Page 5 of A Crush in the Storm
“About?”
“Stuff.”
West rolls his eyes. “Fine. Be vague. But you won’t have access to my wisdom much longer, so you might as well take advantage of it while you can.”
“Dickhead,” I mutter. “Besides, you’ll be based in Brisbane, so I can pop in for sage advice whenever I’m in town.”
“Speaking of which, where are you headed after here?”
“Broome, most likely. I can work there for a few months before it’s my turn to run this place.”
The smile playing about West’s mouth fades. “With Vera staying on to fix up the resort, do you think we should consider selling once it’s done?”
Normally, Kai would say ‘hell yeah’, but seeing Sadie so untethered earlier made him wonder how she’d take the news that the only home she’s ever known may be whipped away.
On the upside, it would give her a chance to spread her proverbial wings. He could travel with her for a while, show her around. Then again, if she’d refused his invitation a decade earlier, why would she change her mind now?
“I think that’s a discussion the four of us need to have,” I say, surprised by the sadness clawing at me.
Every time I return to Ceto Island, I can’t wait to escape, so why the sudden sentimentality at the thought of selling?
“I’ll probably fly Em back for Valentine’s Day, so with Linc here, and you starting your annual stint, that leaves Walker to coerce into a family meeting.”
“I’ll make sure the bozo is here.”
Our youngest brother loves snorkelling, and the island is hosting a world association of divers then. He won’t miss it.
“Okay then. Let’s table our discussion until then.” West holds up his beer. “To the Spade brothers moving into the future.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
But as I take a slug of beer, I can’t help but feel nervous about the uncertainty of it all.
6
SADIE
Every muscle in my body aches as I clear away the last of the champagne glasses used to toast the bride and groom. After less than four hours of sleep, I awoke at dawn and threw myself into cleaning up.
Once again, not my job—I organise a cleaning crew from the mainland for events—but I need to keep busy. I’ve swept floors, mopped, made several trips between the function room and the kitchen carrying empty dishes, and stacked glasses inthe dishwasher. Doing the repetitive, menial tasks may have distracted me for a while, but now that I stop, and see my father taking down fairy-lights strung between palm trees, I know I’ve been staving off the inevitable.
I need to tell him the truth.
He sees me approach and waves. “You’re up early. Didn’t over-imbibe like most of our guests, I see.”
“You know I’m a one-pot screamer.” I smile. “I got that from you.”
He chuckles, but a shadow passes over his face, probably at the thought of me inheriting anything from my mother. “You know one beer at the end of a day is my limit.” He pats his gut. “I need to maintain this physique.”
I laugh as intended. “Do you have a minute?”
“For my favourite girl, of course.”
He climbs down the ladder, and when he reaches the ground, he says, “Happy New Year, sweetheart.”
I hug him extra hard. “Happy New Year, Dad.”
When I release him, he says, “What’s wrong?”
