Page 47 of Shades of You

Then I stepped out the back door and entered my SUV to head toward Calypso Key.

Home. Yet not home.

The Big House loomed as I pulled into the drive, its stone and timber façade contrasting against the backdrop of clear blue sky. After I cut the engine, my hands rested on the steering wheel while I took a deep breath and tried to steady the churn of emotions in my gut.

I just sat there, staring at the grand entrance. The thought of opening and walking through that front door tightened something inside me. Years away from the family legacy, of making choices that set me apart, clung to me like a second skin.

As I stepped out, my heart hammered with each step toward the house. The home I’d grown up in, dammit. The idea of knocking felt absurd—like I was a stranger about to peddle vacuum cleaners. And yet, barging in unannounced seemed… presumptuous coming from the black sheep of the family. I paused twenty feet away, my feet stopping on their own. Maybe the kitchen door would be better. Less formal, more?—

The front door swung open before I could decide, revealing my grandmother, Nona, whose long white hair caught the sunlight like a halo. Her eyes, the same shade of blue as the Gulf on a calm day, twinkled with unspoken understanding. Her gentle smile softened the apprehension coiled inside me, and as I met her warm eyes, the tension eased. A flash of warmth drifted through me at her familiar western wear, a soft plaid shirt paired with well-worn jeans.

“Good morning, Hunter.” Her voice carried the soft lilt of years gone by. She slowly ambled down the cement pathway to me, her firm step belying her eighty-five years. “I saw you standing there from inside. You look like you’re fighting a battle with yourself.”

“Maybe.”

“Let me tell you something,” Nona said, turning around at my side to stare at the imposing manse before us. “When I first married your grandfather and became a Markham, I was petrified. I came from a simple family, and here was this… empire.”

She laughed softly, a sound that held both fondness and a touch of melancholy. “I remember standing right where you are, not knowing if I should knock or just walk in. It was silly, but I felt like everything hung on that decision.”

I listened, leaning into her story and waiting for the wisdom I knew she’d impart. Her struggles weren’t mine, but maybe they shared the same root.

“Then I realized,” she continued, her voice steady and sure, “that this wasn’t just the Markham estate. It wasmy home. My family. And I belonged there as much as anyone else.” She paused, offering me a knowing glance that reached into the depths of me. “Just as it will always beyourhome. And you don’t ever need to feel you aren’t good enough to walk in the front door. You’re a Markham through and through, Hunter.”

Her words were simple, yet they cut through the tangled mess whirling inside me. I embraced this tiny yet fierce woman, whose head hardly reached my chest. My throat was tight, and I cleared it roughly. “Thank you.”

Eventually, I relaxed my hold so she could let go, and we faced the grand manor—our family legacy. We walked toward that mammoth wooden door. I reached for the doorknob, turned it with resolve, and pushed the door open.

“Always,” she said quietly, her eyes crinkling at the corners with a smile.

I ushered her in first, the matriarch deserving of every courtesy. And stepping across the threshold, something shifted inside me—a piece clicking into place. The Big House embraced us with its history, and the walls almost whispered with tales of Markhams past.

“I love you, Nona,” I said, wrapping her in another hug.

“And I love you, Grandson.” She patted my back gently before pulling away and giving me a soft push. “Go on, now. Evan’s in the kitchen.” After a nod, she ascended the staircase.

Turning toward the kitchen, the scent of coffee and the subtle tang of cinnamon greeted me as my feet treaded forward inevitably. Evan was there, his broad shoulders relaxed as he filled a reusable water bottle at the sink. He was dressed in a T-shirt and shorts that showed off strong, muscular legs. I breathed a silent sigh at his obvious good health. But it was the cleats he wore, grass-stained and worn, that caught my attention. Memories of us as kids, playing impromptu games on the beach, sent a wave of nostalgia crashing over me.

“Hey.” I wiped a sweaty palm on the back of my thigh surreptitiously.

“Morning,” Evan replied, glancing up. His eyes flicked to my face, then away as if he too was navigating uncertain waters. The two of us hadn’t been in a room without others present since that awful fight fourteen years ago. A lifetime ago.

I leaned against the doorframe, watching him cap the bottle and slide it into his bag. The air between us was thick with words unsaid, but for now, the silence was enough. It had to be.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Hunter

Following Evan,I detoured back to my Range Rover to grab my equipment duffel. When we reached the garden, nostalgia hit me hard. The lawn next to the Big House was a sight to behold, a huge expanse of trimmed grass carpeting the ground like a lush green blanket. A tall hibiscus hedge in full bloom bordered the area, its vibrant red and yellow flowers creating a natural barrier that encased the garden in a riot of color and fragrance. The sweet scent wafted through the air, mingling with a salty breeze from the nearby ocean. This was where I had stood unnoticed while Gabe and April said their vows.

But my memories went further back.

This was our old stomping ground. Mine and Evan’s. Where we’d spent countless hours under the sun, the crack of the bat an echo of simpler times. And like those long-ago days, the batting cage stood at the far end of the garden, a large structure made of sturdy metal and thick netting. Thesun shined through the netting, creating intricate patterns of light and shadow on the vibrant green grass.

I couldn’t help but marvel at how unchanged it all seemed. From the middle of the lawn, a pitching machine pointed at the batting cage. The piece of machinery had seen countless practices and stood as a silent testament to our shared history.

“It looks exactly the same,” I remarked, my voice hushed.

Evan shrugged nonchalantly as his gaze followed mine. “Didn’t see the point in messing with a good setup.”

---