorned with nets and buoys that spoke of the deep blue beyond, a red-and-white dive flag flapped from the top of the roof.

The house I’d grown up in, and that Ben was staying at while our mother was away, was barely visible in the distance, tucked away among sea grape bushes and the whispering fronds of palm trees. As I walked down the pier, the planks creaked under my weight with a comforting sound. I pushed open the glass door to find my brother Eli behind the counter, arranging dive gear with practiced ease.

“Bren! Long time no see.” Grinning, he swept a lock of slightly too long light-brown hair out of his eyes. We Coleridges had been graced with a variety of eye colors, but I loved Eli’s bright blue shade.

“Hey, you,” I replied, leaning against the counter. “Busy today?”

“Two-tank trip is out right now, and I’ve got a student in another hour. You know, the boat’s going out tomorrow, and I just happen to have a spot with your name on it. Or if you’re up for some shore diving, just say the word.”

I laughed. Four years older than me, Eli and I had gotten certified together. Where I found a hobby I enjoyed, he’d fallen utterly in love and discovered his calling. He never missed a chance to get me in the water.

“Thanks, but I’m back to work tomorrow. Maybe another time. I was just talking about diving last night with a friend.”

A friend. One I was afraid to even discuss with myprotective big brother, so I kept quiet. The subject would only stir up trouble, and God knows I had enough of that. It weighed on me, though. Hunter hadn’t said anything about payment for his services—he just wanted to be sure I was safe. And yet I couldn’t discuss his generosity with my own brother.

Because he was a Markham. And I was a Coleridge.

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