“Are you getting any nibbles, Doc?” Wes asked. He noticed the old man had lowered his hook into the water with no bait on the end. Looked like he could add senile to the Doc Nelson description.
“Not yet.” Doc tipped his fishing hat, setting all the silvery lures pinned to it fluttering about. His cottony white hair danced around the brim.
“Wouldn’t it be easier with some bait?” Wes began reeling in his line with another spot fish wiggling on the end. At least they’d have a feast shortly, if they kept biting like this. August’s father-in-law had said if they showed up at his place with a mess of fish, he’d have a pot of rice and some of his famous slaw prepared, with a cast-iron skillet of grease and his secret dredging batter ready for the fish. Wes’s stomach growled just thinking about it.
“Don’t much feel like it tonight, kid. Figured I’d just grow me a sit, so we might have ourselves a chat.”
Wes glanced at the other guys. They looked busy focusing on their fishing poles, but he knew better. His stomach clenched and he suddenly didn’t care so much about the upcoming fish feast. “I don’t have anything to say.”
“Good. That’ll mean you can listen twice as much.” Doc leaned back in his metal foldout chair and eyed Wes. “That fool Ty Prescott has a hole in his bag of marbles and has no business actin’ like he’s taking a shine to Sophia Grace again. Sure gets my goat that he’s sittin’ in your pew at church while you off hidin’ from the world.”
“I’m not hiding,” Wes snapped, placing the fishing pole against the rail. “And I won’t make her life complicated by participating in some cliché love triangle. That’s tacky and not my style. Plus, I think Ty’s in need of that pew more than I am.”
“Thought you didn’t have anything to say?” Doc raised a bushy white eyebrow. When Wes’s lips remained pinched closed, he continued, “Sure, that boy needs to get a good dose of Jesus. But we’re here to discuss another problem tonight. Sophia is right back to being sad all the time. And that’s your fault.”
Wes whipped his head around to retort, but August clasped his shoulder. “It’s true. She’s miserable. And I can tell you on good authority that she’s only keeping peace with Ty for Collin’s sake.”
“And that’s why I’m staying out of the picture. No matter how much I hate the guy, he will always be that little boy’s daddy.”
“Father perhaps, but he ain’t cut out to be a daddy,” Lincoln interjected, still working on catching his first fish. “He has his head too far up his own backside to notice his child.”
“So you guys are here to gang up on me for what? To make me feel even worse for Collin?” Wes started packing up his stuff in the small tackle box he’d brought along, figuring the mile walk home would do him good.
“No.” Doc wrapped his hand around Wes’s wrist. “We’re here to come up with a plan that will work in your favor, as well as for Sophia and her boy. It’s high time that cocky scoundrel figures out the sun don’t come up just to hear him crow.”
August snorted. “Yeah, whatever all that means.” He pulled in a fish and dropped it in the rapidly filling cooler. “Me and Linc have been doing our part to make Ty sweat as much as possible when he comes around. He’s not cut out for taking much, so he normally tucks tail without much effort on our part.”
“What do you mean by making him sweat?” Wes absently cast out his fishing line and settled back in his chair. He suddenly felt more like following wherever the conversation was leading.
“Let’s just say he tends to lose his appetite around us. For someone who likes to use his fists, he ain’t got much tolerance when the pressure is turned on him.”
“You’re roughing him up? Why ain’t y’all included me?” Seth whined while rebaiting his hook with another worm.
“Nah. Nothing that extreme.” August shrugged.
“Not lately, anyhow,” Lincoln added.
“There’s just one thing missing, and that’s you, Wes.” August pointed at him. “We think from here on out, every time we have to be around the punk, you need to be there too. Time to make your presence known.”
“Yes.” Doc waggled a finger at him. “And you’re going to start by gettin’ your behind back to church.”
The guys finished filling the cooler and stepped over to the stainless steel sinks at the end of the pier to clean the fish. By the time they’d finished, arrived at Jasper’s, and devoured their weight in fish fried to golden-brown perfection, the guys had worked out a formidable plan. “Operation Ty Extraction” was what Lincoln called it. That was all fine and dandy with Wes, but life had other plans the guys knew nothing about.
17
There was a popular quote most locals knew around Sunset Cove and probably any other coastal town, saying beach life was different from life away from the shore. Time near the coast didn’t move by the hour; it moved by the currents, planned by the tides, and followed the sun.
But Ty Prescott thought life moved when he said so. He was persistent, Sophia had to give him that. Tonight she’d finally caved and agreed to go out to eat with him. Just the two of them, he persuaded, saying they needed some time to talk. He drove her to the next town over to a great little sushi hot spot, and she decided to give it her best effort as well.
Admittedly, the food was excellent and the conversation not half-bad. She noticed Ty trying to be attentive, catching himself when he began one of his me-me-me monologues. He was right cute about it, cutting himself off and redirecting the focus to her, and Sophia found herself smiling at him more during that meal than she had in years. It gave her hope that they could form a respectful friendship that would make the years ahead of coparenting more tolerable.
“I’m thinking about looking for a piece of land inland,” Ty shared before taking a sip of water. “I’d like you to help me pick out floor plans.”
Sophia chewed the edamame thoughtfully, wondering how best to answer. “Lincoln Cole is an architectural engineer. I bet he’d be the one to talk to about that.” She inwardly cringed at the same time Ty did so visibly, making her wonder if mentioning Lincoln had been her defensive reflex to keep Ty in his place. If it worked, then so be it.
“Why would you even bring that guy up? You know what, never mind . . .” Ty shook his head and filled his mouth with another piece of sushi as if to help keep his comments to himself. “This yellowtail is so fresh.” He nestled a piece between his chopsticks and tried feeding it to her.
The gesture felt too intimate, so Sophia plucked the bite from between the chopsticks and popped it into her mouth. “Hmm . . . so good,” she garbled out, making light of it.
Ty somehow pretended the two small hiccups hadn’t just happened and moved on so easily that he even had Sophia questioning whether they had actually happened. And she could almost forget that the same hand that reached out to wipe the soy sauce from the corner of her mouth was the very same one that had split her lip. Almost. But she flinched, delivering another hiccup to the evening.
This time, Ty didn’t ignore it. He jumped back, knowing where her reaction had come from. “Are you ever going to forgive me?” he whispered, looking down at his plate.