“I’m surprised you escaped the bar without blood being drawn,” I said, shoving Beckett’s shoulder with my hand.
“It was a near miss,” he teased. “She nearly got a hook into me this time.”
Shock flickered through me. “Really? I thought you were never playing in that sandbox again.”
He made a disgusted noise. “Give me some credit, Maise. No, Del almost hooked me with news about her dad.”
“What’s up with the chief?”
“She says he’s finally going to retire.”
My feet ground to a halt. When I looked up at Beckett, the gossamer glow of the moonlight washed over his face, transforming him into a beautiful black-and-white drawing. A vampire hero. Dark and gorgeous. Mesmerizing. Hard to resist.
“That’s awesome news. Congrats, Chief.”
His smile turned triumphant.
“Stoney is going to put up a good fight for the job. He’s got me beat, hands down, in the experience category.”
“Stoney isn’t a leader, Fireball. You and I both know it, and so does Chief Nattingly.” His grin widened, exposing his dimple, and it turned him from vampire to superhero just like the one I’d nicknamed him for.
“The city council has to approve the candidate, and I’m not sure how many friends I have on it.”
I tucked my arm in his, and we continued walking.
“Well, Fallon has friends, and we both know she’d rather see you as the fire chief than Stoney.”
Like me, Fallon was only twenty-six years old, but her resort was the town’s largest employer and most prominent donor. It meant she held considerable sway with the city leaders.
We finally reached the end of the court where our family homes stood almost shoulder to shoulder. The cement pathway from the street to my dad’s steps was cracked and buckled from the roots of an overgrown oak tree. Clumps of dirt peeked out of grass that needed reseeding, the porch roof sagged slightly over the tapered columns, and one of the decorative shutters was hanging askew.
No sign remained of the perfectly maintained house Mom had taken so much pride in.
Next door, Beckett’s house gleamed. He’d painted it a pretty forest green that complemented the dark-brown shutters and stone foundation. The front door was a beautiful cerulean color that highlighted the four stained-glass squares built into it. His porch was in perfect condition, just like his yard. He’d replaced the grass with eco-friendly plants, giving the yard an English-cottage vibe.
The difference between the two houses was heartbreaking.
“She’d hate this,” I whispered before I could take it back.
I felt Beckett scouring my face for tears, but they were all locked up. I rarely cried over Mom anymore. I’d done enough crying the first summer she’d been gone that I’d foolishly thought it had drained me of tears forever. But life had proven me wrong, and Beckett had had a first-row seat to those times too.
“I’m almost wrapped up with the remodel on my place. I can start helping out here,” Beckett offered.
“I’m not sure he has the money to do anything right now, but I’ll talk to him.”
I didn’t have the guts to say he might not even own the house for long.
“Whose car is that?” Beckett asked, drawing my attention to the shiny red sports car parked across the street by the Helmer’s mailbox. It was so new it didn’t even have an official license plate yet.
I shrugged. “Probably holiday renters.”
When Mrs. Helmer had passed not long after her husband, their kids had come home and cleared out anything of value before listing the house on an online vacation rental app. Then, they’d promptly returned to the lives they’d built elsewhere. Dad griped about the traffic on the street sometimes, but for the most part, the guests came and went without him even noticing.
I stepped backward toward the house, careful not to trip over the roots peeking through the sidewalk.
“Thanks for walking me home, Chief Fireball Romero.”
“Don’t jinx it,” he huffed before adding, “Thanks for coming out tonight. I know you didn’t want to, but it was good to see your face, my Maisey-girl. It’s been too long.”