Crosby thankfully ignored my outburst and began walking me through the basics. I’d been on a board a handful of times, but it had been years, and the refresher was more than needed. Before long, I was pushing out into the little cove just north of The Gables.

Crosby’s smooth strokes cut through the water as he kept an eye on my progress. “You’re doing great.”

“You sound surprised.”

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

“A few times, but it’s been a decade at least.” I had to admit, Crosby was onto something with his obsession with the activity. It was so quiet out here. Only the wind and the birds and the water. I could get used to it.

“You ready to tell me what put a burr up your butt?”

“Excuse me?” I should’ve known Crosby wouldn’t let anything go that easily. He was too much of a nosy bastard.

“Stop pretending to be so offended at every little thing and tell me what’s really going on.”

My mouth pressed into a thin line. He always saw too much. Understood my coping mechanisms, sometimes even before I did. The mask of propriety and perfection were nothing but a shield, but it was one I desperately needed. I couldn’t give Crosby my scars, my secrets. It would give him all the power. I straightened and dipped my paddle into the water. “Have you heard from the Abbots at all?”

Crosby’s movements stilled, his paddleboard drifting as his eyes stayed focused on me. “No, have you?”

I swallowed, my throat sticking on the movement, Grant’s rage flashing in my memory. “Grant stopped by Cornerstone.”

“When?” There was a bite to the single word, ferocity. It was easy to forget that under Crosby’s easygoing surface was a beast. I’d seen it when he took down Bell’s kidnapper.

I cleared my throat, focusing on the water ahead. “Tuesday. When I finished up, he was waiting for me by my car.”

“Wait, Grant? Not Clark?”

I gave my head a little shake. “We have…” God, what was the right word to encompass what lay between Grant and me? “History.”

Crosby studied my face carefully. “What kind of history?”

A hellish one. One that barely let me out alive. “We dated when we were growing up.”

“They never said anything.”

I chuckled, but it was tinged with bitterness. “I’m sure they didn’t. The Abbots weren’t exactly happy that I was dating their son.”

Crosby dug his paddle into the smooth water, bringing his board closer to mine. “What about Harriet?”

Just the sound of her name was a painful squeeze of the heart. “She thought I was too good for him.”

“She was right.”